yuriririnnie

[yuriririnnie]

Can’t believe I almost missed this. A fanfic of my bias from user @/taeghi 😭

Atp I’m a simple girl. I see a story written by them, I reblog.

10/10 so sinful, yet so right. 😭

keep it between us

the rule was simple: don't fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend. but jay doesn't make it that easy. so it leaves you thinking... are some rules meant to be broken?

PAIRING : bffs ex-bf!jay x y/n

GENRE : SMUT = MDNI, angst, some fluff?? cheating, some cum play, choking, slight slapping, degradation, exhibitionism

WC : 29.3k!!!!

this wasn't proof read!! im sorry!! pls enjoy

ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

it’s a fact you find yourself repeating in your head more often than you’d like to admit. almost like you’re reminding yourself that you love this girl. 

it’s easy to realize that you love ruby when it’s just the two of you. whether you’re hanging out in her apartment watching a movie or at a cafe getting coffee together, it’s simple, relaxing. 

but at times like now, you feel like you have to forcibly remind yourself that ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

your best friend has brought you to a party tonight, even though it’s a wednesday and you both have an 8am class tomorrow. somehow, situations like this are common in your friendship. you tell her no, give a rational, logical reason as to why you say no. and then ruby persuades you with her hunger for spontaneity everytime to do the opposite. 

from the outside, you and ruby look like complete opposites. even right now, at this party, others that don’t know or ruby would guess that you don’t even know each other, let alone be best friends. 

you’re sitting on a couch, lazily holding a red cup with some punch in it that tastes like shit, most likely because it was created by a group of frat boys. you’re sitting with a few people that you know from your classes, adding occasional statements to their conversation. 

meanwhile, ruby is absolutely wasted already, dancing all over heeseung at the pool table. she’s got her arms thrown around his neck, dancing and twirling off his body. you can hear her squeals of laughter from across the room, even over the loud music playing. 

it’s hard to not notice ruby. besides the fact that she’s constantly getting herself into situations where she’s the centre of attention (last weekend she fell off a table at a party from dancing too hard). ruby is beautiful— far away from “stereotypical” beauty. she literally excels with an aura of beauty. everywhere she goes, she has eyes on her. it’s something she’s come to expect and love. 

the thing about you and ruby is that in the areas of yourself that need to be more adventure seeking and social, ruby provides you. in the places where ruby needs more rationality and grounding is what you give her. both of you have traits that the other needs, which perfectly aligns and blends you together. which is what makes ruby your best friend. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” a man’s voice questions angrily. you turn to where the voice came from, right where ruby was dancing with heeseung. the person who you expected to be standing there, was. 

jay park is ruby’s boyfriend. they’ve been dating on and off again for the past two years. you’ve tried to remember the reason why the broke up for the first time, only one month into their relationship at that point, but it’s no use. they’ve broken up so many times over the past two years that you can’t connect what reason to the number of break up. 

jay and ruby are so similar yet so different at the same time. it’s exhausting. 

everyone at your college knows about jay and ruby’s complicated relationship. which is why no one at this party is surprised right now that jay and ruby are fighting, again. 

they both can be chaotic and impulsive, which so easily leads to their fights being dramatic and escalating quickly. they’re unpredictable together. one second they’re yelling until their faces are red, and the next they’re crawling back into bed with each other. their attraction to each other is strong enough that their commitment issues are almost constantly showing. 

“i’m dancing jay, is that a problem?” ruby answers him, her face twisted in annoyance as she holds one of her hands on heeseung’s shoulder as she stares down her boyfriend. 

“yeah, you’re grinding on heeseung, right in front of me.” 

ruby only chuckles, “i’m just having fun, jay. chill out.” 

“chill out?” you can see jay’s jaw tense from across the room, “how can i do that when my girlfriend looks desperate as fuck grinding on whoever is closest to her.” 

ruby’s faux smile drops from her pretty face, her eyes narrowing at jay in front of her. heeseung’s stuck in the middle of them. 

“why can’t i have fun without you getting all possessive? i’m not yours, jay.” 

jay scoffs, “yeah, clearly you fucking aren’t. don’t come near me again.” jay shakes his head at her before he turns, bee-lining it through the crowd of people. 

“fuck you, asshole!” ruby shouts after him, her chest heaving in anger as she watches her ex boyfriend storm out of the party. 

you can’t help but sigh as you know that it’s time for you to get ruby to go home with you. you’ll have to see her switch from crying to yelling in anger about jay until tomorrow morning, when they will most likely forgive each other again. ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

“have fun,” maria, a girl from your calculus class, nudges you with a smile. knowing to a certain extent what you’re going to have to deal with for the next eight hours. 

“thanks,” you roll your eyes playfully. 

“i just, i don’t get why they can’t just break up for good. like they seem miserable together.” jake, a boy from the rugby team at your college, grumbles. 

you shrug, “if you find out, don’t forget to tell me.” 

your classmates tell you they’ll see you tomorrow as you head over to ruby, who’s sobbing into heeseung’s shirt now. by the look on his face you can tell he has no idea what to do, he feels awkward about this whole thing. 

“ruby?” you place your hands on her shoulders gently, “wanna get out of here?” 

ruby turns to you, her lips pouting and her makeup running down her face, “please, y/n.” 

she lets you start to guide her away from poor heeseung and outside. you smile awkwardly at heeseung, trying to reassure him that everything’s fine. he looks as confused as ever, but he manages to smile back at you before you get lost in the sea of people. 

ruby puts her head on your shoulder during the uber ride home. her crying has turned into small sniffles. “he’s such an asshole, y/n.” she tells you, a sentence that you’ve heard one million times before. 

“i know,” 

ruby lifts her head up to look at you, her lips still in a pout, “but he’ll come back, right? he always does.” 

you force a reassuring smile at her, knowing that no matter what you say, she’ll only listen to what she thinks. “right, he always does.” 

she manages to smile weakly at your words, returning her head to your shoulder. 

ruby is your best friend in the entire world. 

you wake up the next morning, way past 8am, to your phone ringing. 

almost blinding, you reach for it, keeping your head on your pillow as you answer and mumble a scratching “hello” into the line. 

you instantly hear crying, gasping for air, like sobbing, “he— he blocked me!” 

“who?” you rub your eyes, trying to understand what you were hearing.

“jay! he fucking blocked me!” 

memories from the night before come back to you as you remember dropping off a crying ruby at her apartment before you went home and passed out. you don’t know what to say to her. they’ve broken up and made up so many times before that you don’t feel any urgency to try to comfort her since they’ll probably be back together before you go to sleep tonight. but he’s never blocked her before. 

“he’s being so ridiculous!” ruby continues, her voice shaking, “i just need my stuff from his place but he’s wont fucking answer me. can you go get it for me, y/n? please.” 

you roll over onto your back to stare at the ceiling. you want to say no. you want to say that she should deal with something by herself for once. but you know that you’re already going to do it for her. just like every other time she’s called you crying about jay. 

“yeah, sure.” 

“thank you, y/n. i don’t know what i’d do without you.” 

“no problem, rubes. i’ll text you when i have your stuff.” 

you hang up, but you don’t get out of bed right away. you love ruby, but sometimes it takes so much effort to do so. you don’t know why or how you’re always stuck in this cycle between her and jay. you’re always the mediator, the shoulder to cry on. just so that the cycle restarts an hour later, like it never ended in the first place. 

you tell yourself that you’re just doing ruby a favour, but you know the favour will never be reciprocated and that it’s not just one favour. it’s like you’ve been doing her favours constantly for years. you want to tell her how you feel, but you don’t do confrontation. and you’re sure ruby will take it as an insult either way. 

so, like usual, you tell yourself that it’s fine and to not think about it. 

you go to jay’s apartment.

you’ve never been inside jay’s apartment building before, only outside of it when you pick up ruby or something. you hesitate before knocking on his door. you can’t tell if the reason you’re nervous is because you’ve never been here before or because you’re going to be alone with jay in his apartment. 

but, you’re here for ruby. and that’s it. 

the apartment door swings open before you can knock again. jay stands there, shirtless with a joint hanging from his lips. he leans against the doorframe with a slow and amuse smile on his face once he sees you. “what’s up, y/n?” his voice is casual, like all the other times he’s spoken to you. his gaze doesn’t leave you as it flickers over your entire body. 

you cross your arms as a reflex, “uh, ruby sent me to get her stuff.” 

his lips twitch like he wants to laugh, “of course she did.” 

it makes you wonder if he’s also realized that you do everything for ruby. if so, how many other people realize this? 

jay steps aside, nodding you in with the joint hanging loosely in his mouth. you step inside as he walks past you. his apartment smells like a mix of his cologne, the one that you helped ruby pick out for his birthday, and weed. his tv has a PAUSED screen on it from his video game. 

you watch as jay starts to move around his apartment, picking up things that belong to ruby that are scattered around. he doesn’t look at you, and you try not to look directly at him for too long. his back muscles flex as he bends over to pick up ruby’s phone charger. you pretend that it doesn’t make your stomach twist. 

“you know, you don’t have to do everything she says, right, y/n?” jay speaks, blowing out a stream of smoke. 

you feel your body tense at his words. “i know. she’s just tired today so.” 

he gives you a look like he knows you’re lying. because even though you and him aren’t extremely close, you both know ruby down to the very detail. 

jay shakes his head, “ruby’s such a fucking child. i can’t deal with her anymore. i’m the always the bad guy, but she’s the one who can’t keep her shit together.” jay’s honesty scares you. your first instinct is to defend ruby, she is your best friend after all. but a second part of you understands what jay is saying. 

“you’re not a bad guy, jay.” you surprise yourself with how quickly the words come out. “you made mistakes, but no one is perfect.” 

you can tell by jay’s expression that he’s also surprised at your response. but he looks away, picking up the last of ruby’s things from the kitchen table. he walks over to you, handing ruby’s handful of things over to you. he’s still shirtless, towering over you. he holds his joint in his index and middle finger. 

“you’re too nice for your own good, y/n.” 

you smile softly at him the best you can, avoiding eye contact with him now that he’s so close to you. you can feel tension growing inside of you, but you don’t know if it’s also growing within him. you are his ex girlfriend’s best friend after all. 

“you’re so different from ruby, ya know?” jay’s voice is deeper, his head tilted to the side with an amused smile on his face. 

“yeah, i know.”  you agree, trying to keep the conversation light. you don’t know where he’s going with this. you’ve never really had a conversation alone with jay before. 

“i like that.” 

your eyes widen at his statement. not expecting it at all. he only laughs at your reaction, stepping closer to you, taking a drag from his joint. his eyes scan you up and down as he exhales, blowing it out at the side of his mouth. 

“uh, thanks,” you manage to get out, your voice sounding like a squeak. it only makes his smile grow further. 

jay leans in even closer to you, making you back up against the front door behind you. you can smell the weed strongly now. he reaches over to the shelf beside you and puts out the rest of his joint in the ashtray. you stand frozen in your place. you’re trying to wrap your head around why your heart is beating so fast now. reminding yourself that this is jay standing in front of you. 

but the way that jay is looking at you right now. like he’s noticing all the small details about your face for the first time in his life, distracts you from anything else. 

“tell me to stop, y/n.” jay says, his voice lower and softer. his chest is almost brushing against yours he’s so close to you. his eyes are darkening and mischievous. his words hang in the air, challenging you to do something. 

it’s a challenge that you fail. 

jay’s lips crash against yours. it’s urgent and rough, like he’s been dying to do this forever. you hesitate for a second, trying to understand how your best friend’s ex is kissing you so harsh and desperate. like he’s starving for you. 

it’s only when jay’s hands cup your jaw, deepening the kiss that you relax and wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders. his body is hard and firm under your touch. it’s new but familiar all at once. it’s something that you’ve thought about more than once. the thought that you’re finally giving in to something that you’ve imagined over and over again throughout the years sends a rush of adrenaline down your core. 

jay’s lips guide yours, taking control, showing complete dominance over you. the wave of submission courses through you as you let his movements lead the way, like you’re chasing after him. 

jay starts to step back, keeping his lips attached to yours as he guides both of you to the couch behind him where you’ve sat with ruby and him before. he sits down, his hands grasping your hips as he pulls you down on top of him so you’re straddling him. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this,” you pull apart for a second, unable to keep your lips off of his for more than a second. 

“i know,” he mumbles back, keeping his eyes closed as he chases for your lips. 

you can’t help but feel like this is so wrong. you should have never gone to your best friends’ boyfriend's apartment. you knew it’d be dangerous, especially when jay is so vulnerable right now and you know you have no self control when it comes to him. 

but at the same time is feels so good to be touching him like this. you have thought about it one million times before, but always with the guilt that he was dating your best friend. now its different, they’re broke up and it’s oblivious that jay wants you just as much as you want him. you don’t have to hide your lust for him behind the mask of being his girlfriend's best friend. it’s like he finally sees you as more than that. you can tell by the way his hands are gripping your waist, guiding your hips to move overtop of his hard cock growing underneath his sweatpants. 

jay’s fingers hook underneath the bottom hem of your shirt, pausing against your skin, making the area burn against the contact. 

“can i?” jay asks, his eyes looking up into yours above him. his eyes are serious, yet pleading for you to say yes.

you blush at the eye contact and manage to nod in approval. trying to ignore how your hands start to shake on his shoulders from nervousness and adrenaline of excitement crashing together. 

jay continues to pull your shirt off your head and drops it on the living room floor. it leaves your chest completely bare to his eyes. he grabs your waist tightly, making it unable for you to move to cover yourself from the shyness that is creeping up your body. you’re unable to hide. his eyes scan your skin quickly like he’s in a hurry to remember every square inch of your body. you bit your lip in unsureness, trying to decipher what he’s thinking as he looks at you. 

he finally speaks, “you’re so fucking pretty, y/n.” 

your lip stuck between your teeth helps cover your growing smile at his compliment. jay has never looked at you or spoken to you like this before. like you’re y/n and not ruby’s best friend. he sees you as your own person. 

everytime you’ve hooked up with someone before, it’s been someone you’ve met through ruby. they’ve always rushed you, barely spoken to you and it always felt like they hooked up with you out of limited choice of other people to hook up with. 

and you can never forget the time you were hooking up with jaehyuk in the year above you and he moaned ruby whilst he came inside of you. the worst part is, he didn’t even realize he had done it. he just pulled out, put his pants back on and high fived you before he left you in the random bedroom at the party. 

since then, you’ve been more aware and weary of what you hook up with, especially the ones you’ve been hooked up with through ruby. you feel like you’re just always seen as since ruby is unavailable, you’re the second best option since you’re her best friend. you always feel like you’re ruby’s shadow, like you’re not your own person with your own feelings and opinions. 

but now, on top of jay, with his eyes on your skin and voice in your ear, it feels different. you feel seen for once. like he wants you and only you. and not because you’re ruby’s best friend, not because you were just there and available. 

jay leans in and kisses your collarbone, his tongue darting across it. his lips suckle against it, leaving a dark red mark that (you hope) will bruise later. he takes his time, his tongue trailing slowly across your chest. he’s teasing you as he gets closer to the sensitive skin along your breasts. he licks right beside your nipple, loving the way you mewl in dissatisfaction from his teasing. you can feel his lips form a smile against your skin. 

when his finally wraps his lips around your pink bud and sucks harshly on it you gasp softly. your hands tighten around his head to keep him close as his own hands tease your spine, gently rubbing up and down the indent. he nibbles on your nipple gently with his teeth. your hips are still circling above his crotch, you can feel him hardening even more at your audible reactions to his movements. 

jay pulls away, his arms wrapping around your waist as he stands up. your wrap your legs around his waist in shock, your eyes wide as you stare down at him. he keeps a cocky grin on his face as he starts to walk to his bedroom with you in the air. 

“just trust me, i got you.” he tells you earnestly, chuckling under his breath as your reaction. 

jay lays you down onto his bed, your head landing in his pillows. you try to ignore the questioning thought of how many times ruby’s head has been in your exact position before. 

jay takes his time with you. slowly kissing down your bare chest and stomach. his hands roaming every part of your body he can reach. when he gets to your jeans he unbuttons them and your panties down your legs. 

you can tell that jay is confident and experienced, a bit cocky. even though you’ve never been together like this before, he still acts like he knows exactly what makes you feel good. like you’ve told him yourself. he doesn’t hesitate with any of his actions, thus his head is in between your legs with no further thought. 

jay’s tongue delves into your pussy, lapping up your juices, wanting to taste you so badly. you can’t help but moan out at the first touch of his tongue. it had been so long since a man has properly tasted your core. you can tell that jay knows exactly what he is doing and it amazes you. you had thought that no one could ever make you feel good with their tongue, that it was something that only seemingly happened in porn. but with jay, it was different. 

your hands grip the sheets underneath you, needing to steady yourself as you prepared for jay’s tongue to start switching between darting in and out of your hole and circling your clit. he keeps his hands on your hips, pinning them down to try to stop you from bucking up into his mouth. you keep your head up on your shoulders, looking down at him as he works his tongue all over your pussy. you moan as he keeps his eyes on you, wanting to catch every single reaction you make to his movements. 

everything he was doing felt new to you. it leaves you uncertain of where this was all going. you’ve never felt this good from someone else before. you’ve never been touched with care. part of it makes you nervous as you don’t know where this is going. like maybe everything will just fall apart in a second. but you don’t want jay to stop. 

jay slips two of his fingers inside of you, immediately curling them to find your gspot. you gasp out, eyes widening as he manages to increase the amount of pleasure you were feeling. “oh god,” you mumble out weakly, your lip getting stuck between your teeth. you feel jay smiles against your wet pussy, your juices and his salvia mixing on your pussy and his lower face. his chin was already a mess from how deep and passionate he was eating you out. 

jay’s fingers create a pace, making sure to curl them perfectly to his your gspot everytime he pushed them back into your tightening walls. both of you knew it wouldn’t take much longer for you to cum. and although you were embarrassed at the realization, jay was even more turned on by it. his hips started grinding more into his mattress below him, trying to relieve himself a bit underneath his usually loose sweatpants, but now were suffocatingly tight. 

“just cum, y/n, please,” jay begs you from his spot between your legs, “i wanna feel you cum on my face so bad,” his eyebrows are pulled together, desperate as he pleads for you to cum, “wanna taste you even more, all of your juices.” 

“f-fuck,” you stutter out, your jaw becoming slack as you allow the pleasure to fully consume you now. jay can tell you’re finally coming undone when your walls spasm around his fingers, your hips buck up to still against his face, letting him suck on your clit harshly through your orgasm. your head is thrown back into his pillow. you feel almost helpless as you lay there, your body frozen as your orgasm hits you hard as hell. you can’t even push jay’s head away when his tongue starts to overstimulate you. 

when he feels like he’s drank every last drop that your pussy would give him, he presses a kiss onto your shaking thigh and pushes himself up so he’s hovering over top of you. he stares down at you, right into your eyes as you try to catch your breath and relax from your orgasm. 

jay doesn’t say anything as he leans down and makes your lips meet his. your eyes close as you kiss him back. you hum at the taste of yourself on his lips. he pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring it as your hands wrap around his shoulders to keep his lips against yours for longer. his kiss feels addicting as you follow his lead, liking how easily he can take control and guide you with your lack of experience. 

jay roughly pushes his lips off of yours, his hand taking a grasp of your jaw, forcing you to stop. you look up at him through your lashes, chest still heaving from the lack of oxygen being provided from your orgasm and his kiss. jay’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, swiping away some of the saliva you had mixed together. he smirks down at you, obviously catching the submissive glimpse in your eye as you look back at him, “you wanna keep going?” 

breathlessly you answer, “yes,” you nod with his hand still taking your chin captive, “please.” 

jay’s smirk only seems to widen mischievously, “good girl.” 

he takes his hand off of your chin and instead starts to pull off the grey sweatpants he wore oh, so loosely on his dainty hips. his pants are off and thrown on the messy floor of his bedroom in a second, but you don’t look where exactly they are thrown to. you can only stare at jay’s hard cock finally being revealed to your eyes. you mean, ruby has shown you pictures years ago when they had first gotten together, but that didn’t count. jay was now physically in front of you with his cock hard just for you, wanting to be inside of you. the thought had your thighs rubbing together. jay catches the  movement, chuckling deeply as he places a warm hand onto your bare knee and prying your legs back open. 

jay easily, almost perfectly, slides himself in between your legs, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. jay starts to rub his cock up and down your slick, wet folds. he collects all of your juices and his saliva onto his cock., lubricating it to push it deep inside of you. when the red tip of his cock rubs against your clit it has you mewling out from the need and sensitivity. you feel like walls clench around nothing, just the thought of jay finally being inside of you. 

“ready?” jay confirms, his eyes staring right into yours again. you can barely look at him, almost shy again now that his cock was a milimeter away from pushing inside of you, stretching your walls. 

“yes,” your voice is weak and feeble when you answer. you feel embarrassed almost, but you know he doesn’t know why. he probably thinks you’re shy because you’re bare in front of him. he doesn’t know that what is happening right now is a situation where you have thought of multiple times before and now that it’s real, it’s making you blush. you know that he’s probably never thought of you in this position with him before, but you don’t seem to mind as jay finally pushes his cock inside of you. 

jay goes slow, his tip that is dripping with precum slides in first and he stops once it’s fully in. you try to calm your breathing at the stretch of only his tip entering. jay keeps his eyes on you the entire time, his one hand resting on your knee whilst the other stays gripping his cock, pushing it further, in so slowly, so gently. like he’s afraid he’s going to hurt you. it’s the most caring anyone has ever been with you and he’s barely even started. 

within a minute, jay has slowly pushed himself into you. your hips are pressed against each other. your legs are spread so your clit is exposed to his eyes, rubbing against his lower abdomen. jay watches your face the entire time, not wanting to cause you any discomfort, but once he’s fully inside he can’t help but groan out and drops his head into your shoulder. 

“fuck, you feel unreal, y/n,” jay grumbles against your skin, his voice directly into your ear as he lays on top of you. he’s careful to not move his hips in any sudden way. he lets both of you get used to the stretch his cock has on your tight walls. you know you’ll be repeating the way his voice is so raspy and already out of breath as he says your name over and over again after this is done. 

jay presses his lips into the crook of your neck and shoulder before he pushes himself back up onto his elbows, trapping your head in between, forcing you to look up at him. 

he keeps his eyes on you as he slowly pulls himself out of you, keeping just his tip in. you gasp out, your back levitating off of the mattress behind you as his cock seems to glide against every spot inside of you that makes you feel good. when he slides back in, his cock hits your g spot, making you whimper out. 

your chests are pushed together as jay starts to create a pace. he steadily keeps the pace, your legs still wrapping around his waist. you find it hard to look back at him as he’s looking at you. you feel so exposed underneath his gaze. like he can read your mind perfectly. like he’ll realize that maybe this means more to than it does to him. 

because you know that neither of you should be doing this, but you shouldn’t especially. though you and jay are supposed to be loyal to ruby, you have more reasons than jay to not be doing this. because this means nothing to him, and both of you know that. but you know that there is a deep, suppressed feeling in your chest towards jay that you force yourself to not think about. that when you look at jay there’s a certain twinkle in your eye that you’re afraid he’ll see as he lays on top of you, his cock delved deep inside of you. 

jay huffs as he sits up on his knees, his hands moving from above your head to your hips. your legs stay glued to his hips, not wanting him to escape you, as if your legs will keep him there forever. his bangs fall into his face as he stares down at you. 

“tell me if it’s too much, ‘kay?” his voice is deeper now, the lust taking over. 

“okay.” 

jay slides his hips away from yours, his cock almost leaving your needy hole before he slams back inside of you. your whole body jerks up towards your bed. your moan mixes with jay’s in his bedroom. both of you were tired of his slow, gentle thrusts that had only turned into teasing the more your walls tightened around him, the more his cock swelled every time it hit your cervix. 

jay’s grip on your waist tightens as he starts to pick up his pace. he’s moving quicker now, slamming his hips against yours every single time. your hands fly above your head, gripping the headboard above your head to prevent you from hitting your head. he’s fucking into you so hard you think your core will be bruised in the morning. but you don’t mind. 

no you don’t mind at all. if it gives you a mark that will let you remember that this is really happening and not some figment of your imagination then you wouldn’t mind. if it’s jay giving you marks on your body that prove he has touched you in a way you could’ve only dreamt of before now then you wouldn’t mind. 

your hands cover your face as you try to hide your moans and expressions. it’s almost diabolical how good jay is making you feel and it hasn’t even been that long that he’s been inside of you. you’re sure jay can tell you’re inexperienced, he’s probably even heard stories about you from ruby. you think he’s been around more than once when you and ruby have even talked about the lack of hookups you’ve had. but right now you don’t want him to think about that. 

suddenly, jay’s warm hand wraps around both of your wrists, pushing them over your head. he pins them to the mattress below, not letting you move them. he traps you there, with your hands over your head and eyes widened as you can look nowhere but at him. 

“don’t do that,” he shakes his head at you, his thrusts still not stopping. “let me see you, please, look at me, baby.” 

the nickname sends an electric shock down your body, making your walls clench tighter around him. you’re sure he can tell by the way his jaw drops as he continues to thrust, his eyes staring right into yours. you want to hide, mask yourself from him, but he makes it so hard. 

“please,” he begs you, his voice desperate and deep.

“o-okay.” 

jay smiles at you, leaning down and kissing you. the kiss is soft and gentle compared to how hard and fast he’s thrusting into you at the same time. you can’t help but moan into his mouth, muffled by his tongue meeting yours and circling it. his taste is becoming familiar to you too, now. 

jay pulls away, sitting back up, leaving your hands as he grabs your waist with both hands again. your hands fly to his forearms, wanting to get as much as his touch as you can. jay doesn’t say anything, just keeps grunting as he thrusts into you. 

unlike any of the other guys you’ve been with, jay keeps his eyes on you. his pleas of looking at him keep your eyes on him. you wanted to please him as much as you can. so even though you’re worried he’ll be able to tell you see more in this situation than he does, you keep your eyes open and on him. 

jay’s fingers land on your clit, rubbing the bud in fast circles, adding to the pleasure that was growing in the pit of your stomach. your grip tenses around his forearms from the pleasure. your back arching off the bed uncontrollably. 

“fuck, you’re so sensitive,” jay mumbles as he watches your body fumble around below him. you whine in response out of embarrassment and lust and need all at once. jay laughs through his breathless thrusts, “it’s hot, don’t worry.” 

“you’re hot.” you can’t help but reply. and you blame it on the orgasm that’s quickly building inside of you, because you know that you’re usual self would not dare to speak that, even though you’ve thought it since the first day you had seen him. when ruby had brought him over to introduce you to him in the university cafeteria. his hair was shorter back then and he was less muscular than he is now. but you still found him drool worthy. you remember him sticking his hand out to you, shaking your hand as ruby introduced you to him as her “best friend for life”. but you couldn’t stop staring into his deep brown eyes that were turned into a smile. 

jay chuckles at your statement, it’s something he already knows— and he knows that if it wasn’t for his cock hitting your g spot over and over again, you would have never told him. 

“i wanna cum inside of you,” 

a wave of electric pleasure soars through you, your walls tightening more as your body squirms below him, “please, please.” 

jay’s jaw drops again and his eyes close for a second as he takes in your wet walls enclosing around him, literally suctioning him in, tempting him to cum inside of you right this instance. 

“fuck, okay,” jay nods at you, eyes meeting yours. their colour is darker now compared to when you first met him in freshman year. they’re filled with lust and need as he rubs your clit in faster circles with his three fingers. “i want you to cum with me, you think you can do that?” 

“yes, yes, god.” you nod against the mattress, your hair becoming a mess because of all your squirming. 

if you weren’t so close to cumming on jay park’s cock you would be embarrassed by how fucking needy and desperate you sound. 

jay starts to fuck his dick into your harder and harder. his bedroom is filled with your moans and his grunts and the almost disgusting, wet sound of your bodies meeting together. your entire inner thighs are leaking and drenched and spreading all over his lower abdomen. neither of you can care at this point, loving the mess it takes to get this close to cumming so hard. 

“beg for my cum,” jay grunts out, his voice the deepest you’ve ever heard it. you can tell he’s just as close as reaching his orgasm as you are. 

you swallow harshly, “i want your cum so bad, jay, please.” your eyebrows are pushed together, like a puppy-dog as you look up at him. “please cum in me— i wanna feel your warm cum inside of me so bad.” 

“oh, fuck,” jay’s stomach jerks harshly in and out, his thrusts not stopping as he fucks into you. you can feel his dick start to twitch inside of you. he still keeps his eyes on you, soaking up the lust yours are packed with. 

“fill me up, jay.” your voice is like a whisper, but it’s all it takes for jay to finally hit his high. 

“fuck, fuck, cum with me, baby, please, please,” jay’s voice is anguished as he begs, his cum starting to spurt out of his cock, painting your walls with white. 

jay’s cock twitching over and over again inside of you and his fingers sloppily rubbing your clit push you to the edge. but the pet name that spills from his lips fully pushes you over. your orgasm hitting just a second after jay begs for you to cum. your moans meet his as your eyes stay glued to each other’s. you can see the pleasure take over his entire face as he lets go inside of you. he does what you begged of him and fills you up with his warm cum. your walls pulsating around him as more of your juices slide around his cock make his orgasm last longer, which he isn’t disappointed with. 

when the final spurt of cum and wave of pleasure washes over jay he plops down on top of you, his cock still lodged inside of you. he lays his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder. you can feel his heavy breath against your neck as he comes down from his high. every few seconds you can feel his cock twitch inside of you still, from the left over pleasure that is coursing through not only his veins, but yours as well. 

neither of you try to move, besides jay’s thumb lazily circling your bare hip bone, soothing you from your orgasm. you’re left staring up at his ceiling, chest still panting, smelling jay’s cologne with a mix of sweat and weed. 

there’s a fluttering feeling in your chest that scares you, but you’re too physically tired to do anything about it. that was the hardest you’ve ever come in your life. it had just ended, yet you’re already trying to replay the entire event in your mind. you don’t want to forget a single detail and you aren’t sure— no, you know,this won’t and shouldn’t happen again. 

you remind yourself that this isn’t romantic. this is chaotic and messy and so utterly selfish it should make you sick. but you don’t move, you stay put underneath jay, under your best friend’s ex boyfriend. you don’t want to move. 

when you wake up in the morning you don’t know where you are for a second. you look around the room, trying to figure out why your bedroom looks so weird. it’s only when your foot hits something next to you that you remember where you are. 

your eyes scan beside you, the white sheet draped over jay’s still naked body as his eyes are closed with his head against the pillow right beside yours. his black bangs are hanging over his forehead, covering the tanned skin that sweat droplets fell from only a few hours before. 

when you laid down last night it was dark out, but now there is clearly sun peeking through jay’s white curtains. you reach over to the nightstand, grabbing your phone and audibly gasping when you see the time. 

fuck. 

you had class in an hour and still had to bring ruby her bag of shit she wanted from jay. the whole reason you even came to his apartment was for your best friend. and now you’re leaving with more reasons to stay away from jay than you had come here with. 

you throw the sheet off your body, your eyes widening when you see that you’re still naked as well. you stand up, trying to remember where your clothes had been. you pick up pieces of clothing from his bedroom floor all the way to the living room, where the PAUSED screen of his video game is still flickering on the tv. you pull back on your shirt and skirt, trying to find where jay had put your shoes. 

“leaving already?” 

you gasp as you turn around, facing his bedroom door where jay leans against the door frame. he has his grey sweatpants back on again, still loose around his hips. you gulp when you remember what is right below them, and how you’ve felt him inside of you, all over you. the memories from last night slamming you at full force now that he stands directly in front of you. your mind starts spiraling as jay just lights a joint in front of you. when he exhales, your eye contact breaks through the grey smoke. 

“um,” you shake your head, trying to get yourself to focus on anything but his toned muscles, “do you know where my shoes are?” 

with the joint in his mouth, jay’s eyes widen in recognition and nods towards the couch, “under the coffee table.” 

you follow and pull out your sneakers, fumbling to slip them on your feet with urgency. you suddenly wanted to leave just as quickly as you wanted to the night before… before jay had persuaded you to stay. saying nothing, you grab the bag of ruby’s stuff and head to the door. 

“y/n,” he calls your name when your hand grips the doorknob. you don’t let go of it as you look over your shoulder at him. he’s still in his place at the bedroom door. he shrugs when he speaks, “don’t overthink it.” 

you stare at each other, and to anyone else it would seem expressionless, meaningless, but you both know what you’re thinking as you look into each other’s eyes: don’t tell ruby.

you pull open his apartment door and slam it behind you, like that would stop anything from following you out.

ruby doesn’t question you much on why you hadn’t answered her texts the night before, which you were relieved for. she was more concerned with what jay had said to you when you showed up and asked for her stuff. if he had told you he missed her, if he was crying, if it smelt like a perfume in his apartment that wasn’t hers. you hoped she hadn’t picked up on your nervous tapping on your desk when she asked the last question. 

when ruby had finally run out of questions about jay she sat back in her seat, pouting as she crossed her arms over her chest. although she had told you she had spent the entire night crying about jay, she looked like she had slept a peaceful nine hours. her makeup and hair looked pristine as always. you, on the other hand, looked like you had been through a trainwreck. your hair felt like it was a knotted mess and you were still wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday. you would so kill for a coffee right now. 

“so, what were you up to last night?” lena looks over at you from her slouched position. the classroom had started to fill with other students, the professor yet to show up. 

you can’t help but basically give yourself whiplash as you turn your head to look at your best friend. your arms instinctively wrap around your body, like you can hide behind them. “um, not much. why?” 

ruby tilts her head at you to be honest, her nose wrinkling upwards, “because it looks like you haven’t showered in a week.” 

your mouth opens to speak, to say literally anything to explain to her about why you look like this. to say any words except for jay. but unfortunately, that’s the only word running circles in your head since an hour ago when you woke up naked beside him in his bed. 

ruby sighs, “please don’t tell me you spent all night on that anthropology paper! i told you to chill out about it, it’s not due for another month!” 

ease washes over you, too much for your liking. you don’t like feeling like this infront of ruby. she was supposed to be your best friend and now it’s like you have to watch everything you say to not let it slip what mistake you had made the night before. 

you sheepishly smile at her, “maybe.” 

ruby rolls her eyes, sitting up now with a playful smile on her lips. “you work too hard.” she shakes her head, “at least put the rat nest of a hair up.” she slips off a scrunchie she had on her wrist, handing it to you. you keep that guilty, sheepish smile on your face as you take it, reaching up to put your hair into a ponytail. 

“oh my god!”

your hands drop to your side at once, “what?” 

“what’s that on your neck?” ruby reaches over and bends your neck so she can see better in the dim classroom lighting, “is that a fucking hickey?” 

your hands fly up to cover the general area she was looking at, brushing her hands off of you. “what? no!” 

ruby’s jaw drops as she looks at you, her eyebrows pulled together in shock, “y/n, that’s a fucking hickey you liar!” 

you stare at your best friend, eyes circling her face as you try to read her expression, trying to think of anything it can be besides a hickey. your hands start to sweat, you can feel it against your neck where they try to hide the bruise that jay had apparently left the night before. you knew you should’ve looked in the mirror before coming straight to school. you thought it would’ve been suspicious to ruby if you were late to class for once. you now realize that this was much worse. 

you feel paralyzed as you stare at ruby, not knowing what to do or say in this situation. you had only hooked up with jay less than twelve hours ago and ruby had already figured it out. you were so fucked, oh my god your friendship is so completely ruin—

“you have a secret crush,” ruby’s face contorts into amusement, her shoulder coming to nudge you, “oh my god, he had you up all night didn’t he?” 

your arms wrap harder around yourself, trying to get yourself to calm down. another crisis adverted. 

“ruby,” you shake your head, turning away from her to sit forward and face the front. your professor had finally come to class, apologizing for being so late today. something about traffic but you couldn’t hear properly with your heartbeat pounding in your ears and ruby leaning over the desk to stare right at you. 

“who is it? come on, tell me! please!” 

“it’s no one ruby, it’s done. it won’t happen again.” you tell her, and it's the full truth you’ve told her all morning. 

ruby doesn’t like your answer, pouting and slouching back into her seat as she stares straight ahead at the professor setting up the powerpoint for the lecture today. the lights turn off in the classroom, the only light being the projector. 

“it’s fine i guess,” ruby mumbles, quieter now as the professor begins to introduce the topic for the day. “at least i don’t have to find people to hook up with you, now that you can do it on your own.” 

you glance over at ruby, her face is expressionless as she stares straight ahead. when she meets your gaze a smile spreads on her face which you mirror and then turn to focus on opening your notebook. 

ruby’s words sit with you for the rest of the day. like it had been some awful burden to her to find someone to hook up with you. like you had begged her to do. like it was so hard to find some desperate guy to hook up with poor y/n. even though you know it's wrong, you can’t help but picture ruby’s face if she found out what had really happened last night.

ruby and jay’s “disagreements” (what ruby calls their fights) usually only last a few days before their tongues are down each other’s throats again and you’re struggling to get a second of ruby’s attention. but this time, it’s been a week since jay had stormed out of the party and given ruby all her shit back. 

if you hadn’t hooked up with jay a week ago, you wouldn’t be so worried. you know ruby is slowly transcending into an emotional hurricane by the second. one minute she’s laughing saying she’s a “free woman” and then the next she’s crying on your lap asking you what she had done wrong. 

the worst part is that you think ruby is picking up on your anxiety. she keeps looking at you with her pleading eyes to tell her the “truth”— that jay will call her back and he’s just being petty right now, but you can tell she sees right through your reassurance. 

ruby was always such an emotional chaotic mess that she needed your stability. you needed to hold her still. and you didn’t mind doing it, but now that that stability is wary it’s only creating an even worse feeling for the both of you.  

you don’t like lying to your best friend, but you can’t help but feel like the moment you had with jay the week before was the first and only time someone had seen you for yourself. like you didn’t need to be with ruby in order for someone to even briefly glance at you. like you had a voice of your own. 

it made you question your entire decade long friendship with ruby more than you ever had in your life. it scared you but the feeling in your chest like you were hiding something grew bigger every day, and it wasn’t just because you were hiding the fact that you hooked up with jay. it was because you felt like you were hiding a part of yourself from everyone. a part of yourself that you felt like you consciously suppressed in order to let ruby shine. 

but the thing was, you realize now that you wanted to shine too. 

today was monday, which meant that ruby, the only one in your friendship that had a car, had cheerleading practice. it usually wasn’t a problem for you, even though you would have to constantly hear about how sore her legs were afterwards. but today, it was raining as soon as you stepped foot outside your university’s doors. the pavement was already a dark grey from how long and hard it had been raining. 

you have no other option but to put your headphones on and start walking home since your other, more dry option was at cheerleading practice for another hour and a half. 

it didn’t take long for your hair to become drenched and stick to your face. you could feel your socks becoming little puddles in your shoes with every step and you hadn’t even properly made it off of school property. 

car headlights turn the corner behind you and when you glance over you see a familiar black bmw pull up the curb beside you. it felt like a punch in the chest when the window rolled down to reveal the face that you had thought about every single day this past week. his eyebrows were furrowed in concern as he shouts at you, “what are you doing?” 

it takes a second for you to realize that you’re not dreaming, that jay is actually in front of you, “walking.” you sound dumb, like you have never spoken to someone before in your entire life. 

you see him roll his eyes through the harsh rain, “get in.” 

your body starts to walk before your mind is aware, almost drawn to him subconsciously, or you just really wanted to get out of the rain. 

you hop in the passenger seat of the car that you’ve been in before. jay has picked you and ruby up to go to a party or some other thing multiple times before. but you had always sat in the back, watching him and your best friend either hold hands over the centre console or fight until they're both red in the face as you pull up to the destination. it was like you were in ruby’s territory— again.

now that it was just you and jay in the car, it was definitely the most quiet it’s been in here with him. 

jay’s dry laugh distracts you from the silent comparing, “you’re fucking drenched.” he reaches over to blast the heat, turning all the vents towards you. “do you want to get pneumonia or?” 

“no, of course not. ruby’s just at cheer so, i didn’t really have a choice.” you explain yourself, but you catch the way jay’s whole body tenses at the mention of your best friends’ name. jay turns his eyes to face the road again and his amused smirk drops from his face. 

“so, you going home?” 

“yeah,” you nod and jay takes his foot off the break, pulling away from the curb in the pouring rain. the windshield wipers are working at a fast pace and the heat blasting is working overtime to keep you from catching a cold. you can still feel droplets of rain falling from the strands of your hair onto your hands. 

the sound of the rain relentlessly hitting the car and the heater blasting is enough to make it less awkward than it should be in the car with him. you feel almost pathetic. you had thought about him all week— all the things you wished you could’ve said to him the last time you had seen him. but now, that you’re actually with him in his car— alone, you’re silent. all you can think about really is how loud and fast your heartbeat is going. you hope he doesn’t hear it. 

you hope that he just assumes that you’re sick, like the rain had actually gotten to you and has given you a cardiac emergency and that’s why your chest feels like it’s about to explode. that the feeling is definitely from that and not the fact that he’s so close to you right now.  

“why haven’t you texted ruby, yet?” you speak before you can stop yourself. 

jay scoffs, “i have nothing to say to her,” he turns his head to look at you, his eyes serious and steady, “and i don’t want to talk about her. especially not when i’m with you.” 

your head snaps to look out the passenger side window, like the rain droplets covering the entire window have somehow become more interesting to look at than jay. you hope it hides the fact that your eyes widened almost cartoon-like at his words. what does he mean by that? though, you do agree with him. you don’t want to talk about your best friend when you’re with him. it feels wrong but so good at the same time. you want to stay here just a bit longer to figure out what is the right thing here— the good thing. 

in your peripheral vision you can see jay glance over you once, and then twice before he speaks, “you know,” he starts in his usual confident tone, the one that you wish you had, “you don’t have to do all that, good girl, shit with me.” he says “good girl” like it tastes bad in his mouth to say. like he’s repulsed. 

you look at him, keeping your face expressionless as some defense mechanism. 

“you don’t have to pretend, just be you.” 

“what?” 

jay narrows his eyes, “you know what i’m talking about, y/n.” 

it’s your turn to go stiff. is it really that obvious how you feel? then why is jay the only person to ever be able to really tell what you’re feeling? without even saying anything he knows what you’re thinking. he sees right through you. it scares you to be honest. how long has he been able to do this? 

“you make it sound like it’s so easy,” you place your palms flat against your soaking wet jeans, trying to distract yourself— letting the sweat that piled up in them soak into the rain stained fabric. 

jay cocks his head, confusion obvious on his face, “because it is?” his voice comes out slow, like he’s trying to process your words still, trying to understand you. you keep your gaze fixated on the window beside you. your lack of response makes him scoff. “you don’t have to pretend with me, y/n.” 

you hate that everytime he says your name a shock spirals down your spine. you wish that you could so easily not pretend with him. like you could rip off that mask you put on when you’re around everyone else— the mask that you weren’t even properly aware of until recently. yet, jay seems like he’s known of that mask forever. he knows that you’ve been shrinking yourself to fit into ruby’s shadow. but he must understand that it’s hard when you’ve spent your entire life doing that— being the calm and reasonable one to the girl that’s known as a chaotic, out of control mess that’s always the centre of attention. you swallow harshly at the thought of being unmasked around jay— like maybe he won’t even like you as much as he thinks he does. 

before you can mentally spiral more, jay is pulling up the curb outside of your apartment building. part of you is relieved to get out of this car where you feel so exposed, but the other part is wishing you’d do what jay is telling you to— to be yourself, to stay in this car longer like you really want to. 

you glance at jay briefly before your fingers wrap around the car door handle, ready to push it open and jump out. 

“why do you always look at me like you’re trying to not want me?” 

jay’s voice stops you, your body frozen as you face away from him, completely turned to the passenger side door to get out of here. but his words hit you like a truck— because it’s true and no one has actually voiced a thought you had thought about so many times before. you take a deep breath and turn your head over your shoulder to face him, still trying to keep your face expressionless, as if that’s gonna deter him in any way. 

jay’s hand lands on top of yours that’s resting on the centre console, like his hand is going to keep you there for longer. “if you want me y/n, then say it. show me who you are, what you really want.” 

your heart literally feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. you want to say it so bad— that you do want him, and that you’ve wanted him for a while, even if that makes you a terrible friend. your fingers twitch under his hand, thinking about what you should do. what would you really do in this situation? 

fuck it. 

before you can mentally talk yourself out of it and hide in the shell that you’ve created for yourself, you lean over the centre console and push your lips onto jay’s. he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. his lips latch onto yours and pull you closer to him. your hand drops from the car handle, turning your entire body to him. jay doesn’t think twice about slipping his hands under your sweater, cupping your breasts. he doesn’t mind that your skin is cold and wet against him. you’re body is chasing his to get warm and to feel like you’re understood and seen, if only for a few minutes. 

“take off your pants,” jay speaks against your lips, pulling away for a second to look at you before he smashes his lips back onto yours. “now.” 

you kiss him more time before you practically force yourself to stop. your hands shake with anticipation as you unbutton your rain-soaked pants and slide them off your legs onto the car floor. jay helps you take off your heavy and wet sweater, tossing it on the floor with your pants into one soggy pile that neither of you can care about right now. 

“want your lips on my cock,” jay confesses, almost desperate as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, already swollen from kissing him. 

without thinking twice, your hands reach down to his jeans, unbuttoning them quickly. you hear him chuckle dryly as he watches your hands move swiftly, wanting to free his cock just as much as he wanted you to. 

you pull his warm cock out of his pants, the veins starting to protrude as his cock hardens. 

“spit on it,” he tells you, pushing your head down over his cock. you do as he says, pursing your lips to let a glob of spit land right onto his cock. he hisses at the feeling of it. jay wraps his hand around his cock, keeping his eyes on you as he starts to jerk it, using your spit and half naked body to get him hard enough for you to take him into your mouth. 

you get on your knees on the passenger seat to lean over jay’s lap to be able to fully get his cock stuffed into your mouth. jay glances around outside once to make sure no one’s around, but it’s dark out and it’s pouring rain and his tinted windows are enough for people to not see much of anything with this weather. 

you lean down and slide his cock into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat, causing jay to groan out at once as he stares down at where his cock disappears. you wrap your hand around the base of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, making your hand work in sync with your mouth as you start to bob up and down. 

“fuck, that’s it.” jay groans above you. he grabs a handful of your hair in his hand, making a makeshift ponytail for you and him so he can get a better view of you. the car is filled with the faint sound of the heat running and slurping from your mouth working his cock in and out of your mouth. 

your lips suckle on his tip, making his hips buck up from the seat below him. you keep your eyes closed as you focus on making him feel good. you hollow your cheeks, letting the soft, inner skin of them massage around his cock as you shove the tip further and further into the back of your throat. 

“that’s good, oh god,” jay groans out above you. he brings his fingers to mouth, spitting on them before he reaches over behind you and pushes your panties to the side, wetting your pussy with his spit before he shoves two of his fingers inside you. you whimper around his cock at the sensation, making him buck up into your mouth again, wanting more of you. 

jay’s fingers start to slowly push in and out of your pussy, warming you up for his cock that he plans on stuffing you with soon. yet he doesn’t want to distract you from your mouth work on his cock. 

you keep bobbing your head up and down his cock, your spit covering his entire cock and dribbling down onto his balls. you’ve successfully gotten him hard and needy with every vein in his cock protruding. the top of his cock red and slick with not only your spit, but his pre cum that tastes like salt but sweet on your tongue. 

“fuck okay, get in the back.” jay pulls your head up off of his cock, letting go of your makeshift ponytail. you start to climb into the back seat, laughing when jay smacks your ass. jay crawls after you, sitting down on the seat and he pulls his jeans and boxers off of his legs before he pulls you over top of him to straddle him. your knees are on either side of his lap, resting on the leather seats of his bmw. 

you sit up on your knees, letting jay align his cock with your pussy, pushing your panties to the side again to make room. jay teases your weeping pussy with the head of his cock, gathering more of your juices to slide right in. he holds onto your waist as you slide yourself down onto his cock— both of you groaning out into the car as his cock reaches your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head as you take his cock at this angle. 

you move your hair out of your face before you lean over jay’s chest, keeping your head above his as you start to rock your hips back and forth. jay keeps his hands on your ass, squeezing the skin there as he helps you set a pace. 

“this good?” he asks you, wanting to make sure you were okay with this position. 

“god, yes,” 

jay smirks before he starts to lift you up over his cock before moving your hips back down, taking his cock fully back inside of you. he’s completely dominating, controlling when and how your hips move over his cock. like he’s using your pussy to get off. 

your hands land on the top of the car seat behind jay’s hand, holding yourself up so let jay use your pussy to make both of you feel good. he starts shoving you down his cock harder, the skin where your pussy and cock meet slapping and filling the car. your moans start to pick up the faster and harder he drops your hips back down over his cock. the tip of his cock jabbing your g spot every time from this angle. 

“fuck, wait,” jay gasps out as he keeps you still over his cock, holding your waist as he moves to lay sideways across the back car seats, using the door to keep him upright. you move to keep your feet against the seats now to hold you up instead of your bent knees. you’re hovering over him with his cock still lodged deep inside of you. “there, you have more room now.” 

you smile down at him sweetly before kissing him, your lips brushing against each other hungrily. jay keeps alternating his hands from your waist and ass, gripping your skin roughly. you start using the seat below your feet to help bounce yourself up and down on his cock. 

“oh god,” you moan out, your hand landing on the cool window by jay’s head. you find it hard to keep your lips off of jay’s. both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you fuck yourself down onto his cock. 

your clit is rubbing against his lower abdomen every time you bounce and it only edges you on further, despite the burning feeling in your knees already. 

“fuck, that’s it,” jay encourages you, keeping his eyes locked onto you as he watches you bounce on his cock. his hand lands hard on your ass, making you squeal as you keep riding him. “show me how bad you can be, baby.” you moan out at his words, the burning in your stomach growing as you want to prove to him that you’re more than just a good girl— that you’re more than what ruby portrays you as. 

with the fuel that’s being added, you push back away from jay, your body and elbows landing onto the centre console behind you. your legs are wrapped around jay’s waist as he still sits on the backseat, but your body is laying back, using the centre console as a platform to hold your back up. 

jay groans as he grabs your waist, your pussy out on display for him now that your knees are bent and wrapped around his waist. he can see your folds glistening and wet and suctioning his cock in. your clit is enlarged and throbbing, just begging for him to do something about it. 

you push your shirt up so your breasts are revealed, your nipples perked and hard from the cold rain. jay doesn’t waste a second and reaches out, grabbing a hold of them. “fuck, i love your tits.” his voice is husky now as he stares right at them, massaging them in his hands, “most perfect tits i’ve ever seen.” you moan out, your hips rolling over his cock, wanting him to move. he smirks at your desperation, but does what you want. he starts to fuck his cock into you now having the perfect view of your pussy, tits and face. 

“oh god, that feels so good,” you groan out, your eyes rolling as his cock fills you up again and again. jay’s eyes can’t stay in one place for long, scanning all over your body as his hips slide back and forth. you’re on display for him in the backseat of his car where you’re his complete centre of attention. 

jay spits on his fingers again before he smears it on your clit, wetting it more so his thumb can rub perfect circles over it. “fuck!” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as jay increases the pleasure you’re feeling. 

“yeah, baby? you like this?” jay nods at you, “like being fucked in my car? where anyone walking past can see you.” 

“mm, yeah, i love it.” 

jay smirks down at you, “yeah? you want people to see you spread out for me, showing me your wet fucking pussy?”

“y-yes, god it’s so wet, jay.” 

“fuck, baby i know, i know,” jay grits his teeth as he focuses on the feeling of your wet walls squeezing around him, letting his cock fuck up into them, stretching them out. “only sluts get this wet at the thought of people seeing them. is that what you are? a slut?”

jay’s cock is fucking so far into you, his ass is above the seat so he can get his full cock into you every single time he thrusts forward. he keeps one hand on your nipple, squeezing and tweaking it whilst his other hand rubs circles into your clit. he’s working your entire body as your pussy fucking sucks him in, massaging his cock and milking him, just begging for him to cum. 

when you don’t answer his hand on your nipple smacks your face, making you look up at him, making eye contact with him. his and your eyes match— they’re both filled with lust and need and desperation. “answer me— are.” jay fucks hard into you with every word, “you. a fucking. slut?” 

“yes!” you cry out, “oh god yes! i’m a slut— just for you, i’m your fucking slut.” your elbows on the centre console drop as you lean your back and head back so your head is basically in the front seat again. your hands grab your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples so hard for the pleasure to shoot down your body. 

“oh fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” jay grunts out, his hands grabbing your waist, fucking into you harder and harder as he watches your hands play with yourself as your head stays thrown back on the centre console, completely consumed in the pleasure. 

jay leans over and spits directly onto your pussy, making you moan out at how easy his cock slips inside of you now mixed with his warm spit. your legs are completely spread for him, your one foot on the door whilst the other one is spread across the back seat. you look and feel like such a whore for him, just for him. 

he reaches over your body, your hands interlocking over your breast as your and his hands squeeze it together. it’s a sense of intimacy as you hold hands whilst he pounds into you. it only fuels the desire you have for him— to prove to him that you aren’t some good girl that might break. 

jay’s car is filled with both of your moans, feeding off of the pleasure you’re both giving each other. “fuck you’re pussy is so tight,” jay groans out, like it’s truly unbelievable how tight your pussy is wrapping around him. like it’s enticing him to fuck you hard and faster until you’re screaming out for him. 

“choke me,” you moan out, voice desperate and airy as you look up at him. 

jay does what you ask of him, his hand wrapping around your neck tightly, blocking your airway from breathing correctly. “like this, slut? you like it like this?” 

“y-yes,” you manage to moan out, your eyes locked with his as his hand is wrapped around your neck. 

jay groans out at the sight before him, “god you’re so hot,” 

you smile at him through the pleasure and the lack of air reaching your brain. you can only focus on jay right now. the way he’s panting and moaning as he fucks into you. the sweat that’s dripping around his head as the car gets warmer and warmer with both of your heavy breathing plus the heat is still on from when you first got into his car. the windows around you are fogged up, you can barely see outside of them. the air is filled with the smell of sweat and sex and jay’s cologne. 

“fuck, c’mere,” jay lets go of your neck and instead pulls you up against him by wrapping his hands around your back. he sits up against the back of the seat and wraps you around his lap so you’re straddling him again. your hands grab onto the head rest behind him as he presses you chest to chest with him. 

you whine when you feel his shirt’s fabric against your half naked chest, “take this off.” your hands pull on the bottom hem of his shirt. jay snickers under his breath but does what you want, pulling the shirt off of himself, leaving him completely naked underneath you. 

you don’t stop yourself from dragging your hands down his bare chest, warm and firm under your touch. you think back to all the times you had seen him shirtless, walking around ruby’s apartment or all the times you went to the beach together. how every time you saw him you wanted to rub your fingers over his skin, familiarize yourself with all his moles and textures. and now that you’re actually able to, you don’t know how you can ever not touch him. 

jay grips your wrists suddenly, pulling them back behind him so your arms wrapped around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug as he shifts his hips underneath you slightly, causing his cock to brush against your gspot again. before you can complain that he’s been still for too long, he starts to pull out of you just to pump back into you over and over again. he sets a steady pace, pushing his hips up from the seat so he can fuck up into you. 

your arms stay interlocked with one another around his neck, your forehead leaning onto his as he fucks you. you keep your eyes on his as he stares up at you. his usual light brown eyes are dark and slanted as he grimaces from the pleasure. 

jay keeps you tight against him, chest to chest, as he fucks you hard. you’re forced to stay still and take it. his bmw is filled with the sounds of your moans and skin slapping roughly. everytime he groans underneath you your pussy clamps harder around his cock, encouraging him to keep going. and jay doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. 

jay’s not an idiot. he’s been aware that you’re hot, but he’s been aware that you’re ruby’s best friend. which strictly meant off limits in the dating world. but now that he’s pretty much done with ruby right now and you’re more than ready to take his cock, he doesn’t care about rules. the way your pussy grips his cock is enough for him to not stop. 

jay unlocks you from his trapped hug, letting you have space between your bodies. he doesn’t waste a second before he’s leaning forward to wrap his lips around your breasts. he sucks on them and bites them, coating them in his saliva that leaves your skin cold from the air when he pulls away. 

“c’mon, keep going,” jay slaps your ass, “bounce on my cock like the whore you are.” 

you moan out in response but brace yourself on your knees as you start to bounce up and down on his cock. it feels so good and the pleasure has been boiling in your body and your need and lust for jay has been suppressed for so long that you start bouncing feverishly. you’ve wanted jay for so long, and you know it’s wrong but now that you’ve had him not only once, but twice… you don’t know how once this is over you will be able to stop yourself from going back for thirds. 

because jay obviously makes you feel physically good— his cock hits all the right spots inside you, his fingers rub circles on your clit that have you mewling out and his complete attention on you when you fuck has you spiraling. but jay also makes you feel seen. and that’s something that you’ve always wanted. being with jay feels different from being with anyone you’ve ever met. and that’s dangerous. 

you put both of your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you start to ride his cock faster. he keeps his hands on your waist to help hold you steady, his eyes are entrained on you as he watches you work your way up and down his cock. your hair is becoming a mess as you fuck yourself faster and faster on his cock. your jaw stays agape as you feel his cock slide in and out of you, your juices and his saliva making your core a complete mess. 

“shit,” jay moans out, his eyes looking down at where your bodies connect, watching you bounce on him so desperately. he knows you want him to feel good, that you’ll do anything for him to cum, and it only makes the knot in his stomach tighten more. “that’s it baby, ride me like that. ride your best friend’s ex until you cum.” 

“oh god,” your grip on his shoulders tightens at his mention of ruby. the guilt and shame you feel only add to the pleasure as you glide your pussy up and down his cock over and over again. there’s sweat dripping down your forehead in the cramped backseat of his car. 

jay’s hand meets your face, slapping you so you look at him. he grips your jaw, keeping your head still as his fingers sink into your cheek’s flesh that he just smacked, “you think people would still think you’re an innocent good girl if they saw you right now, hm?” jay’s voice is dark and husky when he speaks. “the way you’re so desperate to bounce on my cock?” 

“n-no,” you whine out, your hair half fallen into your face, sticking to your forehead from your sweat. 

“and why not?” 

“b-because i’m a slut.” 

jay’s hand slaps your face one more time, “that’s right, you’re a fucking slut.” 

before you can fully comprehend it, jay is pushing you off of his lap, his cock sliding out of you. he pushes you down onto the seat next to him, your face and chest flush on to the seat. he moves so he’s kneeling behind you, pulling your hips up in the air so your pussy and ass are on complete display for him. your ass is pink from his hands slapping and gripping the flesh. your pussy is stretched and agape as it tries to clamp down around nothing. 

“ah fuck, look at this pussy,” jay groans out as he reaches his fingers down to the flesh. you jolt as he touches your swollen and red lips, covered in your juices in a complete mess. “it’s so swollen, so needy and pathetic.” 

“mhm,” you nod your head against the leather seat as you look back over your shoulder at him. 

jay glances at your face, pulling his lips into a smirk, “yeah? you’re pathetic and needy for me? for my cock?” 

“yes, jay,” you’re quick to agree with him, because it’s true. “i need you so bad, please.” you wiggle your hips back, trying to get him to put his cock back inside of you. 

you hear him curse under his breath one more time before both of his hands come down onto your ass, making you jolt forward with a cry as he spanks you again. the pain only adds to the pleasure you feel in the pit of your stomach. 

before you can complain and beg for his cock again, jay forces his cock back into your hole. you’re so wet that it slides in so, so easily. he’s stretched you out perfectly. like his cock fits exactly in your pussy. 

jay grabs your waist from behind, holding you still as he starts to ram his cock in and out of you from behind. you put one of your hands on the car door above your head so you don’t hit your head. a cry escapes your lips as his cock starts to hit your gspot from a new angle. it feels even better somehow. 

everytime he slides his hard cock back into you his soaked balls slap against your clit. the noise your bodies make every time they meet is so ludicrous, straight out of a porno. 

“is this what you wanted, baby? for me to fuck you like the real slut you are?” jay asks from behind you, his voice rough as he demands an answer from you.

“f-fuck yes!” you cry back, your eyes straining to remain open as he fucks you harder and harder, your body jolting forward everytime his hips meet yours. 

“say it then,” jay’s hand hits your already red ass cheek again, “say you want to be fucked like a slut.” 

“i- i want to be fucked like a slut, like y-your slut.”

you hear jay groan at your words, his pace picking up speed as he drills his cock in and out of your sopping pussy. both of you can feel your warm walls start to become sporadic around his cock. your desperation for him showing as your pussy sucks him back in everytime he fucks back into you. it’s getting harder and harder for jay to even pull back out from how tight and warm and wet your walls are around him. it’s like truly heaven for him. 

“fuck, you’re such a whore for me,” jay groans out, “the way your pussy is fucking dripping, so fucking messy.” 

you can only moan harder in response, your lungs filling with pleasure as he fucks into you at just the perfect pace and intensity. it’s all you ever wanted from him. you can’t remember all of the times you’ve thought about him fucking you like this, rough and needy and risky. there’s so much on the line right now, if anyone walked too close to his car right now, if ruby somehow found out. the risk only makes your pussy burn more for his cock. 

you can’t take it much longer anymore and you slip your hand in between your body and the car seat, your fingers landing on your swollen, wet clit and start rubbing circles on it, bringing yourself closer to the edge. you hear jay chuckle darkly behind you as he keeps up his drilling pace. he reaches over your back, his hand cupping the back of your neck so it’s pinned against the car seat below you, trapping your head from moving and decreasing the amount of oxygen to your brain once again. your eyes roll to the back of your head, the pleasure taking over your body everywhere with jay’s scent surrounding you. 

“yeah, that’s it,” jay’s voice is breathless by your ear as he hovers over your back, his chest pressed into you, “make yourself cum on my cock, baby, please,”

jay’s plead for you to cum sends you spiraling and it only takes a few more thrusts of his cock to send you over the edge, finally. you feel like you’ve been holding back your orgasm since he first slid his cock into you. that’s how much power he has over you. just a simple touch from jay can send one million shocks of pleasure through you at a time. 

your body felt like it was on fire as the orgasm ripped through you. your scream fills the car and you hope no one is walking out in the rain beside the car right now. your pussy clamps down tight around jay’s cock as you cum, getting wetter as your juices drip around his cock delved deep inside of you. 

“fuck, baby that’s it.” jay groans out as he feels your pussy around his sensitive cock. your pussy feels like velvet to him and he doesn’t know much longer he can last. 

with your body still shaking from adrenaline and pleasure, jay rips his cock out of you. your body is weak and limp and he rolls you over so you’re on your back and facing him. 

“please let me cum on your face, please baby,” jay’s eyes are pleading as his hand starts to stroke his cock fast, his cock soaked in your juices. 

“please,” you whimper out, mind still hazy but you sit up your elbows to watch him, “please cum jay, i want to taste your cum so bad.” your eyebrows are furrowed together as you look up at him. “make a mess of my face, please.” 

your begging for his cum is enough for him as he lets out a loud grunt before strings of warm, white cum come out of his red tip and land all over your face. there are strands by your lips, your cheek and one singular one on your forehead. you moan out at the feeling of his warm cum on your face. like he’s marked his territory on you. 

jay’s hand slows down it’s movements on his cock as no more cum comes out, his whole chest is heaving from his high. 

“oh fuck,” he grunts out. his body is weak but he leans down and presses his lips onto yours harshly for a quick second before pulling back to look at the mess he made on your face. “you look so hot.” 

you can’t help but giggle at his compliment. you feel wet and sticky and sore everywhere, but the way jay is looking at you keeps you awake and alert. no one has ever looked at you the way jay is looking at you right now. like you’re the centre of the universe to him. 

jay reaches out and swipes each strand of his cum off of your dewy skin before he tells you to “open”. he shoves his fingers of cum into your mouth. you wrap your lips around his fingers as you moan at the taste of his salty cum filling your mouth. your tongue circles his fingers, wanting to get every last drop of cum off of his fingers. 

when you’re done he takes them out of your mouth, keeping a soft smile on his lips before he leans back down over you, kissing you again. he moans into the kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. you let his tongue explore your mouth for a while even though your knees and ass cheeks are sore. if it means that you’ll be close to jay for longer than you don’t care about the pain. 

jay reaches to the floor of his car and picks up his shirt to wipe down your legs and core. you laugh when he wipes your face off of any remaining cum. it feels intimate and normal to laugh with each other whilst naked. 

jay fumbles around for an extra sweater he can put on and slips his jeans back on before he gives you your own clothes. he opens the backdoor and steps out into the rain for a second when you start fixing your shirt and pulling your jeans back on just to get in the driver's seat again. jay reaches over the centre console to pick up your bag and wet clothes before he tosses them to you in the back seat. 

“you good?” jay turns to the back to look at you, he has a light, amused look on his face. 

“yeah, i’m good.” you respond softly, pushing your messy hair behind your ear. 

jay smiles at you, “you should go, before someone sees.” 

his words make your fake world shatter as reality sets back in. that this isn’t the fantasy land where you’re dating jay and aren’t some little good girl that does everything ruby says. that everything that just happened in this car is just between you and jay. a secret. 

“okay,” you can’t help how weak your voice goes, physically drained from the sex but emotionally hurt. 

“i’ll text you,” jay nods, like he’s promising that he won’t forget you, and that there’ll be more. 

you repeat your soft okay, pulling your bag over your shoulder as you step out of the backseat and out into the rain that hasn’t calmed down since he parked. you close the car door gently, like you’re scared any loud movements would pull you out of your fantasyland even sooner. 

you lightly jog up to your building’s door, the rain cold on your arms. jay doesn’t wait for you to get inside, his car is already turning onto another street by the time you look back to the road. 

when you’re done showering, cleaning off all the substances off your body and warming up from the rain, you can’t help but think about jay. you stare at your blurry reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror as you brush your teeth. how long will this thing between you and jay last for? 

you spit and put your toothbrush down, leaning on the palms of your hands over the sink as you stare at yourself. your mind is becoming tangled with jay and you and ruby. you know that you shouldn’t want jay as much as you do, that if ruby ever found out… it would ruin the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

but jay is involved, too. you think jay must want you, too, even a little. it’s just does he want more than sex with you, or does he want exactly what you want? you want to call him yours, and no one else's. you want more than secret sex that is only kept between you two. 

it’s wrong to think of your best friend’s boyfri— ex boyfriend like this, and you know it. but you can’t help the feeling that rushes through you when you think about the way he says your name, or when he calls you baby. you can’t help that all your nerves in your skin feel like they’re on fire when he touches you. or that he makes you feel understood and real. he’s the only person in this world that makes you feel like you’re worth something more than just ruby’s shadow. 

and it just so happens that he’s ruby’s ex boyfriend… you hope it can stay just between you and jay, at least just for a while.

although you were a health science major and jay was in finance, you both managed to have classes in the same buildings at your university. jay used to walk you and ruby to your classes before going off to his. he used to hold the door for you and ruby, always pressing a kiss into her cheek as she followed you into the classroom. 

but now that it’s been two weeks since jay and ruby have spoken (a world record), it’s you holding the classroom door for a depressed ruby, whose shoulders are always slack as she plops down into her seat. ruby used to be like the campus’ ray of sunshine. you always found it hard to have a conversation with her in the hallways because people would always be cutting in to talk to ruby. everyone on campus knew her. but now, there was a dark grey storm cloud over her head that would deter people away from her. 

before, it ruby’s head would always be on the lookout for jay, trying to catch a glimpse of him in the hallways before class until he’d come up behind her and link his arms around her waist. you’d always avert your eyes to their pda. it always caused a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t ignore. 

ruby still looks for the jay in the hallways, but instead of longing for him she hides away. 

“tell me if you see that asshole, y/n.” ruby whispers to you on your way to physiology class, her head ducked down to your ear as she links her elbow with yours. 

you sigh, “ruby, are you really still hiding from him?” you give her an incredulous look. “it’s not like he’s gonna bite you or anything.” 

“ugh, i wish he would.” ruby shakes her head as she keeps her eyes forward. she misses the way you cringe at her words, unable to help the memory of the way jay’s teeth bite down on your inner thigh that gets forced into your mind. “at least then he’d acknowledge me somehow.” 

“still no text from him?” 

“no, not even a like on my insta.” 

you’ve seen ruby sulk before— like last summer there was a 50-50 chance if she’d be ecstatic or depressed every other day when her and jay were going through another one of their “rough patches”. but those moods never lasted as long as this one has. it’s gotten to the point that you’re seeing different sides of your best friend that you hadn’t even known existed. ruby has become more desperate and clingy. you hadn’t realized before how much her mood is affected by her relationship with jay. it’s like she’s fragile. 

“yo, jay!” a male voice calls from behind you. you feel ruby freeze beside you as you both see park wonbin behind you, coming closer as he keeps his gaze locked in the hallway in front of you— obviously searching for someone. 

“shit!” ruby lets out a sharp hiss before she darts into the girls’ washroom, leaving you standing alone in the hallway. 

you watch park wonbin walk straight past you, much like everyone else does when ruby isn’t with you. “jay, bro, where have you been?” wonbin continues, his hand reaching up as he aims to dab jay up who stands right in front of him now. 

you can’t help the way your chest tightens when you see that jay is fully turned in your direction, but his eyes don’t even flicker your way— they stay on wonbin. jay’s lips (that you’ve become pretty familiar with) upturn into his usual smirk as he meets wonbin. 

if jay turns his eyes to the right just a little bit he’d be able to see you. please. you mentally beg him to look at you. for him to acknowledge your presence in this busy hallway where you stand by yourself. 

“sorry, i slept in.” you hear him reply to wonbin, nudging wonbin’s shoulder away from him with his fist. 

“up late again last night,” you don’t see wonbin’s face but by the sound of his voice you can tell that it’s scrunched up into a playful tease. “who’d you fuck this time?” 

jay rolls his eyes, turning away from you as he starts to walk further down the hall with wonbin, “shut up, bin.” 

there’s like an elastic band wrapped around jay and your heart, and the further he walks down the hall, the smaller his head gets in  your vision before he turns the corner, the more the elastic band threatens to break. it’s squeezing so tight, fully stretched out until it snaps completely when he’s out of sight. but only your heart is affected, it gets hit from the elastic so hard it stings in your chest.

people keep walking past you in the hallway, weaving around you to not hit you, but they don’t look at you. no, they don’t look at you the way they look at ruby if she was in your position right now. and maybe that’s good for you, or else they’d be able to see the yearning that’s in your eyes as you stare at the last place you saw jay. 

a sudden hit to your shoulder has you breaking out of your trance. 

“oh! i’m so sorry!” a blonde girl puts her hand out to you to apologize, but she doesn’t wait for you to say anything, she keeps walking down the hall with the rest of her friends. 

you take it as a sign that you should go check up on ruby in the bathroom instead of waiting around, hoping for jay park to turn around. 

there’s no one in the girls’ bathroom except for ruby who stands at the mirror, wiping underneath her eyes to rub away the fallen mascara. you can tell she’s been crying when she looks at you. 

“did you see him?” ruby rushes her question out, her eyes wide. “did he say anything to you?” 

“no, he didn’t see me, he just kept walking with wonbin.” 

ruby’s eyes and lips frown at your response, turning back to the mirror to fix her makeup. you lean against the sink counter, watching her gently. 

“he didn’t even glance over?” 

you shake your head no. 

ruby lets out a bitter laugh as he stares at you through the mirror reflection. “you should’ve said something.” 

your eyebrows furrowed together, “said what?” 

“i don’t know, y/n!” ruby’s hands flare at her sides, “something! anything! for once.” 

you take a step back from her, not liking her anger that is obviously rising. “are you really gonna keep dong this, ruby?” 

“doing what?” she turns to face you, arms crossed over her chest as she stares down at you. 

“acting like there’s something i could’ve done to prevent jay from ignoring you.” 

you see red flash through ruby’s eyes quickly— but her expression fades just as quick. she drops her arms, looking at herself once more in the mirror. 

“whatever. we should get to class,” she mutters under her breath, walking past you to the door without looking back. 

you wait a second before following her.

you hadn’t been able to focus reading your textbook the past week since your apartment building was under construction, something about weak pipes on the roof. which meant that from morning to late afternoon all you could hear was relentless banging and drilling as the construction workers fixed the pipes. 

you really needed to get this week’s chapter read for your medical terminology class tomorrow though since your professor has spontaneously started giving pop quizzes for each chapter every week. and since ruby has basically been M.I.A after your physiology class a few days ago you can’t ask to study at her place. 

which leaves you to study at the campus library. 

you didn’t mind the campus library. you use to sit in the library for hours during your first year when your and ruby’s schedules barely lined up. you’d wait for her and jay to come find you after class, pulling you away from your study session to get you to go to some lame party with them. the librarians used to love you since you were always so quiet and didn’t cause any mayhem like a lot of the other students that would come in there. they used to greet you with a smile every time you’d walk in the door with your hands full of textbooks and paper. though, you remember the scowl on their face every time they’d see ruby and jay walk in to come get you. ruby never understood why everyone has to be quiet in a public library. 

you were halfway through the skeletal system chapter with your headphones in and hair pulled into a claw clip to keep your hair out of your face, when sudden warm fingers spread across the back of your exposed neck. 

you jolt upward, your hand flying to your neck as check behind you— catching the eyes of jay who walked behind you, a playful smirk on his face as he looks over his shoulder as he keeps walking past. he’s in a group with his friends, none of them aware of you or that jay had touched you. 

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you look at him, your bottom lip being caught in between your teeth as you try to mask the shyness that takes over you. jay winks at you before he turns back to his friends, all of them retreating to the far back of the library, out of yours and the librarians view. 

your hand stays on the back of your neck where jay had touched you. the nerves on the skin still tingling as you can feel where each one of his fingers had grazed you. your stomach felt like it had exploded with butterflies at the innocent touch. 

but it was more than that. 

sure, he hadn’t stopped to talk to you, but he had seen you. which is more than you can say from what happened in the hallway a few days ago. 

your textbook feels so unimportant now, spread open in front of you. your fingers dancing on the base of your neck, trying to keep the feeling of jay’s fingers there for as long as you can. you know you should really be able to focus on the types of bones in the hand and their functions, but now jay has completely taken control of your brain, once again. 

you wonder why he hadn’t taken the risk to tease you in front of his friends, in public. did it mean that he wasn’t afraid for his friends to know what you and him have done in his bed and in his car? you wish he would say something to you, but for now you’ll have to settle with his actions, trying to decipher what they mean. you decide that is enough for you for now, just knowing that jay sees you, even when ruby’s not around. he confuses you, but you figure it’s worth it if he makes you feel like you’re ontop of the world.

on thursday night, when the construction workers finally go home for the night, you plan on sitting on your couch watching reruns of love island and eating take out since you had two three hour lectures earlier. you just wanted to relax in your own home, in silence. 

but, since ruby is your best friend you should’ve figured that wouldn’t have worked out for you. 

even though it’s been days since you have seen ruby, when there’s a sudden knock on your front door you don’t doubt that it’s her. before you can even get up from your spot on the couch where you had planned to rot all night, the front door swings open, and sure enough, it’s ruby. 

“move over,” she huffs out, making you scoot over so she can sit on the couch beside you. she copies your previous position, putting her feet up on the coffee table in front of your couch and drapes the blanket over top of her lap so you’re sharing it. ruby wrinkles her nose when she sees maya jama on screen, announcing that there'll be another re-coupling tonight. “really? love island?” 

you shrug, “it’s entertaining, ok?” 

ruby rolls her eyes but doesn’t complain about your choice in television again. it’s the first time you’ve seen her in a while. you figured she needed space since your little argument in the bathroom, and all the stuff that’s going on with jay. usually you’d be worried if she hadn’t texted you in a while, even if the text was just about homework, but you didn’t seem to be bothered this time around. 

when all the couples are surrounding the firepit and maya jama reappears in another designer dress, ruby sighs before she turns to face you. 

“i’m sorry for ignoring you the past few days,” she starts and pulls her sweater’s sleeves over her hands. you notice that she’s hiding within herself, something she very rarely does. “i’ve been thinking about what you said in the bathroom last week— and you’re right.” your attention is fully on her at this point, though she can barely keep her eyes on yours without looking down at her lap. “i shouldn’t expect you to throw yourself in my and jay’s relationship. and i know that i’ve made you so involved in it and that’s not fair to you. i shouldn’t burden you with all of my relationship drama, i get like, if you’re super annoyed with it. i know i would be.” 

you softly smile at ruby, “you’re my best friend, ruby. i wanna be there for you, when you’re happy or sad or whatever. i just, i can’t control what jay does, and i know that’s frustrating but, i wish you would understand that i can’t make him do anything. he’s his own person.” 

ruby nods, “i know— i do understand. i guess, it’s just you’ve always been there throughout the entire time i’ve been with jay, so i guess it’s kinda like you’re a part of the relationship, too.” she dryly chuckles, but you can’t make yourself laugh. she glances at you warily and then continues, “i guess what i’m trying ot say is, i'm sorry for projecting my relationship problems onto you, or pressuring you or anything like that. i love you, you’re my best friend.” 

you open your arms up, “come here.” 

ruby smiles and scoots over the middle couch cushion to wrap her arms around you, your chins on each others’ shoulders. her familiar chanel perfume takes over your senses. 

“i love you, too.” 

ruby pulls back with a grin, “good, because tomorrow you’re coming to a party with me.” her voice jumps a few pitches, her eyebrows wiggling playfully. 

“what?”

ruby sits back on the couch with her feet propped on your coffee table, “yeah, i’m tired of sitting around all day crying about jay— i wanna go out! have fun again!” she reaches over to your lap, grabbing your popcorn bowl and starts eating a handful. “plus, he blocked me on everything so,” 

“what?” you gasp, leaning over her, jaw agape. “he what?” 

ruby rolls her eyes, “he fucking blocked me, on everything! he’s such a man child.” 

your fingers tangle into your hair on your scalp, trying to process what ruby is saying. jay and ruby have had some pretty awful fights, but they’ve never blocked each other on everything before. 

“why do you look so shocked?” ruby gives you a quizzical smile, “you know jay, you know how he thinks ignoring people says more than actual words.” ruby lowers her voice a few octaves to mock jay’s voice before she laughs, “he’s such an idiot.” 

your body feels limp as you sit back on the couch. you can’t help but feel a rush of guilt wash through you. was it your fault that he had blocked her on everything? have you really driven them apart? you try to think about what you had said to jay about ruby that could’ve caused him to cut ties with her like this, but nothing comes to mind. he doesn’t even let you say her name when you’re with him. 

“don’t look so worried, y/n, calm down,” ruby waves her hand at you before she takes another handful of popcorn into her mouth, “god, you’re lucky no one plays games with you like this. but, i guess no one’s ever obsessed over you anyway to wanna play games with you.” 

you cock your head, wanting to push her more about what she meant, but molly’s just been dumped from love island, making ruby scoff and shake her head. “i don’t even like, kady! why does molly have to go!” 

you know that you should feel better that things with ruby are okay again. she’s sitting on your couch complaining about reality tv with you and planning when to go out again. it’s like usual, but it’s not. 

the usual isn’t that you’re secretly hooking up with your best friends ex boyfriend. the usual usually includes jay being here with you, whether he’s fighting with ruby or making her giggle quietly. 

the usual doesn’t include you realizing your best friend makes you feel like shit— undesirable and unseen. it doesn’t include her ex boyfriend making you realize that you can shine without ruby. that you’re wanted. 

you stare at the tv without really watching it— you’ve seen it before, the islanders crying as they hug molly goodbye as zach looks shocked that she’s really leaving. you use to compare yourself to molly, almost having something you really want before it’s ripped away from you. but now you wonder if you’re more like zach, watching everything happen but not doing anything to stop it until he feels a quiet guilt that he can’t fix.

even though ruby is usually always late to class, she is never late when she has to pick you up to go to a party. so she’s pulled up outside your apartment right at 10pm sharp, texting you to come downstairs. you take one last look in the mirror before you leave, hoping that ruby doesn’t get too drunk today that you leave within an hour to take her home. that’s happened too many times before. 

but all those times before weren’t as bad since jay was with you and would help you walk ruby up the stairs to her apartment and tuck her into bed. if she would start throwing up then you would hold her hair as jay rubs her back. jay being there would definitely make the drunk ruby experience a lot better. 

but tonight, there would be no jay to help you with her. 

as soon as you got in the car and started driving to the party, you knew that tonight might be one of those nights where you leave early and have to physically push ruby up the stairs and get her into bed since she’d be totally incapable of doing it herself. 

“i’m just so tired of thinking about jay!” ruby waves her hand dismissively, “i want to have fun tonight okay! so let’s dance all night okay, y/n?” 

you smile at her, “sure, if you want.” but you know that once she starts drinking as soon as you get to the party that she won’t be able to stop and she’ll be dancing with anyone. 

you pull up to some house, with minimal lights on inside but you can hear the music from the front yard so you know there’s a party in there. plus there’s drunk people already on the porch, laughing and struggling to stand up by themselves. 

inside the house was crowded, probably one of the most crowded house parties you’ve ever been to in your life. it was a struggle for you to follow ruby into the kitchen, but she kept a hold of your hand and led you through it. you could hear people greeting ruby in front of yo, but you kept your head down, just trying to get through this crowd without being elbowed in the side. 

the kitchen was already a mess and the party hadn’t started too long ago. there were solo cups all over the table and opened bottles of vodka, and for some reason the tiled floor was soaked. 

“you’re are so taking shots with me tonight,” ruby squealed as she looked down at the variation of drinks. “shots? really?” you ask her, you had never been a fan of shots, plus it was hard to take shots when you always had to be the sober friend to look out for ruby. 

“yes! please,” ruby begs you, her eyes pleading for you to agree, “please c’mon, you know how hard it’s been for me recently.” 

you cringe at the mention of why she’s been so down recently, knowing that maybe you had a part in it. you take a glance at all the vodka and the different coloured shot glasses in front of you and you decide that maybe taking a shot would decrease the feeling of guilt that’s crawling up your throat. 

“fine, pour me one.” 

“yay!” ruby claps excitedly as she grabs a bottle and pours some of the clear liquid into four shot glasses. “two for you and two for me.” 

“what, two?” 

“yes duh! it’ll be fine, please.” 

you take a look at her sad, begging eyes for a moment, and then pick up both shot glasses, ignoring how ruby laughs triumphantly. you’ve never really been drunk with her before, so she so badly wanted you to be as wasted as her. on the count of three, both of you drink both of your shots consecutively, cringing at the bad taste. 

“ugh, here, hurry,” ruby’s face is scrunched up from the taste, and reaches over to get two cups, pouring some purple punch into them. she passes you one and you both eagerly down the punch, it’s fruity taste a lot better than the strong vodka shots. ruby cheers, her cheeks warm as the alcohol enters her system. she scoops some more punch into hers and your now empty cups, “let’s go dance!” 

you’re still processing the awful vodka taste in your mouth and the way the liquor felt as it goes down your stomach, but you follow ruby back into the crowded living room, holding tight onto your cup. 

ruby pulls you into some little circle that’s in the middle of the living room, greeting some people and hugging them. everyone is holding the same red solo cups as you and ruby. 

“this is my best friend, y/n!” ruby gestures to you in front of the group. “y/n, this is chaeryeong, dana and lexi.” 

you wave at them and mumble a hi under your breath and they do the same before they turn back to ruby. the girl who has long black hair, chaeryeong, grabs ruby’s arm with a serious expression. 

“did you see jay?” 

“what do you mean?” ruby cocks her head, confused. 

“jay’s here, ruby.” 

you see ruby’s face pale as she starts to look around. you have to refrain from looking around yourself. but unlike ruby, you’re looking around because you want to see him, not hide from him. 

“oh my god, why? i thought him and beomgyu didn’t get along,” 

the girl with the curly blonde hair, dana, shrugs, “i don’t know, i guess they made up. i know they’re both friends with wonbin, so.” 

ruby groans, “this sucks, i wanted to have fun tonight! not worry about my ex boyfriend lurking around.” 

chaeryeong puts a hand on ruby’s shoulder, “don’t worry, ruby, we can still have fun!” she turns and looks at you, “right?” 

you perk up as she includes you, “right, you said you wanted to dance ruby.” 

“oh my god, please!” ruby brightens up at the mention of dancing and turns back to the group, “have you guys taken shots or are you just drinking the punch?” 

“just the punch,” dana shows ruby her cup. 

ruby sighs, “come on then, let’s get you guys some shots!” 

before you can say anything else the three girls cheer and follow ruby back into the kitchen. you don’t have any other choice but to follow them, not wanting to be left alone in the middle of the living room. 

ruby starts pouring her three friends some shots, but you stay at the doorway of the kitchen, telling them that you’d prefer the punch instead. you stare back into the living room as dana and ruby start talking about their lab partners for physiology, something that you don’t care to talk about but chaeryeong and lexi seem interested in. 

the house is dark with the only light being from some lazily put up string lights and cheap disco balls. the music has seemingly gotten louder in the past twenty minutes since you’ve been here. you can feel the alcohol warm your stomach, starting to settle into your body. 

you hear ruby cheer again behind you, and you know she must’ve taken another shot. you wonder if any of ruby’s three friends will help you tuck ruby into bed later on. but with the way they’re drinking too, you doubt it. 

you start to think about how if jay were here he’d probably be telling ruby to settle down, or maybe they’d be fighting. but you would know that he’d still help you pack ruby into an uber later on. 

if you hadn’t known that jay was apparently at this party, you would’ve thought that you were hallucinating him from thinking about him too much when you suddenly see him on the other side of living room. he’s standing by the stairs, the fairy lights that are circled loosely around the stair rail hang behind his head, like a halo. 

it’s like he could feel your eyes on him because suddenly he starts looking around the room, turning away from his friend, until his eyes land on yours, still standing in the kitchen doorway. 

you freeze as you look at eachother, but a smirk spreads on jay’s face. his eyes land on your cup for a second, before they return back to your eyes. even from across a crowded room he makes you nervous. he has some dominant energy that takes over you. 

his friend starts talking to him again, making jay turn away from you for a second before he winks at you, then giving his friend his full attention. you think it’s partly due the alcohol, but your cheeks feel warm. 

“y/n,” ruby grabs your arm, turning you around, “let’s go dance!” 

you’re grateful that the house is so dark, or else ruby would’ve definitely commented on how red your cheeks are right now. 

“um, sure. yeah,” you nod at her, your mouth suddenly dry. if ruby looks out into the kitchen doorway right now, she’ll probably see jay. your chest tightens at the thought of what might happen if ruby and jay see each other right now. you’re assuming that jay is also drinking and ruby is on the way to becoming wasted, you wonder if they’d even be able to have a conversation. would they somehow make up after weeks of not talking? 

ruby’s grip on you tightens as she starts to pull you back into the crowded living room, chaeryeong, dana and lexi coming with you. they’re talking about something, but you can’t hear them over the music. you turn your head back to the stair rail where you had last seen jay, but he wasn’t there. your heart drops but you also feel relieved that he had moved, you didn’t want ruby to see him. 

you dance with the girls for a bit, trying to lean into the way the alcohol was making you feel. you finished another cup of your punch and were starting to feel the alcohol burn in the pit of your stomach. the music was sounding better, even if you didn’t know the songs. 

for a while, as you danced, you thought that ruby had control over herself. that she actually hadn’t drank that much. but as the hour prolonged with the five of you dancing in the middle of the living room, and your feet starting to hurt despite the alcohol numbing your lips, you could see ruby’s demeanor start to deteriorate. 

ruby started dancing more sloppily, smiling lazily and yelling loudly but slurred. she kept her hand on dana’s shoulder as she danced, to keep herself balanced. the other three girls were definitely more drunk than you, but they weren’t as drunk as ruby. you could see chaeryeong struggling to keep her eyes wide open, they wanted to fall into slits so she could try to see better but it obviously wasn’t working with the alcohol in her system. 

suddenly, ruby stopped dancing, dropping her hand from dana’s shoulder to cover her mouth. she was bent over slightly, her eyes wide as she started to push through the crowd of people. the four of you look confused at each other before you all start to follow ruby. you all call her name, wanting her to slow down, but it was no use. you all followed her up the stairs, leading to the second floor of the house. 

even though there was a girl about to walk into the bathroom, ruby pushed past her, practically falling onto her knees in front of the toilet. the bit of panic you felt stopped when you saw that she was running away just to throw up. dana is quick to pull ruby’s hair into a makeshift ponytail and chaeryeong turns on the ceiling bathroom light so you could actually see something. 

the poor girl that was pushed out of the bathroom for ruby to vomit was standing there in shock, her jaw dropped with a look of disgust on her face as she watched ruby continuously throw up into the toilet. 

“i’m so sorry,” you gush at the girl, your face scrunched up in embarrassment for some reason. 

the girl looks at you and then quietly laughs, “that’s ok, duty calls.” she gestures at ruby. 

you smile politely at her as the girl turns and starts to head back downstairs. ruby’s friends are all crowding the bathroom door, trying to check in on ruby. the bathroom is quite small though, so you can only stand in the hallway by the door. 

you’re trying to see if ruby is alright, but it’s hard to see through the other three girls. you see lexi turn on the tap, filling her red cup with water for ruby as ruby is still hunched over the toilet bowl. you think it’s time to leave, for ruby’s sake. 

but at least this time you lasted more than an hour. 

unexpectedly, a hand reaches out and grabs your arm and pulls you out of the hallway. you try to speak, to yell to the other girls for help, but another hand lands on your mouth, preventing you. they pull you into a bedroom that was right beside the bathroom, closing the door once you’re pulled in. 

you squirm in the person’s grasp, trying to get them to let you go, your heart picking up pace as you feel their presence behind you. your body is pushed up against the now closed bedroom door, and it’s only then that you see a pair of familiar, brown eyes looking into yours. 

though your body only relaxes when you hear jay’s annoying laughter in your eyes, “i got you good, huh?” he takes his hands off of you, taking a step back so he can take in your scared expression. 

you cross your arms over your body, “haha, very funny.” you speak sarcastically, not impressed by him at all. 

jay tsks at your annoyed face, “oh c’mon, baby, i just wanted to see you.” you tense at the nickname, looking back at the door subconsciously, not wanting ruby to hear him. “relax, they didn’t see me pull you in here.”

“well you’re lucky they didn’t, why would you do that?” your eyebrows furrowed together, concern laced on your face at the thought of anyone seeing you enter a room alone with jay. 

 jay shrugged, “because i wanted to see you.” 

you roll your eyes, “and you couldn’t do it in a more inconspicuous way?” 

jay smirks before he quickly pushes his body against yours, pinning you against the door and him, “no, not when you look so good tonight.” 

you try to push him off, to tell him that he’s being irresponsible, but his lips attach to your neck, pressing kisses into your soft skin. his body feels so warm on yours as his hands start to move down your body. 

“j-jay, we can’t!”

“why not?” jay mumbles against your skin, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing your bare thighs. 

“because ruby is right next door,” you hiss at him, trying to get your voice to see unaffected by his actions. 

jay only smirks and starts to lift the bottom of your dress up, revealing your panties, “so? can’t you be quiet? or is my dick that good?” he laughs when you roll your eyes at him. 

“this is wrong, jay. she could hear!” 

“this entire thing is wrong, it’s been wrong— who cares if she hears?” 

you know he’s right. it’s been wrong since you stayed far too long in his apartment those weeks ago. it’s been wrong since the moment you sat on his lap and made out with him, since he’s made you cum in the backseat of his car. but maybe it’s been wrong since the moment he started dating ruby. the way he’s always been on your mind, how you always caught him staring maybe a second too long at you when ruby would leave the room. you think that maybe in a twisted way, you hooking up with jay at this party that his ex girlfriend brought you to, this was all right. 

jay feels you relax under his touch, and he knows that he’s won. that you’ll let him do anything to you, even hook up with him while his ex and your best friend is in the room right beside you. the rooms share a wall. she’s only meters away from you and jay. 

the thought of ruby walking in and seeing you with jay sends a shock down your body, making your arms grip onto jay’s shoulders as his fingers push your panties to the side are start to massage your clit in a circle. jay knows how you like it now, soft but fast. he knows you like to be teased. he knows what your pussy feels like when you cum. 

he knows too much about you for it to ever go back to how it was before. when it was him and ruby, and ruby’s best friend. 

you let out a sigh of pleasure as you melt into jay’s touch. his fingers starting to warm you up. you can both feel your pussy start to moisten at his touch. you both know how easy it is for jay to get you to soften. 

jay’s lips attach to yours, feverishly. his lips are rough against yours, making out with you against the door hastily. you don’t struggle to keep up with his pace, you let him guide you along. you let his tongue in your mouth, something that he’s done too many times before. like he can recognize every inch of your  mouth now. you don’t think your best friend’s ex should be able to do that. 

“fuck, we shouldn’t do this, jay,” you pull away slightly at the thought of ruby again. but jay’s fingers remain on your clit, circling it, getting your knees to start to quiver. 

“you always say that, yet you always let me touch you, always let me make you feel good.” jay’s voice deepens as he speaks, his fingers slowly becoming covered in your juices as your pussy gets wetter and wetter. there’s something about the risk of being caught, especially if it was by ruby, that sends you spiraling. it has your adrenaline pumping through your veins. “are you that addicted to my dick, y/n? can’t say no to it?” 

you whimper at his question, hating the way that he can so easily wrap himself around your mind, your thoughts. “y-yes, you know i love your dick.” 

jay chuckles dryly at you, not wasting a second to start making out with you again. the back of your head is pushed against the door behind you, your fingers clawing at jay’s black t shirt. his fingers start to pick up pace on your clit, rubbing it just the way you like it. the way that can make you cum the fastest. 

you moan into jay’s mouth, part of you thankful that his tongue is wrapped around yours so that ruby can’t hear you. you start to circle your hips more, trying to get jay to move even faster, trying to get even more of him. 

jay pulls away and looks down at your circling hips, his fingers disappearing under your panties and chuckles, “fuck you’re so desperate for me— you even risk getting caught by your best friend just to get my dick.” 

you nod, your hair becoming a mess on the back of your head from the friction against the cold door behind you, “i just want you in me so bad. please jay,” 

jay’s voice comes out in a growl, “fuck,” he takes his hand away from your pussy, ignoring the way you whimper out at the loss of his touch, “you drive me fucking crazy, y/n.” his hands grab your shoulders, moving you around to push you down on the bed. he’s quick to crawl on top of you, hovering over you with your dress still pulled up over your hips, your panties now having a wet stain on them from your juices. he groans at the sight, “you wear this short dress, stare at me with those doe eyes of yours from across the room— and then act surprised when i pull you in here?” jay hurriedly moves down your body with his lips, kissing the exposed skin of your neck, chest, arms and thighs. 

you try to defend yourself, but your voice is airy from the anticipation, “i, i didn’t think you’d fuck me here.” 

jay shakes his head, “you should’ve known that i can’t resist you, y/n… how can i resist my own personal slut?” 

you moan at the name, loving the way that he truly degrades you. the way it makes you feel powerful. like you have some control over him that no one else does. that you really make it hard for him to think of anything else. that you’re better than anyone else. 

“fuck, ok i can’t wait anymore— take off your panties for me,” jay nods at you, standing up and zipping down his jeans. 

you react quickly, lifting your hips off the bed to take off your underwear, flinging them on the floor. you keep your eyes on jay, his cock now being revealed as he pulls it out of his jeans. he’s already hard and dripping precum. you can tell that he must’ve been hard for a while, that your dress and your eye contact from across the room must’ve really turned him on. that he was telling the truth about him not being able to resist you. 

jay pushes you back down to the bed, his hands grab your thighs to force them open. he stays standing, his feet on the floor as he moves to align his cock with your dripping pussy. he’s being so rough with you, you both know that you trust him to make you feel good. that he knows what you like. 

“just be quiet— you don’t want ruby to hear, right?” jay grunts at you, staring right into your eyes as he glides his cock up and down your slick folds, gathering your sticky juices all over his dick. 

“right, right,” 

with that, jay slides his cock into you, not stopping until his cock hits your cervix. when he bottoms out he stays still for a moment, letting both of you adjust to his size. jay leans over your body, kissing you softly, gently. he pulls away after a minute, watching you flutter your eyes open to look at him again. he presses a kiss onto your forehead once before he stands up straight again. 

jay makes sure he has a tight grip on your legs, holding them up before he starts to pull out of you, so slowly. both of you moan at the feeling of your wet pussy allowing his cock to slide so easily in and out of you. he pulls all the way out so just the very, very tip of his cock is still inside of you, before he slams back inside of you. 

the harsh movement makes you cry out, shocking you from the surprise and the pleasure. 

“shh, baby— ruby’s right next door.” 

you cover your own mouth, trying to silence yourself as jay starts at a quick pace. jay’s hips move in a way that he’s sure makes his cock rub against your gspot. he hovers over you as he keeps your legs in the air. only his hips move as he fucks into you. his pants are just pooled at his ankles, both of you too desperate to get naked. both of you just need to feel each other, even with his ex girlfriend in the room right beside you. 

 “oh fuck, baby,” jay groans out, his eyes staring right at you as you keep your hand covering your mouth. your hand is successfully muting your moans, keeping your cover incase ruby or one of her friends overhears. you know this is wrong, fucking her ex boyfriend whilst she’s drunk next door. but it feels too good to stop. “is this what you wanted? wanted my cock soaked from your pussy?” 

“y-yes, fuck yes.” you answer as quietly as possible, a moan threatens to escape your lips but your hand covers your mouth just in time to silence it. 

even though you have to be quiet, and you and jay both know that you can’t control your moans too well, jay keeps talking to you, grunting out quietly in this random bedroom. “do you feel me in your tummy, baby? feel how fucking deep i am?” 

you nod against the mattress, your eyebrows furrowed together as jay fucks you deeper and deeper. his cock was so long and so hard. you could feel it in the bottom of your stomach every time he slid back in. it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. the way your pussy takes him in so deep, clamping around it like it wants him to stay inside forever. 

your pussy keeps tightening around jay, his own pleasure making him lose control. jay suddenly moves so your knees are pinned to the bed, caging your head in with your legs. he’s bent you into a ball, your pussy squeezed together by your legs, making it feel even tighter for him. you keep your eyes on jay, no where else to look since your legs are beside your head. 

with the new position jay fucks deeper inside of you at a steady pace. he makes sure his cock slides all the way into your pussy before he slides back out. he wants his entire cock coated in your juices. he just loves how wet you get for him. he can already see your juices dripping out of your pussy. everytime he pulls almost all the way out of you, more of your juices dribble around your lips, spreading against your inner thighs. 

jay’s grip on the back of your knees stays firm as he focuses on fucking you. both of you hear your moans against your palm— your palm moist from your saliva and sweat. you’re trying your hardest to stay as quiet as possible. but a part of you wishes that you could scream just as much as you wanted right now. because jay was fucking you so deep and it felt so fucking good. you’ve never been fucked from this angle before. like he’s genuinely drilling into you as he hovers above you. 

“f-fuck,” jay’s voice is growling, he’s never felt this good in his life. he’s getting pussy-drunk just from the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him. just imagining his cock inside of you gets his mind foggy enough to not be able to think straight. so, being able to pound into you like this, keeping you still against the mattress as he fucks you, is enough to get him wasted. “i fucking love your pussy— it’s like it’s made for me.” 

you nod at him, your body starting to feel like it’s on fire from your orgasm slowly building and building. jay leans closer to you, looking straight into your eyes as he demands, “say it— say your pussy is made for me, say that it’s mine.” 

you take your hand off your mouth, clutching the blanket underneath you for support as jay keeps slamming into you. “my pussy is yours, fuck it’s only yours— just for you, just please don’t stop.” 

jay grunts, loving how obedient you are for him. you’ll do anything he asks and it drives him wild. “fuck i won’t stop, baby— love the way you let me use this pussy, especially when ruby is right next door, fuck.” 

you whimper out, reminding yourself that you have to be quiet. you bite down hard on your lip and grip the blanket underneath you tighter. if jay’s cock didn’t feel so fucking good inside of you you’re sure that your body would be sore from the position he has forced you in. if his hands weren’t pinning your knees to bend and stay right on the mattress on either side of your head, you’re sure that you’d whine from the loss of blood to your feet. but his cock is addicting to you— and by the way he’s groaning out quietly nonstop, you’re sure your pussy is addicting to him. that he can’t resist you. that he wants you and only you. 

“i’m close, baby.” jay confesses, his eyes slanted as the pleasure builds within him. he takes one of his hands off your knees and moves so his thumb is pressed right onto your swollen clit. he starts to rough fast and hard circles on it. his thumb swishes against you at the same pace as his cock fucking deep inside of you. 

you moan out quietly, biting your lip harder as you stare at jay. he looks so hot above you. he’s so focused on making you feel good and wanting to cum that his eyebrows are pushed together. he keeps his jaw flexed and he grits his teeth. it’s hard for him to be quiet too. 

“can i cum inside of you, baby? please?” 

“yes, yes please, jay.” you answer so quickly, “please cum inside of me, i want it so bad.” 

“fuck, be quiet baby, unless you want ruby to hear you beg for my cum, is that what you want?” 

you whimper out in response, “n-no, just want your cum dripping out of me, so bad.” 

jay growls again, your words having a strong effect over him. “okay, okay— just cum on my cock for me then? can you do that? does it feel good like this?” 

you nod, “y-yes, just keep rubbing my clit like that, please.” 

jay does what you ask, keeping his thumb steady on your clit with your legs still in the air. his cock keeps sliding in and out of you over and over again. “cum on my cock, baby. wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.” 

with words send you over the edge, gripping onto his forearms to steady yourself as a huge wave of pleasure washes over you. your body spasms as your pussy clamps over his cock, the ball in your stomach snapping as you cum. jay moves quickly to cover your mouth with his hand, stopping you from screaming out. the orgasm that washes over you is powerful, the hardest you’ve ever cum before. your body feels like it's being electrocuted as you cum all over his cock. the entire time jay doesn’t stop from thrusting his cock in and out of you. 

“f-fuck baby, i- i’m cumming,” jay grunts out, and within seconds you can feel his warm cum coat your pussy. he fills you up right to the brim. he still doesn’t stop thrusting, making sure to cover you’re entire pussy with his cum. he fucks his cum into you, making sure to mark you. making sure to mark his pussy. 

jay doesn’t stop until you’re both panting and overstimulated. he keeps his cock lodged inside of you and finally drops your legs. your legs are limp and weak and fall right to the floor. jay leans over you, his own legs tired from standing over you this entire time. your chests are panting together, covered by clothes but you’re both sweaty and tired from cumming so fucking hard. 

jay slowly pulls out, both of you watching as his cum drips out of you, making even more of mess of your abused pussy. 

“fuck,” jay grunts out, “that’s so hot.” you whimper in agreement. jay leans over so his lips are almost against yours, “you’re such a slut for me, i love it.” you smile as he kisses you again. your mind feels foggy from the orgasm and the alcohol. jay pulls away and bends down to pull up his pants, button them again so he’s fully dressed. he sees your panties on the floor and picks them up, smirking as he touches the fabric. 

“hey, give me those,” you giggle at him, sitting up on your elbows to try to grab them from his hands. jay only bites his lip, glancing between your pussy, soaked in his cum and your panties. “jay?” 

“are you just gonna put these on? with my cum still in you?” 

you gulp, the thought relighting a fire in you at the thought. you, walking around the party with jay’s cum dripping out of you. talking with ruby while her ex’s cum coats your entire inner thighs. 

“give me them,” you repeat and stand up, easily taking them from jay. he watches you intently, curious about what you’re going to do. you bend down, stepping in your panties and sliding them back over your waist before pulling down your dress again. 

“fuck,” jay says breathlessly, staring at your hips, knowing his cum is there. knowing that if anyone saw it, they’d wonder whose it was. knowing that you have been marked by someone— by him. 

you laugh at his reaction, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him for another kiss. 

“i’ll see you, later?” jay looks down at you, his eyes beaming happily. 

“of course,” 

jay kisses your nose once more, before he opens the door and looks down the hall, making sure no one was around before he smiles at you once, closing the door after him so you’re left alone in the bedroom. you look back at the bed, seeing that it’s a complete mess now from your squirming against it. you glance in the mirror briefly, patting down the back of your hair, wiping the fallen mascara under your eyes from the tears of your orgasm. 

when you’re ready, and when you think it’s been long enough for people to not assume you and jay were in here together, you open the bedroom door and step into the hall. you first look at the bathroom right beside you. the door is completely closed now, but you can see that the light is still on it, the light shining through the cracks around the door frame. 

you take a deep breath, glad that ruby wasn’t standing right there. 

just as you think ruby went downstairs again, or maybe even left from throwing up, the bathroom door opens and ruby steps out. her hair is a mess and you can tell she had just been sick. 

“oh, y/n, thank god,” ruby says, letting out a long sigh, “i was so worried, i know you don’t drink a lot so i thought you had gotten lost!” 

“you were worried, about me?” you repeat, trying to understand. 

“well yeah, one second you were there and the next you weren’t! i didn’t know what had happened to you! chaeryeong and dana went looking for you!” 

“oh,” you can’t help but look taken aback, “i was just downstairs, i got lost in the crowd, you know.” 

ruby pouts, “aw, i’m sorry! i threw up,” 

you pretend like this is news to you, a false look of concern on your face, “oh no, are you okay?” 

ruby shrugs, “i guess, i think i shouldn’t drink for a while.” 

you try to not roll your eyes at her. you’ve heard this exact sentence from her a million times before. 

“maybe you’re right. should we get you home then?” 

ruby smiles and links her elbow with yours, “yeah that sounds good, do you wanna make ramen when we get home? i’m so craving it right now,” 

you laugh at her, “what? you just threw up!” 

ruby shrugs, “so? it tastes good,” 

“whatever, but if you throw it up, don’t complain to me about it.” 

ruby boops your nose with her finger, “never.” 

on the way out of the house, you meet eyes with jay who’s sitting on one of the couches. you give each other a look that no one else would understand. no one knows what secret you’ve been keeping together. or that his cum is currently dripping down your leg. 

ruby pulls you out of the house before you can stare too long at jay, or trip over the crumpled carpet from not paying attention. and even though ruby doesn’t stop talking to the uber driver the entire time home, you don’t listen to a word she says, you don’t think the uber driver listens either. 

the feeling of jay’s cum drying to your inner thighs and pussy has you squirming in your seat. it had a thrill of excitement and risk swelling in your body. you’re glad ruby was still drunk or else she would’ve noticed your demeanor. 

even though it’s only been less than an hour since your hook up with jay, you can’t stop repeating it over and over in your head. he was the perfect mix of rough and gentle. the way his lips feel on yours still tingles on yours. you drag your finger over your bottom lip, drawn to the feeling. 

 jay’s proposal of seeing you later runs through your mind. he actually wants to see you again. the way he was so eager and desperate to fuck you tonight has you spiraling. the way he called your pussy his. like, he actually wants you to be his. 

it’s a dangerous thought that’s grows in your mind, but you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, jay wants exactly what you want. 

since the party, you’ve not only wanted more of jay’s touch, but you’ve craved more of the feeling that you get when you’re with him. the feeling like you can do anything you want now that you know who you truly are. that you’re not meant to be someone else’s shadow— you’re meant to be the light that causes a shadow.  

you used to pray for the construction workers to speed up the work they were doing on the roof of your apartment building, but if their slow work meant more opportunities for jay to slip his hand underneath your skirt in the back of the library, then you hope they take months. 

though jay’s fingers fucking in and out of you made it hard for you to focus on how micro organisms affect how diseases spread in the human body, you didn’t mind since it got jay close to you. it got you to realize that you can do something that doesn’t fit the “good girl” persona ruby has forced onto you. that you can make your own decisions. 

you spent more nights at his apartment, which let you sleep in longer since there was no power tools to wake you up. it let you and jay explore each others’ bodies more. it let jay be able to find your gspot perfectly every single time he entered you. he got you to come undone faster and faster every single time. you got to familiarize yourself with each and every vein that protruded off his hard cock. you know which parts of your tongue he likes to feel most wrapped around the tip of his cock as you suck him dry. 

it let you and jay have more lazy morning sex before you both had to get up for class— even if that lazy morning sex was disrupted by his friends banging on his front door. the rush of adrenaline that you got as you snuck out of his apartment half naked with his bite marks on your chest and thighs as he distracted his friends with something in the kitchen.

the craving for the feeling and the physical pleasure jay gives you got you to text him in the middle of class telling him you need to feel his warm cum drip down your pussy in the back of his car in twenty minutes or else you will explode, with ruby right beside you. the feeling of finding yourself and sex was available whenever and wherever you wanted was addicting and possible if you kept it a secret. 

at first, the high jay was able to give you felt like this all was the right thing to do to break out of the shell ruby has tricked you into. that doing something so out of question for you would help you grow as a person. but everytime jay pulls out of you and you walk home with your panties still left on jay’s bedroom floor, that achy craving feeling of the loss of that high gets more detrimental and inevitable. 

when you have jay’s full attention, it feels like you can do anything, like you’re the centre of the world. the things he tells you and whispers in your ear just before he makes you cum for the one hundredth time. it makes you feel like you have everything you ever wanted— that you have jay. 

but the truth is that you don’t have jay, not the one you want anyways. 

you don’t want to sneak around with him, only being able to feel like this true self of yours when you’re alone with him. you want to be able to hold hands with him down the hallways at school, to dance with him at parties and hang out with his friends. stuff that he used to do with ruby. 

you don’t want to stop what you have with jay, it feels too good when you’re with him, but it feels so bad when you’re not. you used to be able to enjoy being alone, you almost preferred it sometimes. but now it feels like the world is about to crash down when you’re left with yourself. like you don’t know who you are when you’re not in some secret world with jay that you and him have built. 

at first this used to feel empowering, but now it feels like you’re pretending. that when you’re with jay you have to put on this persona that you’ve created just for him to be able to stand being around you. that without this persona jay wouldn’t touch you. yet, the pleasure you feel is so real, but the pain you feel is raw and visceral.

the secret you keep with jay can only help you grow as a person so much. it’s like you’ve outgrown this secret, but you crave more with jay. you want it to feel as raw and visceral with jay as does the pain you feel when you’re alone. you don’t want to become someone else in order to keep him, you want him to want you, not the version he thinks is the real you. 

the secret can keep you alive for so long before it starts to rot inside of you until you can’t keep it hidden any longer.

you’ve never been the one to go out drinking alone. even when you’re with ruby you barely drink. maybe because you’re always her babysitter since she can never pace herself properly. 

but tonight you’re tired of only being able to feel like some greater version of yourself when you’re with jay. and you’re tired of being in ruby’s shadow when you’re with her. you feel so many emotions at once and you’re just trying to figure out who you are and who likes you for the real you. 

it took you a fourth shot for you to be able to start dancing at the bar downtown that you and ruby have gone to a few times before. the music started to sound better and your cheeks started to burn from the alcohol in your system. 

a few girls started dancing with you, they were introducing themselves to you but you can’t remember their names. they told you to start drinking some mango cocktail that they were also having, which tasted so good you didn’t know how much vodka they were mixing in each one. 

by the time your little drinking group had decided to head home, it was already 2am and you were wasted, but you didn’t want to go home just yet. without thinking for long, you type in jay’s address and order an uber to his apartment. you tried texting him that you’re coming over but you couldn’t find his name in your text messages. 

when you get to his apartment and knock on his door you’re holding yourself up by leaning on the doorframe until he opens the door, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. he was shirtless and in those damn grey sweatpants that drove you crazy. even with his hair a mess you still wanted him. 

“y/n?” jay grumbles, his voice hoarse from being woken up so abruptly in the middle of the night. “what’re you doing here?” 

you pout at him, walking past him into his apartment that you’ve been at countless times before, “i want you, duh!” jay shuts the door as he turns around to face you. it’s so obvious that you’re wasted. your speech is slurred and eyes are glazed over, plus you smell like you’ve been at the bar for as many hours as you were. before jay can process what you want, you’re reaching up and wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pushing your lips onto his, something that you’ve done so many times before. 

“w-wait,” jay puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back down onto your flat feet, pushing you off of him. “you’re drunk.” 

you give him a dismissive snort, “i’m not that drunk.” 

jay stares back at you unimpressed and not believing a word you say, “we’re not gonna fuck right now, y/n.” 

you pout again, crossing your arms over your chest like a child as you stare up at him, “why not? you don’t want me anymore?” 

jay puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to turn you around to walk you into his bedroom, “c’mon, lets lay down and sleep.” 

“no!” you dig your heels into the floor, stopping him from taking you anymore. you turn to face him again, your face still pulled into a pout. “i want you. you don’t want me?” 

“not when you’re drunk like this, baby, c’mon, let’s sleep.” 

you can’t help but groan in frustration, pushing his arms off of your shoulders, taking a step back so he can’t persuade you to sleep with his touch. 

“i thought you knew me, jay!” your voice rises, mainly due the alcohol in your system but also from the built up frustration and confusion you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. “i thought you knew the real me, but i guess you don’t. no ever does.” 

“y/n, please,” jay pleads, so obviously not wanting to deal with this right now, but his dismissal of you only fuels your anger more. “it’s not like that and you know it. let’s talk about it in the morning.” 

“ugh,” you groan and step around him so you’re closer to the front door and further from his bedroom. “you always say ‘let’s talk later’ or ‘don’t over think this’. but, i can’t do that anymore. you don’t want me in public so we’ve been sneaking around for months. and now what? you don’t want me in private?”

“well what do you want me to, y/n?” jay finally snaps, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you, “you’re my ex’s best friend! i don’t know what to do! what—” 

“then figure it out!” you cut him off, your narrowed eyes matching his, “figure out what you want! do you want me, or not? because i’m tired of secrets, sneaking around and pretending to be someone i’m not!”

jay’s face contorts into one that looks taken aback by your outburst. like he was never expecting this from you. which only proves to you that he doesn’t know you. he doesn’t know what you’re actually capable of. and maybe it’s time you figure out what you’re capable of on your own, without jay and the way he makes you feel. 

before he can say anything else you turn and storm out of his apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind you. you just rush outside into the cool night air, thankful to be alone on the street as you kneel down onto the sidewalk, letting out confused tears that you’ve been holding onto for months. 

you wanted to be seen, but instead you’ve become so hidden that you don’t even know who you are anymore.

it’s been a week since you’ve seen either jay or ruby. 

you told ruby you’re suffering from a horrible, disgusting flu all week which made her stay far away from you and ask no further questions about your absence from school. there’s a big football game coming up so she needs to be in perfect shape for cheerleading and obviously can’t risk getting sick. 

however, you’ve been radio silent from jay all week. the first few days after you had stormed out of his apartment as a drunk mess and told him to figure himself out, you were checking your phone every five minutes for a text from him. but a text never came. 

you debated just giving in and calling him and apologizing for being a disaster, but you couldn’t force yourself to be so pathetic. you had left the ball in his court. jay was the one who had to come up with a solution to fix whatever this was you had going on with each other. 

but with his current track record of ignoring ruby for weeks now, you figured you better give him some time before you completely give up on him, if he was even gonna answer you at all. 

ruby texted you earlier that she’s gonna bring over some soup for you since you’re feeling a bit better after your “week long flu”, so you were laying on your couch waiting for her. maybe she’d stay awhile once she saw you in perfectly good health. 

there was a knock on your door and you waited a second for ruby to burst in afterwards like she always does. but the door remains closed until another knock. you push yourself off your couch, wondering who could be at your door if it wasn’t ruby. 

when you pulled open the door, you froze. 

jay was standing there with a sheepish smile on his face. like he had known he wasn’t the one you’d be expecting at your door. 

“hi, y/n.” 

“jay, you can’t be here. ruby’s coming over.” you whispered harshly at him, glancing down the hallway in case she was near. 

“i’ll make it quick.” jay pushes, and steps into your apartment. you grapple for words as you glance one more time down the hallway before closing your door and locking it. 

“jay, seriously, she might see you leave here!” 

jay shrugs, keeping his position as he stands in front of you. you can tell he doesn’t care if she sees or hears or even smells him. but you can’t say the same. it has you biting your lip with anxiety as you stand in the middle of your front door and jay. 

“i’ve been thinking about what you said.” jay starts, his tone serious and eyes softening. “about all the secrets and sneaking around that we’ve been doing. and that you feel like you’ve been pretending to be someone.” he steps closer so he’s only inches away from you now, “i feel like that’s my fault. i’m sorry if i made you feel like you had to be someone else around me, i didn’t mean to make you feel like that.” 

you hold your ground even though you want to collapse into his arms and tell him that you’ve missed him all week. that you wished he would’ve just told you this sooner. but you keep your gaze hardened as you look up at him. “then what did you mean to do?” 

jay reaches down for your hands, playing with your ring like he always does. you feel yourself almost give into his touch, but you pull your hand away. jay needs to speak for once. you’re tired of trying to decode all his actions to try to find out what he means. you want him to say it. like a man. 

he looks taken aback a bit when you pull away from him. but he knows what you want. it’s just up to him if he can give that to you. 

jay sighs, “you were right. i have to figure out what i want.” he keeps his eyes on you, soft and genuine. he takes your hands in his and this time you let him, not breaking eye contact with him. “i missed you, and i’m sorry for confusing you— but i do know you, y/n. i do.” 

you feel your breathing pick up pace slightly and gently as jay leans in closer to you slowly, like he’s making sure you’re okay with this. when you don’t pull away from him he lets his lips meet yours for the first time in a week. the kiss is slow and sure and almost selfish. 

but you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into his lips once again. 

jay pulls away first, his eyes seeming genuine as he looks down at you, scanning your face like he’s missed looking at your features all week. 

“i am sorry, y/n.” 

you nod in understanding, letting yourself smile. he smiles at your quiet response, his hand cupping your jaw so his thumb brushes against your lips swiftly. 

“okay, i’ll go.” 

you wrap your arms around yourself instinctively, letting him walk past you to the door. he opens it and stands in the doorframe for a second, glancing back at you like there’s more he wants to say. he opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, his gaze shifting to the floor before looking back up at you. “don’t overthink too much, okay? you always do that.” 

you nod once more to him before he closes the front door after him, leaving you alone in your apartment. 

you don’t get a chance to take in the faint sizzle on your lips that jay had left— your ring still twisted on your finger from his anxious fiddling as he spoke before there’s a knock on your door again. when the door is pushed open automatically you aren’t surprised to see ruby, but you wish she had given you another minute to pull yourself together after seeing jay. 

“they didn’t have chicken noodle,” ruby pouts, “but they had tomato!” she holds up a plastic bag with an overenthusiastic smile. 

“perfect, i love warm ketchup.” 

ever since ruby came over and watched the rerun episode of love island with you, she’s been obsessed with the new season coming out tonight. so you picked up some chips and candy to watch the season premiere with ruby at her apartment. 

you looked forward to sinking into the couch with your best friend, watching shitty romance reality tv like nothing had ever changed between you two. like you haven’t been hooking up with jay for months now. you needed some normalcy in your life, especially now that jay had apologized to you. it felt like a new start for both of you. 

“ruby!” you call out as you open her apartment door, “i got you sour patch kids! the ones with gross watermelon that you lik—” you stop mid-sentence as you look up from the plastic bag you were carrying, almost dropping said bag when you see who’s sitting on the couch. 

“y/n!” ruby greets you excitedly, stepping out from the kitchen grinning from ear to ear. she was glowing almost. like the grey storm cloud that was overhead had finally dissipated. “look who’s here!” 

you take a second glance at the couch, wondering if you had mistaken the person for him. but when your eyes met his, you knew there was no mistake. 

he was sitting on ruby’s couch. in the exact same spot he use to sit in months ago, his arm thrown over the back of the couch as he smiled sheepishly at you. 

“jay?” you finally speak, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“yeah!” ruby nods with a little jump, “can you believe he’s here?” 

you’re unable to speak as you look between ruby and jay, trying to understand what is going on. ruby’s laughter breaks you out of your trance. she turns to jay, “she’s more shocked than i was!” you hear jay laugh but you don’t look at him. you’re too busy realizing that ruby is back to her same old self, like a ray of sunshine that can’t stop smiling. you haven’t seen her this gleeful in months. 

“oh! and y/n,” ruby comes up to you, grabbing your shoulders with her hands, “look!” she shoves one of her hands in your face and it’s impossible to miss what she’s showing you. “we’re engaged!” 

the clear diamond sat right in the middle of a silver band slid right onto ruby’s ring finger. 

“w-what?” your eyes scan quickly between ruby and jay. you unconsciously take a step back, heading back into the apartment’s door frame, like your mind and body are fighting if you should stay or run away. 

“isn’t it amazing!”! ruby beams, her face contorted into a huge smile as she stares at the ring on her hand, “and it’s all thanks to you!” 

“thanks… to me?” 

“yeah! jay told me that you talked some sense into him,” 

your focus is back on jay who is now standing up from his spot on the couch, walking over to stand next to ruby. 

“yeah, i told her how you told me to figure out what i want.” jay’s smile is tight lipped as he glances between you and ruby. “and this is what i want.” he wraps his arm around ruby’s waist, where it’s been so many times before. it’s safe and comfortable and easy. “i want to settle down and not hide my feelings.” 

ruby smiles at jay in a way that makes your stomach turn. jay kisses her on the cheek and he whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle before he turns back to you, “and i couldn’t have realized that without you, y/n. thank you for being such a good friend.” 

friend.

“right, thank you for always being there for me, y/n. you really held me together these past few months,” she elbows jay in the side playfully. “and now you’ll help me plan this wedding right!” ruby comes up to you, grabbing your hands in hers as she jumps up and down. 

you’re in too much shock to respond properly, your gaze continually flicking back and forth between both of them, trying to recognize either of the people standing in front of you. “y/n?” ruby’s voice says your name mixed with concern. “are you okay?” “um,” you step back into the hallway, away from ruby’s touch. she pouts as you force her to drop your hands, “i’m just, not feeling well. i think i’ll go home and watch love island from there, if that’s ok.” 

“oh,” ruby’s face remains in a pout, “okay, you were just starting to feel better again, too.” 

“yeah, yeah— um, i’m so happy for you, but i have to go, okay?” you drop the plastic bag of snacks on the floor beside your feet, not being able to hold them anymore with the way your body starts to feel numb. 

“okay?” 

“see ya, y/n.” jay calls from over ruby’s shoulder, but you don’t look at him as you turn and make a beeline straight to the apartment building’s stairs, not even bothering to wait for the elevator. 

you rush down the flights of the stairs, tears brimming your eyes the entire way down. your hands are trembling as you hold onto the stair railing. the exit door feels like a sanctuary as you reach it and push it open— feeling the cool air on your skin. the door hits the wall behind it as you push it open with far too much strength. 

you’re panting as you stand still, jay’s face and ruby’s ring still imprinted in your mind, replaying over and over again. 

a sudden drop of water landing on your cheek has you glancing upwards to the sky. the sun was covered by a dark grey cloud, the rain just starting to patter down now. the pavement slowly turns darker as the rain picks up as you stand there, your jaw dropped as you feel like it must be some cruel prank.  

friend. 

the word sounds foreign in your mind coming from jay’s lips. were you guys even friends in the first place? or were you always just ruby’s boyfriend and best friend? 

it felt like you guys had gone from strangers to lovers to strangers who know everything about each other. like the way his tongue felt against your neck. the way he’d wash his body first and then his hair in shower. he knew your secrets— you shared the biggest one. 

the worst part that was beating at your hear the most was how you believed everything he said. you thought he saw you and knew the real you and not the version that ruby and everyone else thought you were. you thought he’d help you grow into the version of a woman that he knew you could be, even if you didn’t. even if you didn’t like that version. 

jay messed with your mind. and for what? 

to get back at ruby? 

just in the end for him to go back to her? to go back to the easiest version of love that he could, where there were no risks? just familiarity. 

you don’t take another step before you collapse onto your knees on the wet pavement, the rain splattering around, soaking your hair and clothes, mixing with your tears. you wanted to scream loud enough to erase everything that had happened in the past few months— all the agony and secrets and pleasure.

you yearned for the past version of yourself that you knew. the version that didn’t hate being alone. that didn’t need jay’s attention to feel like she was worth something. that didn’t feel like she was self sabotaging herself by allowing herself to be put into her best friend’s shadow. 

your sight is blurry from your tears and the rain as you stare down at your hands when you realize: you have no idea who you are. 

if you aren’t ruby’s good girl best friend and you’re not the carefree girl that jay chooses— then who are you? especially now that you’re alone. 

it’s just you, curled on the pavement in the pouring rain as the grey cloud hovers above you, taking away the last bit of your sunshine. the loud rain helps you think and realize that you never want to feel like this again. 

you stand slowly, clothes wet and sticking to you. there’s no one around, no one to come after you or ask if you’re okay. but maybe that’s what you need. you don’t need anyone else in order to fulfill your identity. 

so you walk away from all the versions of yourself that are tied up in that apartment that were never truly yours and you don’t look back. you don’t want to go back. ever. 

@ taeghi, 2025. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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@heeseungissm  @jxkiee @firstclassjaylee 

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@norihoyeon @cirsle19  @ni-kicism 

@17ericas  @minaateez  @ja3yunslvr 

[yuriririnnie]

This was so fucking good I cried. I seriously cried. I need a moment for it all to sink in.

No words can express my appreciation, and no words will ever do justice to describe this masterpiece. It’s just, so good, too good. Thank you.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Our Seashell Promises

Leave your vows… I’ll carry the ones you meant to say

synopsis: On the sun-drenched yacht, the newlyweds are on their honeymoon that’s anything but picture-perfect. Bound by family expectations and in silent frustrations, Y/N clings to her camera as a lifeline while her distant husband retreats further into his work. Until through her lens, she captures a candid moment of the yacht’s Captain...

word count: 15.8k

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, no smut, a lot of angst, toxic relationships / marriage (not between y/n and hee tho), a lot of touching and kissing, skinship

genres: rom-com (?), slow burn, mutual pining

pairing: captain!enhypen Heeseung x reader

a/n: AHHH ITS FINALLY HERE. i had this idea during winter, so i waited until summer if youre the type of reader to listen to music while reading, i suggest that you listen to lana del rey’s album “norman fucking rockwell!”. That album help and inspired me a lot during the long writing process 

Taglist: @heestoleurgirl @stariekis @jaehoodies @morganaawriterr @luvashli@kireistrawberryjayla @annovaz @bambieheeseunglee @firstclassjaylee @flowerwinds @veilstqr @hoonslvr @cunty4hee @hazelira @sumsumtingz @bxcndd @sunnygirl-kait @amazzwon @hoonieyun @yeokii (comment if you want me to add / remove you from the list <3)

⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯⌯

The morning Marseille summer sun was shining down on us with seagulls cawing. We stood in line with our luggage to board the yacht, the one that my parents insisted we spend our honeymoon in. The wind blew a soft salty breeze, making me glance at my now husband, Jae. 

“Can I see the tickets?” he asked, not looking up from his phone.

I hummed as a response, handing them over to him, without saying anything. He always was colder than most men, quieter than most men. But now, especially after the wedding, he’s like a block of ice. He has been glued to his phone, either typing, reading or on a call; always saying ‘it’s work’. It’s always work with him.

A part of me doesn’t push for any more answers, because it’s the same part of me that sees me as smaller than him. Jae being a lawyer and ambitious to the bone is exactly what my parents always wanted me to be. Yet, I broke their dream, making me feel like I dont have much say in whatever ‘work’ he’s doing.

Our relationship was a neat courtship my family practically orchestrated, especially after I refused to go to law school. If I don't want to go to law school and take over my father’s law firm, then my husband will. For them, it was a perfect plan: a year of dating, graduation, and then a wedding that was rushed by encouragement and subtle threats from my mother. 

Now we're honeymooners, supposedly, with a trip across the Mediterranean. All paid by my parents; it’s either a grand gesture or a bribe. I can’t tell anymore. It gives me a headache each time I try to understand and anticipate their hidden schemes. I don’t even want to think about it, not right now. 

Not when the gorgeous sea stretched across from me. My fingers wrap around my camera that’s strapped to my neck, itching to capture new photos. To capture the blues of the sea, the sharp contrast of sails against the sky, the worn wood of the dock. 

Eventually, the queue started moving. As we were walking up the small stairs that led to the yacht, I was looking around, trying to find the fastest way that could lead me to the outer deck. 

Once we were all on board and waiting for more instructions, I didn't want to waste any more time and turned to Jae, “I need to use the bathroom,” I mumbled an excuse before slipping away. It didn't matter what I said, it all fell to deaf ears anyways. 

A buzz of excitement was rushing through me as I wandered the maze of the yacht’s corridors. It then occurred to me how the yacht seems much larger from the inside. Regardless, it was strangely silent for it’s size. 

Eventually I found it, a wide doorway with a heavy door that led to the outer deck. A much more expansive view of the sea and the scent of salt hit me. The water sparked under the sun, soft waves could be heard with the seagulls, just much closer now. I took the opportunity immediately, pulling my camera to my face and started snapping pictures. 

As I was turning around and taking pictures, my lens landed on someone. I idiotically froze, examining him from my camera. He was completely drenched, wearing nothing but swimming shorts that were hanging low on his narrow hips. His hair was pushed back with some of it sticking to his forehead in lazy waves, droplets of seawater dropping from his face and chest. He was standing above me, adjusting something on the mast.

My camera shutter clicked before I could control my finger on it, or before I could even think. The sound made him glance down, making us lock eyes. Great, not even five minutes on deck and I’m already the creep with a zoom lens. He was clearly amused, a smile on his face and a raised, questioning brow, waiting for an explanation. 

“I’m so sorry — I didn't mean to — I was taking pictures of the sea and —” I stammered, trying to clear my bruised image. He started laughing, “It’s okay,” he called down, eyes twinkling. “If I’d known there was a photo shoot happening, I would’ve struck a better pose.” he teased, getting down.

Heat crept up my cheeks as I let out a shy chuckle out of embarrassment. Now he's much closer, “Name’s Heeseung,” he introduced himself, sticking out his hand, with the corners of his mouth still curved in the same playful smile. I hesitated for a beat, trying not to stare — trying being the key word — any lower than his face. I reached out and shook his calloused and slightly damp hand. 

“Y/N,” I replied, returning his smile, though mine came with a side of flustered panic. The second he saw me smiling, his eyes softened, becoming warmer now. 

My own eyes went down, noticing that he was now holding my hand. I cleared my throat, “I need to get back, the Captain will come any minute now.” I said, pointing to the door I just passed through. He nodded in acknowledgement, “right, right. He sounds important. Better not make him wait.” he chuckled, making his grip on my hand much looser.

He gave me one last smile before returning back to the ropes he’d been fixing. I went back through the maze of hallways, cheeks still burning, heart rattling like my camera in my carry-on. 

By the time I found Jae again, he was still on his phone. Unbothered, of course. I sat next to him and started to gaze at him, in deep thought. The complete indifference is infuriating. I took a deep breath — probably out of annoyance — and looked down at my camera. 

Moments later, the rest of the passengers had gathered for the Captain’s welcome announcement. As the applause started, I pulled my eyes from my camera’s small screen to look at my surroundings. There he was: Heeseung, but dressed sharply now. A crisp pearly uniform of a Captain with golden stripes stitched on his sleeves and a hat tucked under his arm. 

The horror of my mistake started to dawn on me. That's definitely the same guy I accidentally photographed shirtless ten minutes ago. The fucking Captain of the yacht i will be on for months. 

He moved confidently, pausing at the front of the crowd with a practiced smile. He greeted us, voice calm, deep, a little too charming for someone who commands a floating hotel. Our eyes landed on each other again, for a beat too long. He gave me a tiny, knowing smile. Like he was trying not to laugh at some inside joke only the two of us knew: the accidental playboy bunny photoshoot joke.

He dipped his head in a little bow. The kind that was half-respectful, half... teasing? In a blind panic, I smiled and awkwardly waved back. 

I felt Jae’s eyes snapped at me, finally paying attention to me. However, it wasn’t affection — it was the kind of attention that prickled on my skin, cold and critical. He stayed silent, waiting until the announcement ended. When Heeseung said his final words, the yacht’s engines hummed beneath our feet, and we were off. 

As the crowd dispersed, Jae’s head turned slightly toward me, jaw clenched. “So, you know the Captain now?” he accused, not really a question.

“Huh? I ran into him earlier on the deck. He startled me. That’s all.” I said, confused by his switch of moods. His eyes were drawing daggers at me, but didn’t argue. He just turned away with our luggage, “I'm going to find our room.” he said, not even giving me a glance.

What the fuck is up his ass? I stayed planted where I was, letting the sea air try to cool the heat that's rising to my face, this time however it’s from frustration and not embarrassment. I hated how quickly he could make me feel small, guilty about every ‘misstep’, forcing me to defend myself for things I shouldn't need to defend myself for. What a good note to start our honeymoon with.

I stood up and went closer to the sea, near the railing, hoping to drown out all other sounds. The blues of the sky and water were so clear, they did not seem real. But with every passing minute the tilting became stronger, longer, slower. Soft waves rolled beneath my feet, it's like the yacht was inhaling and exhaling. 

Another deep lurch from the boat and suddenly, I felt like a human snow globe. My mouth went dry. My insides sloshed and my knees wobbled. I clutched the railing, my feet shifted to balance and my stomach responded with a gentle protest. 

Gripping my camera, I adjusted the lens and started snapping pictures, trying to shake it off. I took a deep breath and focused on the horizon. Surprisingly the nausea went down, the camera’s viewfinder anchored me somehow.

An amused voice from behind broke me out of my own little bubble, “Didn’t expect to see you this soon. Or this pale."

I turned — a little too fast — and found Heeseung with his hands on his suit pockets. The wind tugged at his hair to free it from the tight, neat hairstyle that he had 10 minutes ago in front of the passagers. 

The moment I was no longer looking into the camera, my stomach alarmed me again. “Oh god,” I whispered, holding my hand to my mouth, trying to fight the nausea again. 

He stepped closer, “you get seasick?” he asked, much gentler now. I nodded miserably, “apparently,” I said from behind my hand, afraid to empty out what I ate for breakfast. He huffed a laugh, carefully reaching out for my hand to softly press his thumb against my wrist. 

I gave him a look, “Unless you’re reading my palm to tell me I’m dying, what are you doing?” I asked, wary. My heart started, mortified at his closeness. I didn't know that my accidental boudoir, swimwear catalogue model would find me so quickly. 

He laughed full heartedly now, “My sister used to get seasick all the time when I brought her with me. Pressing the sea sickness pressure point helps.”

“You’re weird.” 

“Oh?” he tilted his head, amused that I’m arguing in this weak state of mine. “I can stop.” he jokingly threatened. I hesitated, it was actually working, “... keep pressing.”

He chuckled, putting a light hand on my shoulder, “Come on. I’ll make you some ginger tea.” he said reassuringly. I was becoming weaker because of the nausea and the embarrassment, making me just accept the idea of some tea.

He led me down a couple narrow hallways toward the galley, while the same creaking of the yacht continued beneath our feet in a steady rhythm. He was very familiar with the kitchen, putting stuff away to clear an area on the counter for me. 

I dizzily watched him putting on the kettle, “I swear, if this tea actually helps, I’m going to start suspecting you’re some kind of sea witch,” I said, plopping down on a stool near the counter, surrendering to the misery of nausea to swallow me whole. I closed my eyes, trying and failing to stop the movement.

He laughed while finding a clean mug for me, “Sea witch is a new one. I usually get a pirate.” With my closed eyes, I tried to imagine him as a pirate then as a sea witch, making me fall in a fit of laughter and him joining. 

Eventually the laughter died down and the kettle finished boiling. “I feel like I’ve been kidnapped and sentenced to a floating prison,” I muttered, watching him add the honey, the tea bag and then the water to the mug — each motion slow, deliberate. He moved like someone who wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere. Envy came through me, I was envious of that kind of ease. Compared to him, I was all sharp edges and a ball of nervous energy. Always bracing for the next comment, the next disappointment.

Two crewmates passing by overheard me, wearing similar uniforms to Heeseung but in navy and less golden stitched strips. “She’s not wrong,” one of them said, laughing. They started walking closer, seeing the one sided tea ceremony. “Oh, someone is seasick.” the other said, smiling. They were all clearly comfortable with each other, like a family.

“That reminds me, tell her about the time you threw up on the engine, Cap,” the other one added, smiling ear to ear. Without turning, Heeseung said calmly but with a warning tone, “Leave before I assign both of you dish duty for three days.” 

They vanished with snickers echoing behind them. Heeseung finally placed a mug in front of me, steam curled into the air. “Drink slowly,” he said, “no eye contact with the ocean.” I smiled and mumbled a ‘thank you’.

I took a careful sip, “do you do this for all your seasick guests?” I pushed, flattered by the pampering.

He leaned against the counter, watching me and mirroring my amusement, “Only the ones who call my boat a prison.”

“Correction,” I said, mock-serious, “a very charming prison. With surprisingly good customer service.” I said, backing up my case. He snorted, shaking his head. He watched me take a couple of more sips, seeing the color back to my face with a smile. I guess the tea actually worked.

-⚓︎-

When I pulled my head from under the pool water, my eyes immediately found Jae. Lounging on the nearby chairs, fully clothed with a laptop open. It's been a couple of days into the trip, and it seems like the more time that passes, the more he closes into himself. Slowly becoming colder and colder to me. 

I thought that rather than leaving him cooped up in our room, I could get us into the yacht’s pool. Maybe that could break the ice between us. But no, he found a chair with an umbrella and stayed far away from me. 

I observed him for a moment, the frown on my face grew as I watched his rapid tapping on the keyboard. He's genuinely so engulfed in whatever he's looking at, and not our honeymoon, not me. I silently swam to the edge of the pool and hauled myself out. 

I could see that he saw me walking towards me, even while he's wearing sunglasses, but he refused to acknowledge me. His lips tightened as I neared him. “Do you want a drink?” I asked, trying my hardest to put on a sweet voice. 

“I'm good,” he replied harshly. Dick, if you could call that a reply. If he could, he would've spat on my face. I huffed, took my small towel and camera from beside him and walked away. Another failed attempt to save this rushed, half-assed relationship.

I started drying my hair as I walked barefoot across the teak deck to get to the outdoor bar. I smiled back at the bartender and scanned the menu quickly, “I will get a mint lemonade, please.” I finally picked. I sat on a stool chair, placing my camera in front of me. I stared at my turned off camera, letting my mind wander somewhere else while the bartender rummaged around in front of me making my drink. 

What seemed like out of nowhere, Heeseung appeared next to me, cutting off my train of thoughts, “hey,” he greeted me, startling me a little. God, I was really in my mind today. He gave me that same easy smile before ordering a Coke. The bartender seemed flustered with Heeseung around. Her cheeks pink, nodding immediately at his words, her hands moving a little quicker, almost fumbling with the glassware. 

“Didn't expect to see you in the pool.” he said, sitting on the stool next to me. I chuckled dryly, “didn't expect to get ignored in it either.” He raised a questioning brow at me, I shrugged in response, almost in defeat. He turned his head ever so slightly to also find Jae, still on the chair and on that damn laptop. 

Silence settled between us as our drinks came. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, just loaded. After a beat, he nodded at my camera, “any new ones? Or are you giving the camera a vacation too?” 

I laughed, “not a chance, it's never on a break.” I said, pulling the camera to me and turning it on. He leaned in as I flipped through the photos I had on the memory card. He smelled like sun-bathed linen, clean and comforting. Our arms barely brushed against each other, his warmth much closer now, making my heart skip a beat.

My photos were very normal, at least in my eyes: shots of the sea at golden hour, a bird mid-flight, poolside shadows, drifting towels. Nevertheless, he was very intrigued, genuinely complimenting each one. 

My fingers froze when a certain photo popped up. It’s blurry, but unmistakable: it was Jae hunched over his phone, jaw tight. I wanted to skip it, but Heeseung’s finger gently tapped the screen before I could do anything, “your boyfriend?” he asked, more like recognizing him. 

“My husband.” I corrected, almost automatically. My eyes were glued to the camera’s little screen, but Heeseung's eyes scanned over to Jae again. Then it's like the puzzle pieces click together for Heeseung, “you're on your honeymoon?” he asked, softer now.

“Supposedly.” I whispered. He slowly nodded, didn't pry nor pity me, to which I'm grateful. 

“Don’t worry, I have seen worse honeymoons while sailing.” he comforted, lighting the mood. I snorted, half of me believes him, the other half doesn’t. I want to push my newlywed husband into the ocean water with his laptop, how much worse can it get?

-*-

Later that evening, when I finally got into our room, Jae proved to me just how much worse he can make it. He was tense from the moment I walked in, “Where have you been?” he asked, his voice low, accusatory, again. I frowned at his clearly stupid question. Where else would I be when we’re both stuck on a floating log in the middle of the ocean? 

I decided to keep that answer to myself to not make him angrier, I had enough of his bitching for today, “I don’t know… just checking out what they have on this yacht.” I responded, placing my carry on and camera on the small side table near the entry of the room.

“Dont fuck with me, Y/N. i know you were with him.” he started to raise his voice, getting closer to my face.

“Who are you talking about? I was just–” 

“Don’t lie to me.” he yelled and got closer to my face, knocking over that small table in the process. His frustration boils over, raw and wild as he was fishing through his pockets for something. My eyes were glued to my belongings on the floor, to my camera on the floor. 

My broken camera. The object that captured my world, now shattered and silent.

“I need a smoke,” he said before placing a cig between his lips, walking towards our room’s balcony. I sank to my knees, hands trembling as I started picking up the different pieces of my camera that were scattered across the broken glass of the lens. My eyes are glassy and unfocused from the tears, blurring the edges of everything I see. 

I stepped outside of our room, feeling too suffocated inside. I needed fresh air, and if all I'm getting is salty fresh air, so be it. The narrow yacht hallways are dimly lit but the atmosphere was tense, I felt tense. I stared for a moment at the ocean, it’s not as glimmerly when the sun was shining above it. In fact, I can barely see anything in front of me. 

With a heavy heart and a broken camera, I started aimlessly walking around the dock, between the quiet halls, looping back to familiar places multiple times. It was silent, not a soul in sight. Until I heard a hum of equipment above the hum of the yacht’s engine.

My eyes followed the buzz, landing on a well lit room, below the deck. The sound of tools being fiddled with was evident. This sounds exactly like a horror movie, but not a single bone in my body cares anymore. What is the point of this ‘trip’ without my camera? 

I approached the door frame, and I found him, but with his back turned to me and spare parts scattered around him like puzzle pieces. I raise my hand to knock on the door, not wanting to scare him at one in the morning. 

Heeseung looked behind him, frowning in confusion on who would be here at this hour. He smiled for a moment when he saw it was me, but then frowned again when he looked at my completely heartbroken, tear stained face. His eyes fall to my camera — more like pieces of plastic and metal — in my hands.

“What happened?” he asked, worry on his face, gesturing to me to come in. 

I paused for a moment, not wanting to tell him the truth, “I tripped and it fell from my hands,” I lied, showing him the chunks in my hands. 

He nodded without asking any further questions. “Alright, let me see what I can do.“ he said, taking the parts from me. The stark difference between Jae's yelling voice and Heeseung’s comforting reassurance made the tears spill out even more. “Don’t cry,” he cooed, his voice was gentle as he slowly pushed my hair that was stuck to my face. I feel pathetic, probably look the part too…

“Oh love, I promise it’s not worth crying over.” he whispered, taking me into his arms. I wrap my arms around his chest, silently crying into his shirt, letting his smell of sea breeze consume me. He was like a warm exhale from whatever nightmare I was living. 

-*-

It's been ten minutes since I have been sitting quietly next to him, watching him treat the camera as gently and as carefully as calloused hands can be. I anxiously stared back and forth between him and the camera. The echo tools clinking together echoed through the workshop. 

Finally, he sighed, running his hand through his hair, “I'm sorry, pretty. It's too far gone to be fixed.” I let my shoulders slump down in disappointment, “I guess I have to only rely on your ginger tea and that magic ‘pressure point’ trick thing.” I said flatly, trying not to sound too sulky.

He chuckled softly at that, giving me a small, sympathetic smile. “I told you, I'm certified,” he said in a fake-serious tone.

“Oh, wow. A certified sea witch. You really are something.” I mocked further, making both of us laugh. The silence that followed didn’t weigh heavy, but it was peaceful. He started to put away some of the tools he pulled out and I looked over at the only porthole, spotting the stars in the sky and trying to make out the different shapes.

“Did they ever teach you about constellation names when you were becoming a Captain?” I asked before thinking twice.

He followed my gaze through the small window, “of course they did. We went through serious, rigorous training,” he said with a firm voice, “that one is the ‘Dancing Noodle’, very rare. And that one is the ‘Pizza Slice’, my personal favorite.” he continued, talking as if he’s actually teaching me something new. 

I frown at the names, really letting them sink in for a moment. Then I blinked at him, “you're making those up.” I said, narrowing my eyes at him with a smile. He chuckled, “you believe me for a second there.”

We stayed like that for a while, side by side, our shoulders just barely touching as the made-up constellations drifted lazily above us. No pressure to talk, no weight in the quiet—just an easy, quiet kind of closeness that didn’t ask for anything more.

Without saying a word, he reached over to the broken camera pieces and started to put them in a small cotton bag. I slowly joined him, “next time I drop something, I hope it's Jae’s laptop.” I mumbled, laughing at my own joke. Heeseung let out a low whistle while chuckling, “make sure I'm nearby, i might actually help you pull it off.”

-⚓︎-

A few days slipped by in a blur of sunrises and restless nights. The yacht swayed in a slow, cradling rhythm, like it was trying to rock me to sleep, like it was begging me to sleep. The past few nights, sleep barely touched me — my mind kept dragging me through a maze of torturous memories, jumping from one thought to another, refusing to let me rest.

I sat on the edge of some stairs near the outer deck, staring out to the new sunrise that is marking a new day — wishing I could capture it on my camera. I could feel my heart beating in fury when I relive that moment with Jae. My fingers nervously twist at my wedding ring — out of habit now when I think of him, yet my eyes avoid looking at it. The ring was stunning, really. Nevertheless, it makes me tense up and shiver uncomfortably each time I glanced at it. 

I avoided our room as much as possible.Not out of fear of running into Jae, but because the memory of that night clung to the walls, too rough to face. All I seemed capable of was replaying our vows in my head, over and over, trying to hear some truth in them. As if listening hard enough might reveal some hidden truth I missed the first time. 

I should be asleep beside my husband right now. Instead, I’m lying here wide awake, trying to remember what exactly made me say ‘yes’.

Maybe it wasn’t about love — maybe it was about proving something. My mom smiled so wide at the wedding, like it meant everything had finally fallen into place. The wedding wasn’t anything like the one I’d pictured growing up. Maybe I said yes to Jae because I wanted to prove to my parents I could still be someone they’d be proud of. They already thought I gave up on my future when I didn't go to law school. What will they say when they find out this ‘perfect marriage’ is unraveling as well?

I inhaled deeply, and held that breath in my chest for a moment before pushing all these thoughts away. I allowed my feet to carry me forward, wandering aimlessly through the yacht’s quiet corridors, letting the hush of the sea fill the silence between my thoughts. 

Until I stumbled into a small kitchen nook tucked into the side of the yacht. The soft clatter of a knife against the cutting board greets me, a little louder than the quiet hum of the sea outside. Heeseung was already there — barefoot, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair still tousled from sleep. There’s a calm ease in the way he moves, like he belongs here, like the ocean is second nature to him. The morning golden light spills across his features. 

For a moment, I just stood there, watching him and his smooth chopping — unsure if it’s the sway of the yacht or the sight of him that makes my heart flutter.

“You have a staring problem,” he teased but not once looking up. 

I let out a breathy laugh, the humor catching me by surprise, a stark difference from the ruminating monologue that has been going off in my mind, “comes with being a photographer,” I said, trying to match his tone. 

He looked up from the strawberries he was chopping, his small smile was warm as always. “Are you hungry? I can whip something up — personalized, gourmet, five-star level,” he said playfully, but the offer was genuine. “I thought you just drove the boat,” I said, stepping closer to lean against the counter.

He chuckled, “tour guide, chef, mechanist… comes with being a Captain.” he said, holding up a strawberry near my lips. I opened my mouth and took it without thinking. My lips brushed his fingertips for the briefest moment, sending a quick, unexpected rush through my chest. As I chewed, the sweetness burst on my tongue — and so did the realization of how close we were. 

“You’d be surprised how many emergencies want to happen before 8 a.m.” he went on, like nothing had happened. So either meant he didn’t notice... or he was very, very good at pretending. Is an actor also on the list of required competence to be a Captain?

I gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Define emergency.”

With a grin, he leaned back slightly to get some other fruits from behind the counter, “once had a guest call the front desk at 5 a.m. screaming about a ‘hostile sea creature’ in her room.” I blinked, completely curious now. 

He snorted, remembering the story, “it turns out a poor fish had launched through her window right at the crack of dawn. She locked herself in the bathroom and asked me to ‘evacuate the beast’.”

I nearly choked on my strawberry. “Evacuate the beast?”

“Oh, she wanted me to bring the radio back up like it was a hostage situation.”

I was laughing now. Really laughing, the first time in days it didn’t feel forced. “And did you save the day?”

“Of course, Captain of the year.” he said, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. He then looked at me with that calm glint in his eyes, “so, in comparison, you're a dream guest.”

I chuckled, “A dream guest who spends her days sulking around your yacht.” I admitted, guilt dug deep in my chest for always being the Debbie downer. He shrugged, “You laugh at my jokes. That buys you at least three stars.” he said, disappearing behind the counter.

“Oh yeah? out of how many?” I challenged, leaning my elbow on the counter, chin in my palm. “For you?” He called from down below, “three stars out of three stars.” playfulness in his voice being evident. Something about the way he said it, so light and easy, made my heart dance and lifted the heaviness from my mind.

The shine of the dawn sun came through the big windows near us, the ray of light hitting my face and my wedding band that is still circling my finger. My smile faltered just slightly. Before I could get lost in it again, Heeseung reappeared and tapped the cutting board with his knife. “Come on, helper. If you’re staying in my kitchen, you’re getting a task.”

I snapped out of my daydreaming and gave him a mock salute. “Yes, chef. I mean Captain, I mean chef.” 

He rolled his eyes, laughing as he slid the cutting board my way. “Start with that before you get promoted to anything sharper.” he said before turning around to start something on the big stove.

I pondered on my ring for a minute. Without a word, I slipped it off my finger, the cool metal gilded against my skin. I tucked it into my pocket quietly, like I was setting down a weight no one else could see. 

As I picked up a strawberry and began slicing, the warmth of the sun settled on my skin, grounding me. The gentle rhythm of the waves, the clink of utensils, and Heeseung humming some unrecognizable tune filled the silence between us.

-*-

By late morning, after breakfast service rush winded down, the weather starts to turn. I stood outside, a little away from the other passengers. The skies dimed the sun to a moody gray, and the once-gentle sway of the yacht grows slightly more forceful. With the wave rolling much harsher, my stomach twists sharply, warning me. I blinked hard, trying to breathe through it, steadying myself against the railing. If that dick didn't break my camera…

That's when my phone buzzes in my pockets with my ring still in there. I delved in my jean shorts, scrabbling and trying to focus my vision to see who it is.

"Your father and I were watching the wedding videos again. I hope you're remembering to smile more in your photos. you looked tired in the last ones.” - "mom <3", delivered 10 sec ago

I stared at it, the words tilting something loose inside me. Something about it… the timing, the usual perfectionism wrapped in love. It shouldn’t sting, but it does. It all makes my throat tighten and burn even more. The nausea surges like a tide. Eventually, it all came out. The motion of the sea and the weight of everything on my chest finally tipping over. 

Then, footsteps.

Heeseung appears, calm but concerned. His brows furrowed as he spotted me hunched near the trash bin. Bless whoever designed this yacht for having a trash bin here. 

He doesn’t say anything. Just kneels quietly and sits besides me with hesitation. One hand gently sweeped my hair away from my face and the other one held a small towel to my mouth to clean up. “How hot do I look right now?” I muttered with a voice hoarse, trying to muster a bit of humor through the haze of nausea.

He gave a crooked smile — soft, endeared, “If this is you at your worst, then I’m in trouble.” he said, still dabbing gently away at my chin.

A fragile pause stretched between us, he sat next to me while I clutched my stomach. I swallow hard, having everything hit me like a brick wall. Then, as if a switch had flipped, My eyes let quiet, inevitable tears slip down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them away. They're not from sadness, but from exhaustion. I leaned into his shoulder, too tired to think twice about it. “I’m sorry…” my voice barely over a whisper.

He wraps an arm gently around me, and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Shhh,” he murmured, his voice steady and low. “There is nothing to be sorry about.”

-⚓︎-

The clock ticks somewhere, soft and distant. I finally sunk into the sheets of our bed, the feeling of loneliness hit me — though fatigue was stronger. Heeseung pushed me to go to sleep many hours ago… maybe twelve hours? Or was it ten? I can't remember how long I was outside. All i do remember is him walking me to the room, brushing my hair and putting me to bed.

The sheets were cold, and still looked untouched on the other side, Jae’s side. There was a trace of him through a faint smell of his cologne and his cigs that was clinging to his pillow.

I slowly sat up with my head pounding, syncing with my heartbeat that I could feel behind my forehead. The soft glow of his phone screen barely illuminates the dark room, the time stares back at me: 3:11 a.m. I could see Jae’s silhouette out on the balcony, the tiny flare of his cigarette being the second source of light.

My eyes burn from exhaustion that I can't quite sleep off. So I just roll over, hugging my pillow for warmth and deliberately avoiding his. Avoiding him. His smell was repulsing enough for me now. I could hear his phone buzzing, altering him for a notification. Every ding felt like a punishment, a reminder of how easily he could stay connected to the world — just not to me.

The days started to officially blur together, two weeks of mindlessly walking around the yacht, quietly watching the sunrises and sunsets alone, picking at meals, my only source of conversation being the bartenders and servers. I started feeling like a host more than a guest on this yacht. 

It was simple, really. I fell into a routine: during the day I'm alone on the deck, during the night I would pretend to sleep while he slips into the room late, smelling like salt and smoke. He’s like a stranger now — someone just passing through. 

“You don’t even try to lie anymore.” I said before I could stop myself. Though it was barely above a whisper, it barely left my lips. He lets out a tired breath, annoyed more than anything else, “don’t start, Y/N. Not now.” he said before a click of a door, disappearing again.

He made clear, time and time again, that he’d already emotionally checked out. It felt like a punch to the chest, which was funny. I felt the same and did the same, but it still hurts. Being forgotten by someone you didn’t even want to marry should’ve been easier. 

-*- 

One early morning, I found myself curled up on one of the lounge chairs, knees pulled to my chest, barely awake. A half-full cup of cold coffee rested in my hands. The ocean stretched endlessly ahead, quiet and soft in the pale light of dawn. It looked exactly the same as it had yesterday… and the day before. And yet, I stared like it might eventually show me something new. 

The yacht was docked near a quiet island. It was like a pause in the yacht’s slow route. The sea was clearer out here. Less churned up. Bluer, like it hadn’t been bothered in hours. It felt like the world had finally lowered its voice.

Footsteps padded softly across the deck, not rushed or hesitant. I didn’t have to look up to know it was Heeseung. He stopped beside me, “that coffee’s seen better hours,” he said softly. I turned my head and found him tilting his head a little, studying me. His hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, like he’d just come from a rinse or a swim, again. He wore a plain white T-shirt, a little too thin, already catching the breeze and clinging lightly to his skin.

“So have I,” I mumbled, giving him a small, tired smile. He returned it — gentle, not too wide. Just enough to let me feel it. He glanced toward the horizon and then back at me. “Come swim with me.” he said, quietly, like a suggestion, not a demand.

I blinked up at him. “Right now?”

He nodded. “There’s a spot I know here. It’s quiet. Clear water.”

I looked down at my coffee, at my bare feet curled against the chair and at the sky that hadn’t quite woken up. “I’m not exactly good company right now,” I admitted with that kind of honesty that slips out when you’re too tired to filter anything. 

“That’s okay,” he said, his voice low and kind. “I figured misery loves company, and I’m excellent company.”

I let out a soft breath, almost a laugh. I nodded and then pointed toward the cabins. “Give me five minutes. Maybe six. I have to remember where I planted my bikini.” 

He grinned, the expression soft and grateful, “I’ll start the boat.”

A couple minutes later, I found him standing outside and waiting for me. His arms crossed, pretending not to look impatient, but failing just a little. The morning light brushing against his profile like it had missed him too. As his eyes met mine, he gave me a once-over. Not in a way that made me shrink, just a quick scan to make sure I was awake enough, here enough. He stepped closer to the edge, making me take his warm, offered hand so I could step off onto a smaller boat. 

As we pulled away from the yacht, the noise of the world seemed to fade even more. There was no harsh engine roaring, just the hum of the sea and the occasional creak of the boat shifting beneath us. The breeze brushed through my hair, letting me take a deep breath. We didn’t talk much, but it wasn’t silence I hated. I sat across from him, arms around my knees, watching the ripples we left behind.

“Are you always this mysterious?” he asked after a minute, his voice light but not mocking. He never took his eyes away from the steering wheel or the ocean, “waking up early, staring at the sea.” I glanced at him, the wind teasing a strand of hair into my mouth, “Only when I haven’t slept properly in two weeks.”

He made a face that was part wince, part sympathy, “insomnia is one hell of a bitch.” he said, much quieter. “What about you?” I asked, shifting to face him a little more, “haven’t seen you in a minute… “ I threw back the questions at him. Honestly, I miss his presence more than anything. 

He smiled, a little sheepish while his eyes were still on the horizon. He gave a small shrug, “Had a few shifts, maintenance stuff…. steering that floating palace doesn’t come with an autopilot button.”

“Mm,” I said, “so you have been avoiding me.” I continued with a teasing voice. He looked at me, frowning, genuinely confused. “Now, why would I avoid you?” I smiled a smile that didn't reach my eyes, “I don’t know… maybe because I’m becoming annoying to be around.”

He tilted his head slightly, immediately shaking his head. “You’re not. You’re just full.”

“Full?”

“Of thoughts,” he said, nodding understandingly, “Stories. Feelings. Things you don’t say out loud.” I blinked, then grinned. “Okay, Dr. Freud. So you’re a captain, tour guide, chef, mechanist… and a psychoanalyst. How long is your resume?”

He laughed, head tipping back slightly, the sound carried off by the sea breeze. I laughed too, this time without holding anything back. The kind that came from somewhere small but real, somewhere I hadn’t reached in a while. We didn’t say much after that, the silence between us settled easily. Just the water lapping at the boat with both of us soaking in the sun.

Eventually, Heeseung slowed the boat with a practiced flick of his wrist, easing the throttle down until the engine softened to a low purr and then quieted altogether. The boat drifted for a moment, rocking gently in the clear water. He squinted slightly out at the horizon. “This is the spot,” he said quietly, as if he didn’t want to break the calm. The world around us felt hushed, just the endless blue and the faint call of seabirds somewhere far off.

He stood up then and tugged his shirt off in one motion, revealing a lean back scattered with faded freckles, the kind of tan that came from years at sea, not vacations. He tossed the shirt onto the bench behind him and stepped to the edge of the boat. Then, without a warning, he dove cleanly into the water, slicing through the surface with ease. 

I followed to the edge, letting my feet slip into the water below. It was cool, sharp and soft all at once. My eyes trailed after Heeseung as he swam effortlessly through the glittering water. The sun caught his wet hair while he had an unguarded grin on his face. After diving back in the water, he resurfaced near my feet, shaking his head and splashing water onto me in the process. “You know these are trying to kill each other, right?” he asked, wadling closer.

“Huh?”

“Your anklets,” he said. “Here, hold still.”

Before I could argue, his hands were already gently at my ankle, fingers deftly working the knots apart. I quieted down and watched how gentle he was with me. My eyes fell to his face: the curve of his lashes, still damp from the water; the way his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. The sun made his skin glow warm and gold, and I could see the faint trail of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, like he was holding back a thought he wouldn’t say aloud.

I wasn’t used to this kind of attention — quiet, thoughtful, without expectation. I wasn’t used to someone looking after me in ways that didn’t have to be spoken. His fingers brushed against my skin as he finished undoing the knot, and I felt that touch everywhere. 

“That's a cute one,” he said, holding one of my anklet’s charms between his fingers, “th little star… looks like it’s been with you a while.” I glanced down at the worn out charm, a bit dulled at the edges. “Yeah. My mom gave it to me when I was sixteen,” I said, the words coming easily, “she said I always had my head in the clouds, and this was supposed to keep a piece of the sky with me.”

He looked up at me then, his expression soft and focused, “she sounds like someone who paid attention.”

My next words sat heavy on my chest, “my parents did in their own way. Her and my dad…” I hesitated, “they both had their ways with everything. They were loud and messy. Nothing was ever quiet with them. Two lawyers being married isn’t easy…”

I laughed quietly, “but they love each other. A lot. there was never a moment where I doubted that they wanted each other.” I said, feeling the weight of the contrast between my situation and theirs press against my ribs. I looked away and then down at the water lapping against the side of the boat. 

There was a pause. The kind that wasn’t awkward, just honest. He let the charm go gently, his fingers brushing against my skin one last time. “But not with Jae?” he whispered, almost afraid to bring up the topic.

“With him…” I said, taking a deep breath, “I think him and I are the opposite of my parents. Our relationship is quiet, we never really fought. He is the lawyer, I was the business student who really just wanted to take photos for a living.” I gave a half-laugh, mostly laughing at myself, “my parents run a firm together. Big, loud courtroom people. They wanted me to follow in their footsteps, take over one day. But I didn’t want that for me. Photography was the only thing that ever felt like mine.” I paused, eyes on the horizon, “we made a deal, a common ground for everyone: I go to business school and keep my cameras as a hobby.”

I glanced at Heeseung, then looked down again at my feet in the water, “I started dating Jae near the end of my days at uni. He didn’t even tell me he was studying law at first. I found out a couple months in. My parents found out too. They adored him — like finally, a win in their eyes. And when we were both close to graduating, they really pushed for this marriage. Told me it made sense. Said I was lucky and shouldn't throw this chance away.” 

A beat passed. “And I guess I thought that agreeing to marry him would fix things with my parents, or at least keep things from breaking more. If I couldn’t give them the daughter they wanted, maybe I could give them the son-in-law they adored. So I said ‘yes’.” 

I let the words settle between us. “I didn’t realize how much of myself I’d lose in the process.” I swallowed. “I liked him, I really did.” I said, much softer. 

He was quiet for a long moment, I could feel that he was in deep thought. “You know…” he broke the silence before pushing himself up from the water to sit next to me on the edge of the boat, “there is a kind of grief from when you do everything right, but things still end up in the wrong place.” he said, his voice was low, intimate. I looked at him, but his gaze was on the water. 

“My dad was in the navy,” he continued with a faint smile on his lips, “Whole family thought I’d follow. Even had a spot lined up in a maritime academy. But I hated those uniforms, the structure, being told how to breathe.” He chuckled, “so instead, I worked every odd job I could until I bought my first boat. Treated her like my first born.” 

I snorted at that, making him shoot me a mock-offended look before laughing himself, “she broke down every third week and sank twice. But she was mine, so I pushed through,” He glanced over, meeting my eyes. “Until I figured out how to do this full-time. Climbed my way up to become a Captain of a yacht… but if I’m being honest, there are things I haven't mastered yet.”

I smiled, a little surprised. “That’s brave of you to drive the damn yacht then,”

He laughed, “maybe. Or maybe I was just stupid enough to not care and still did it.” he said before looking over at me. His voice softened again, “but you… you care. You tried to carry all of it: your parents’ hopes, Jae’s silence, even your own guilt. Like you’re sorry for not wanting the life they picked out for you.” My breath caught slightly in my chest. “But you don't owe them your whole self,” he added, “loving people doesn’t mean burying parts of yourself for them.” 

I smiled, “that easy, huh?” playful sarcasm laced my voice, but his words rang in my head. He gave a shrug, eyes warm. “Worth a shot.”

I looked at him for a moment, “even when you say the opposite, you always sound like you’ve figured it all out,” I said. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, “I’m winging it constantly. The only thing I’m halfway decent at is pretending I know what I’m doing.” 

I smiled, “you fake it well.” 

There was a pause, then he glanced toward the water, a softness settling into his expression, “there’s one person I try not to fake it with, though.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, nudging him lightly with my knee. “Who’s that?”

“My little sister,” his voice dropped a little, like he was letting me in on something private. “She is living back home with my mom. I helped raise her for a bit.” 

My smile faded into something gentler, “You don’t talk about her much.” I said. He nodded, “yeah, I don’t. She's too precious for that. She's smart, moody, sharp as hell. You know, the full teenage package.” He looked down at his hands, then grinned, “I keep writing to her about how many times i fuck up, but she also thinks I got it all figured out.”

“Writing?” I asked, blinking. He looked sheepish, “yeah. We write to each other, like actual letters.”

Seeing the Captain who gives orders to his crew being this sentimental was unexpectedly charming. I smiled softly, “that’s adorable.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but the way his fingers absently traced the edge of the boat said otherwise. “She tells me about her crushes. I tell her about the ‘hostile sea creatures’.”

We laughed together, the sound light between us. “I like that,” I said quietly, “you writing letters.” He turned to me again, this time with a small smile that reached all the way to his eyes, “you saying that makes me want to send one to you, just to prove I’ve got good stationery.” 

I raised an eyebrow at him before giggling, “sounds like an excuse to get me as your pen pal.”

-*-

Spending the whole day with Heeseung hadn’t exactly been my plan. After sunset, the night wrapped around the island like a soft blanket while the sky was a vast canvas of twinkling stars. Hee had roped me into joining the crew’s beach bonfire with a very persuasive smile and arguments. The crew had gathered a fire pit on the beach near the edge of the sand, letting its flame start crackling. A handful of passengers lounged nearby, their laughter and chatter blending with the gentle sound of waves kissing the shore.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at it to find it to be a message from Jae. 

“taking a call” - "J.", delivered 1 hour ago

Just those simple words and nothing else. No follow-up, no check-in, no ‘wish you were next to me’ messages like he used to when we first dated. I stared at the screen for a second longer than I should’ve, then tucked it back into my pocket without replying. I refused to think about him, tonight wasn’t for him. 

Hee introduced me to the crew, it was with easy smiles and no formalities — just nicknames and laughter. One of the crew members leaned in to me once she saw that Heeseung had turned his back to us, “so you’re the one our Captain’s been all mysterious about,” she said with a genuine, excited smile while handing me a stick with a perfectly speared marshmallow.

Another crew member was sitting next to us chimed in, “Cap’s got a type.” he said, grinning over his beer bottle.

I chuckled, a little flustered, trying to come up with something to say but Heeseung beat me to it. “Keep talking,” he warned him with sharp eyes, but there was humor under them, “and I’ll have you scrubbing the deck until sunrise.” The group erupted into laughter, that same crewmate groaning dramatically.

The rhythm of the waves and firelight could be heard next to their teasing. I leaned back slightly, absorbing the setting. Maybe it was how no one here asked about my credentials, what I studied — or my complete lack of a job. Maybe it was how the air felt softer on this island, or how I hadn’t smiled this much in weeks. I'm not sure, but it allowed me to let myself just exist. Not as someone’s daughter, not as someone’s wife — just me. 

The fire crackled loud and golden in the middle of our little circle on the beach, casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces. I kicked off my sandals, feeling the cool, soft sand sift between my toes. I settled closer to the fire with my stick that had a slightly charred marshmallow. The sweetness melted in my mouth as laughter bubbled up from inside me — light, unexpected and utterly freeing.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, I wasn’t thinking about Jae, or my parents, or the ring still hidden in my drawer. All that mattered was the warmth of the fire, the softness of the night. 

Hee was right in front of me, sitting casually on the made shift benches with his legs stretched out, his eyes never leaving me. There was something in the way he watched — quiet, steady, like he was memorizing me and the way the firelight flickered in my eyes. He was impossible to ignore. I caught him once, and he gave me a small, shy grin, the kind that made my heart skip just a little.

Eventually, someone from the crew jumped up. “Alright! I suggest a ten-minute crab hunt. Whoever brings back the biggest crab wins a ‘no cleanup duty’ pass for the next three nights.” Some people groaned and others laughed, but they all scattered into the darkness with makeshift flashlights and empty cups. Within seconds, the bonfire was mostly empty. I stayed seated, completely focused on making the perfect s’mores.

I caught him watching me again, “planning to write a letter about my marshmallow roasting skills?” I teased. 

The fire crackled between us, casting gold along his jawline as he smirked. “I’m trying to infer how you like your s’mores,” he said. The fire rustled between us as I caught the sparkle in his eyes that made my heart race just a bit faster.

I glanced at the sad marshmallow bubbling on the end of my stick. “I don't like them burnt,” I explained, pointing to the stick. “They need to be in this ‘slightly touched’ zone, you know? Like golden. Perfectly golden.”

“Hm right, right.” he said, leaning in slightly to inspect, “but… I think you’re in the ‘charcoal’ zone.”

I gasped. “Oh, fuck off! Stop distracting me!” I said, taking off the fire as he tried to stifle a laugh. “You’re sabotaging,” I muttered, trying to take the marshmallow off the stick only for it to fall into the flames, catching on fire completely. 

“Here,” he said, reaching over and offering his own — perfectly golden, like he’d been roasting it with a slow kind of intention. “Take mine.”

I smiled and took it slowly by sandwiching his marshmallow between graham crackers and chocolate squares. It melted slightly at the edges, giving it that gooey look. He watched me with that same quiet amusement, his chin resting on his hand like he had all the time in the world just to roast marshmallows for me.

I lifted it to my mouth and took the first bite. I couldn’t help the soft groan that escaped, “okay, wow,” I said, covering it with the back of my hand. “That’s actually stupid good.” Without thinking, I turned to him and lifted the s’more up. “Here. You have to try it,” I said, holding it out between us. 

He hesitated for half a second, then leaned in, biting right next to my own bite. His hands closed gently around mine, steadying my grip on the s’more while his lips brushing just past my knuckles. He chewed thoughtfully, “Mm, you were right.” he said in between bites. 

As I was beaming in pride at my s’mores, he reached up and flicked a tiny smudge of chocolate from the corner of my mouth, his fingers lingering. I caught his gaze with my cheeks heating up. Slowly, he slipped that chocolate trace into his own mouth, a satisfied smile was clear on his lips, “looks like you’ve got chocolate,” he teased softly.

I laughed, trying to calm down my fast heart beat, “guess I’ll have to keep you around to clean up my messes.”

He raised his brows, a slow, amused smile tugging at his lips. He definitely heard and understood something else. I realized the gravity of my word vomit, “oh my god, no! I mean—no, not like that! I just—" I said, digging myself deeper and stumbling over my words.

Mortified, I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “Oh my god,” I mumbled into my palms, “I’m never speaking again.” My skin burned, my shoulders curled inward like I could disappear right into the sand. All I could hear was his laughter as he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me gently into his side. I didn’t resist, I just let myself fall into the space he made for me. The sound of the fire clattering filled the night air, mingling with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pressed softly against my shoulder.

-⚓︎-

The days are passing by more gently now. I found myself lingering near the crew more often, picking up the inside jokes from the kitchen staff, helping arrange coffee cups when I got bored. It was easier than being alone, easier than sitting in a room that still smelled like a stranger. 

I would also helped Hee with breakfast… sometimes even lunch and dinner if I’m being honest. He started taking me around to the little shops and markets on every island we stopped at — weaving through narrow aisles of handmade jewelry, coconut soaps, woven sarongs, and sun-bleached postcards. 

He never rushed me. Just watched me browse, fascinated, occasionally holding things up and asking my opinion on them. I didn’t mean to spend so much time with Heeseung. Our moments weren’t planned, they just… happened, like we were accidentally orbiting each other.

One night I sat outside on a bench of a quiet deck at the back of the yacht. The stars were soft above me, and the sea was unusually still, like it was holding its breath. I had my knees tucked up under me, a tiny bottle of nail polish — a soft, ocean-glass green that Hee picked out ‘because it reminded him of seafoam and me half-asleep’ — balanced on the wood between my ankles. I’d gotten two fingers done, smudged but salvageable, before things started going sideways.

“Is this a manicure or a wrestling match?” a voice called, warm and familiar. I looked up to find him walking over, arms crossed and grinning.

“I’m trying,” I sighed with a smile, holding up my left hand. He came closer and sat in front of me, settling down right in front of me, the bench wide enough so that my legs fit between his. The closeness was becoming natural, his knees lightly brushing mine. “Want me to help?”

I hesitated, only for a second, before nodding and handing over the tiny bottle. He took it gently, and then took my hand just as gently. The way he cradled my hand was tender yet deliberate. He fell into silence as he focused, I watched him more than I should have. “Are you good at this because you have a sister?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

He glanced up, smirking, “keeping notes on me?”

“Maybe.”

When he finished, he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in a little, blowing softly over the fresh polish. As his fingers were still holding mine, I looked up where I met his eyes. Everything slows down, just enough to make a decision.

He was leaning in closer to my lips, I couldn't seem to pull away. So I lifted my index finger and pressed it gently against his soft lips, stopping him from getting closer. My heart practically sprinted in my chest at this point. “As much as I want to…” I said, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m still married.”

“I know…” his voice was quiet, carrying a weight that made the space between us feel fragile. His eyes held no anger or bitterness—just a quiet sadness, silently mourning a future that might never be. 

With a small, almost apologetic smile, he added, “I’m not trying to be the reason you forget that,” he finally let go of my hand, the warmth slipping away. “But I can’t keep showing up like this, not when I’m starting to fall for you. And I think you already know that.” His words hit harder than I expected, my breath hitched again.

He reached into his pockets, “I brought you something,” he said, and pulled out a camera. It was older, not sleek or shiny, but clearly loved — scuffed around the edges, worn in a way that felt personal. “It’s not fancy,” he admitted, placing it gently in my hands. “But it’s mine. Thought maybe…  you’d want to take pictures again.” I stared at it, speechless.

By the time I looked up, he was already walking away, the soft deck lights casting a shadow behind him. I stayed there, sitting in the quiet while the camera felt heavy in my lap. A lump formed in my throat, and I felt tears gathering at the edges of my eyes. Tears I didn’t know if I wanted to shed or hold back.

-⚓︎-

He’s been watching me from a distance for maybe a week — never close enough to speak, but always near enough that I can feel his eyes on me. He probably thinks I don’t notice, but once you’ve grown used to his attention, it’s hard to ignore it. I see it in the little things, like how he would leave the kettle of ginger tea waiting for me in the kitchen, my spot on the outer deck always arranged how I like.

However, the air between us stays heavy, thick with all the things we’re both too afraid to say aloud. Like we’re carrying a weight neither of us wants to name. Since that night — the night of ‘almost’, where we didn’t quite cross the line — there hasn’t been a single word exchanged. A silent barrier has settled between us.

One afternoon on the deck, while I’m adjusting the lens of his camera, trying to focus and stay focused, I catch movement in my periphery. I glance up, and there he is. Heeseung, standing on the upper deck, bathed in pale light like the day itself hasn’t quite decided whether it wants to be soft or sharp. His arms are crossed over the railing, eyes already on me. Our gazes collide — just for a second before I look away.

The silence between Jae and I had always felt empty. Like two people ignoring the fact that they’d built a life on top of separate islands. But the silence between Heeseung and I does not feel empty. It feels like questions and answers we are too afraid to ask and respond to. 

Even from far away, even without a word, he sees me more clearly than Jae ever did. 

I sat in my cabin alone that evening, the ocean murmuring just beyond the walls. The little camera sat warm in my hands, his camera. I had only meant to scroll through the shots I’d taken earlier that day: a dock at sunrise, a blur of passing sails. 

But somewhere along the way, I must’ve flicked too far, because suddenly I was looking at photos I didn’t take. They were older ones, tucked into the memory card.

The first was a blurry photo of a girl standing on a rocky shoreline, maybe his sister? or someone close? She’s caught mid-laugh, hair tangled by the wind, the kind of candid photo that feels like a stolen moment. Then a handful of quiet landscapes with the soft curves of a dock.It all felt like a time capsule that I had no clue what was inside. I kept clicking, slowly, as if each image might say something he never told me out loud. 

And then, a self-timer shot. Young Heeseung, covered in sand, smiling crookedly and sitting beside a half-repaired boat engine. He looks lighter there, like the weight he carries now wasn’t on his shoulders yet. Something tugged in my chest, sharp and strange. I stare at that photo for longer than I should. It feels like a glimpse of someone I’m only just beginning to understand. 

My thumb hovered over the button to keep scrolling, but I stopped — feeling like I cracked open his diary without meaning to. This feels too private for me to continue looking at. So I just turned the camera off and didn't dare delete a single photo. 

-⚓︎-

Another evening, we were back in our cabin after dinner. The kind of dinner where we barely spoke and I just pushed food around my plate. Jae had excused himself to take a shower. I nodded, barely looking up from my phone, though I hadn’t really been looking at anything, my thumb kept scrolling through nothing. The silence between us stayed in that familiar state.

He left his phone on the nightstand, as usual. Face up with the screen black. I didn’t look at first. But the moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, a notification popped up. I don’t know why I froze and just… stared at it. but something in me stirred, low and uneasy. My heart thumped, like a quiet knock against a door I didn’t want to open. 

Curiosity isn’t always innocent. Sometimes, it’s instinct. Sometimes, it’s the body begging the heart to wake up and listen.

My fingers moved before I could reason with them. Just check, prove yourself wrong. That’s what I told myself as I picked it up. It was completely unlocked. I have never checked his phone before during college. Not even once. I never had a reason to, he never gave me a reason to.

But I wasn’t wrong. Her name was saved so neatly under ‘Coworker’. Of course, what a dumbass move. The messages were all there, unfolded one by one. They were scattered, careless. 

“Had fun last night.”  - "me", delivered 2 weeks ago

“Wish I was waking up next to you.” - "me", delivered 1 month ago

“Can’t wait for when she’s not around.” - "Coworker", delivered 1 week ago

I sat there frozen and reading them.  Message after message. Pet names. Late-night plans. My eyes burned before the tears even started. Then came the photos, from him and her. Her body posed, shared like a secret. The kind of photos you send when you're sure someone wants you. He did, he wanted her. 

My chest cracked open. I didn’t cry, not yet, but I could feel something inside me crumble. My breath hitched, sharp and involuntary, and I swallowed down a sob — not loud, but it cracked through me like a branch snapping under pressure. Just enough that if he was listening from behind the door, he would’ve heard. 

The shower turned on a second later. Loud and unbothered. 

I stood, slowly, wiping at my face with the back of my hand. “I’m going out for air.” I called out, my voice came out small and shaky. Nothing from him, just the sound of the water. I'm not even sure if he heard me, I don't even care anymore.

The door clicked shut behind me with a softness that didn’t match the way my heart was breaking. I stepped out into the open night, barefoot and numb, the hum of the yacht beneath me like a ghost’s heartbeat. The deck was quiet, empty. Everyone else was tucked away in their cabins, blissfully unaware.

The air was thick with salt and warmth, a strange mix for this late in the evening. The breeze was gentle, brushing past me like it already knew I was fragile tonight. He really fucked me over once i was finally feeling somewhat okay. 

I walked until I reached the railing, curling my fingers around the cool metal. The sea stretched out in front of me — black, endless, glittered faintly with starlight. It felt like looking into something eternal, something that swallowed secrets for a living.

My chest ached in that dull, splintering way. The tears didn’t fall yet, they just sat there heavy. I didn’t know how long I stood there like that — body still, soul unraveling — until I heard footsteps behind me. 

“I figured I’d find you out here,” Heeseung said, his voice as gentle as I remember it. didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. My glassy eyes were glued to the water like it might pull me in and keep me. 

My voice barely came out when I whispered, “He’s cheating.”

Heeseung didn’t move at first. Just stood there, jaw set, his hands curling slightly at his sides like he didn’t trust them not to do something reckless. He walked toward me slowly, carefully, like I might shatter if he moved too fast. He looked at me like he wanted to say a hundred things but wasn’t sure where to start.

Then, without a word, he reached up and cradled my face gently between his calloused hands. His thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, catching the tears I didn’t have the energy to hide. “Oh, sweetheart…” he murmured, “you didn’t deserve this.”

And God, the way he said it. Like it physically hurt him to witness it. Like if he could’ve taken even a fraction of it off my shoulders, he would’ve done it without thinking.

My throat tightened then my knees nearly buckled. He pulled me into him before I could fall apart completely, his arms wrapping around me. Like he’d been waiting to hold me long before he was ever allowed to. I buried my face in his chest and cried — really cried. I feel like nothing could’ve prepared me for that. The beteral was a sharp stab into my heart, my lungs, my stomach, everywhere.

Eventually my sobs calmed down, but my tears didn’t stop. He continued to hold me, not saying anything and just brushing my hair with his hand. 

In the quiet that followed, a soft melody floated through the air from afar. Faint romantic jazz tune started playing, reminding me of warm candlelight and open windows. Probably leftover from the dinner service playlist. 

He shifted slightly, just enough to speak into my hair, “wanna dance?” he asked. I blinked up at him through tears, half-laughing, half-sniffling. “You’re joking.”

But he wasn’t, he gave me that little crooked smile of his. “Completely serious.” I stared at him… this man with the softest eyes, the worst timing and maybe the best heart.

“You do realize I have the coordination of a baby giraffe, right?” I said, raising a brow. “That’s okay,” he murmured, already taking my hand. “I’ve always wanted to dance with a giraffe.” A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it.

We swayed gently and stupidly on the deck, offbeat. The music was too slow for how fast my heart was racing. The moon hung low, silver and swollen above us, like even it had paused to watch. His hand fit so easily against my waist, like it belonged there. 

I tripped over his foot once and laughed, heat rushing to my cheeks. “You’re doing perfect,” he said softly before spinning me, making my stomach flip. I landed back in his arms and looked up, he was already watching me. 

“Can I kiss you now?” His voice was low, careful but honest. I giggled, breathless. Like I was a teenager again, falling for someone for the very first time. I nodded.

When he kissed me, all the tangled knots of doubt and guilt that had been twisting inside me suddenly loosened. In that moment, nothing else existed — just the softness of his lips and the quiet promise that I deserve this kind of gentle kindness.

-⚓︎-

The hallway outside the cabins carried that familiar, soothing scent: a mix of saltwater and aged teakwood. I had just stepped out from the crew’s rec room, the faint echo of laughter still on my lips. It wasn’t loud laughter — just the kind that slips out when you finally forget how heavy you’ve been feeling.

I started turning a corner completely forgetting that it led to our shared room, making me almost crash right into someone. Into him, Jae. I stumbled back a step, startled. His body was rigid, blocking the hallway like a wall I hadn’t prepared to face. His eyes locked onto mine instantly — sharp, burning, already full of accusation. He didn’t even blink. 

“Where the hell were you?” he snapped, the words had been sitting on his tongue all night, waiting to bite.

“I was — just talking to —”

“With who?” he cut me off, his words lashed out like a whip. “That Captain again? You think this is funny? Are you trying to humiliate me in front of everyone?” His voice was low to not cause a scene but it was still cruel, laced with something uglier than anger. 

I flinched, stepping back as my heart began pounding in my chest. The corridor suddenly felt too narrow, too quiet. “We’re married, Y/N, remember that?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” I whispered. He scoffed, eyes narrowing. He subtly shifted in his posture, his hand wanting to reach and grab my arm.

“That’s enough.” said a voice from behind me — calm, but with a cold edge that sent a shiver down my spine. I turned and saw Heeseung standing there, his eyes locked onto Jae with an intensity that didn’t scream anger, but radiated quiet control.

Jae’s sneer deepened as he met Heeseung’s gaze. “Oh, you again,” he spat, voice thick with disdain. “This is between my wife and I.”

“Not when it happens on my boat.” Heeseung stepped forward, his tone sharp as a knife. “You’re not raising your voice at anyone here. So either you leave now, or I’ll personally escort you back to your room.” Heeseung took another step closer, creating space between Jae and I, voice dropping even further into an absolute command. “And it’s ‘Captain’ to you.”

The air thickened with silence, heavy and suffocating. Jae’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes flicking between Heeseung and me, weighing his options. I drifted a little closer to Heeseung’s side, like my body already knew where safety was. After a long beat, Jae spun on his heel, muttering a curse under his breath as he stalked away, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.

Heeseung turned toward me, the hardness in his gaze softened immediately, “are you okay?” he asked as his hands found my shoulders, firm but gentle  —  grounding me back into my body. I nodded, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding.

His eyes searched mine for a long patient moment, before he ran a hand through his hair in that restless way he had when something was bothering him. “You’re not staying in that room anymore,” he said at last. His voice was calm, but the edge of resolve in it left no room for argument. It was not a suggestion nor a question. 

I furrowed my brows, confusion blooming. “What do you mean?”

He gave me a small, almost shy smile. “I’ve arranged a bigger, nicer suite for you. Portside. The windows are bigger — should help with the nausea.” His gaze flicked down to the camera strap resting lightly against my neck, and he added, “Better light, too.”

I opened my mouth to protest, “You didn’t have to —”

But he cut me off gently, shaking his head. “I know. But I wanted to.”

-*-

Later that night, I found Heeseung sitting quietly in the corner of the lounge, the soft glow of a single lamp casting gentle shadows across his face. He was writing a letter, his pen moving steadily over the paper as if each word mattered more than the last. The calmness in his posture made the restless sea outside feel even louder in comparison.

I settled a little ways off, careful not to disturb him. The soft hum of the yacht and the gentle rocking beneath us filled the quiet space between. Quietly, I lifted my camera and began snapping photos — the dark, endless ocean stretching beyond the windows, the way the moonlight danced on the water’s surface.

Then, I turned my lens toward Heeseung. There he was, sitting still and lost in deep thought. The soft glow of the cabin lights tracing the lines of his face, the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes seemed to hold intimate secrets. There was something tender and almost vulnerable about him in that dim light, so different from the strong, commanding Captain others usually saw.

After a while, I lowered the camera and glanced over at him. The soft click of the shutter had stopped. “Do you think your sister would like me?” I asked, barely above a whisper, my voice daring to break the moment.

He paused mid-sentence, pen hovering above the page and looked up at me. A small smile tugging at his lips, “I think,” he said, eyes holding mine, “she’d love you.” I blinked, caught off guard by how certain he sounded. 

“She’d ask a million questions about your camera,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling, “she’d probably beg you to teach her everything. And she’d keep every single photo you give her.” The image he’d painted lingered in my mind — vivid and stubborn in the best way. I couldn’t help the small giggle that slipped out, “she sounds amazing.”

From his smile, I could see how deeply he missed her — how much space she took up in his heart even from far away.

When he finished the letter, I stayed quiet, watching the gentle curl of his handwriting dry against the paper. Then, without saying much, I moved to the little corner printer and pulled up the shots I’d taken.  The little frozen pieces of our quiet world. I printed them slowly, one by one, letting the ink set before I tucked them into the envelope beside his letter. It's like adding pieces of this quiet, shared world I wanted his sister to know about.

I wanted her to see this version of him. I wanted her to see what I saw. 

-⚓︎-

A couple of months slipped through my fingers. Slowly at first, then all at once. The days stretched with ease, filled with quiet days and evenings, wandering island towns, and a sense of freedom I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. I would wake up with sea salt in my hair, my camera tucked somewhere beside me while I'm tucked in Heeseung’s arms. 

Some nights, I’d quietly slip into his captain’s cabin, and other times, he’d be the one falling asleep in mine — as if drawn by some invisible thread.  We’d lie there in the low lamplight, tangled under the soft blankets and sharing soft laughter. Hours would stretch and blur, until sleep pulled us under. I’d rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as we drifted off, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of those stolen moments.

I’d fallen into a daily rhythm, one that didn’t revolve around Jae anymore. He stopped being the center of my orbit. His absence didn’t echo as loudly as I thought it would. In fact, he’d gotten off the yacht a few stops ago, saying something vague about needing to ‘handle things back home’. I just nodded, like I always had, and let him go.

I tried, for a while, to come up with reasons for why he cheated. Maybeitwas to comfort myself, maybe to make sense of why someone who promised forever could turn around and betray it so carelessly. But all it did was make me more confused and frustrated. So I let that go as well, making me able to breathe again.

I was waiting at a small day bar for my two drink orders — one for me, one for Hee — until my phone buzzed with a new message in the pocket of my shorts. 

“I’ll have the divorce papers sent.” - "J.", delivered 30 sec ago

That was it, one line with no apologies or explanations. Just a clean, clinical statement like we were parting ways on a business deal. I stared at the message for a long time, rereading it once… then twice. I didn’t reply. Instead, I slipped my phone back into the pocket of my jean shorts, feeling strangely detached. The tears I expected never came; instead, an unexpected, hollow laugh bubbled up.

When I found Heeseung, he was in the middle of a story on the lower deck, surrounded by a few of the younger crew members. Their laughter filled the air, warm and unguarded, spilling out in waves as they doubled over with amusement. I waited patiently for the moment to settle before stepping closer, sliding the cool drink into his hand. Our fingers brushed briefly — a light, familiar touch that had become comforting over time. Without hesitation, he draped an arm around my shoulders, the gesture so natural it felt like second skin.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, meant for me and only me.  I nodded, “yeah.” And before I could think too much about it, before doubt had any time to creep in, he leaned down and caught my lips in a kiss. Soft, unrushed, honest. I smiled against his lips, making him kiss the edge of it.

Somehow, this made me feel more like forever than anything I had before. It hit me, somewhere between the warmth of his arm around my shoulders and the echo of laughter still hanging in the air — this was it. This was my real honeymoon. 

-*-

Later, when it was just us sitting near the bow, he had his feet propped up and my thighs rested on his lap. The sea reflects burnt orange from the sun’s descent. He nudged my side with his shoulder, “be honest… was it really an accident when you started taking photos of me in the beginning?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift, then laughed lightly. “Are you fishing for compliments now, Captain?”

He sipped his drink, playing innocent. “I just remember you were supposed to be taking shots of the shoreline, and somehow I ended up as the main subject.”

“You looked ridiculous,” I laughed. “That was not an accident. I needed proof.” 

He leaned in again, close enough that his hair brushed my temple. “So you admit it.”

I shook my head and rested back against his shoulder, “you’re impossible.”

-⚓︎-

The sun was high, the yacht gliding slow along a stretch of endless blue. Hee had been tied up with boat maintenance and supply runs the past couple days, leaving me to drift through the hours on my own and to organise our photos on my laptop. 

I was curled on one of the deck chairs with his T-shirt over my shoulders and my camera on my side when an email popped up on my screen, interrupting the peace. I read the email’s subject: ‘Photography Assistant Position – Offer Letter Attached’.

I remembered applying to the job months ago — just one of many desperate clicks late at night, back when I still thought distraction might save me. I never expected a reply. Definitely not now. Not when everything had finally started to feel real.

It was nothing prestigious or glossy. But it was something tangible, mine. I read the whole email many times, and my heart twisted at each word in the way it only does when something good and something hard arrive at the exact same time.

I found Heeseung later that night, sitting alone near the back of the yacht, humming quietly to himself as he watched the waves roll and break beneath the silver wash of moonlight. I sat beside him, reached for his hands, and told him everything — about the email, about the job, about how long I’d wanted it, about how I couldn’t afford to miss this opportunity. 

He listened without interrupting, his thumb tracing quiet circles over my knuckles. When I finally stopped talking, he let go of my hands only to cup my face, his palms warm and steady against my cheeks. He kissed them both — soft, slow — before resting his forehead against mine. “I’m so happy for you, my love,” he said.

And he meant it. I could hear it in his voice. Even as his words cracked slightly at the edges, caught somewhere deeper than his throat.

We didn’t really talk about what it meant. We didn’t ask the hard questions like ‘what now?’ or ‘what if…’. Instead, we promised to just enjoy the time we had left. Like it wouldn’t hurt later, like it wasn’t already starting to.

-*-

A couple of days later, we arrived at a tiny island with a quiet beach stop. The village was small, almost forgotten — no paved roads, just soft sand paths. Kids ran barefoot, their laughter bubbling through the warm air like music. I wandered alongside Heeseung, completely absorbed in the peaceful simplicity of it all. So absorbed, in fact, that I forgot to put on sunscreen.

“Hey,” Heeseung’s voice caught up to me as we passed a fruit stall bursting with ripe mangoes. He glanced at my shoulders, concern flickering in his eyes. “Your shoulders are turning red.”

I gave him a distracted smile, my eyes lingering on the vibrant baskets overflowing with ripe fruit. The colors and scents pulled me in, and I barely registered his words. Without missing a beat, he reached into my small backpack and carefully pulled out my sunscreen tube, already warmed from sitting in the sun.

He squeezed some into his hands and reached out gently, “hold still.” His fingers moved slow, soft against my skin, trailing cool across my slightly sunburnt shoulders. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself memorize the way he touched me. 

After a few seconds, I whispered, “You missed a spot.”

Without looking up, he grinned. “You’re just saying that to make me nervous.” We laughed quietly, like we always did.

-⚓︎-

The last day stretched long and slow, the sun dipping low. The sky melted into soft pinks and yellow, casting a quiet glow across the beach. We found ourselves sitting on the warm sand, the sea whispering gently beside us. It felt like one of those perfect, quiet moments that I never wanted to end.

He turned a small seashell over in his hand, brushing off a bit of sand before holding it out between us. “Whisper a promise into this,” he said, that familiar playful smile tugging at his lips.

I raised a brow, amused. “Promise, huh? What kind of promise?”

“Anything,” he shrugged. “Just something you want the ocean to keep safe.”

I leaned in, brought my lips closer to the curve of the seashell in his hand, “I promise to never tell anyone you cried during that dolphin documentary.” He laughed, nudging my shoulder, the sound soft against the hush of the waves.

Then he took his own shell, leaned in, “I promise not to make fun of your flip-flop tan lines.” he whispered. “Oh my god,” I groaned, laughing. “They’re not that bad.” 

Our laughter trailed behind us as we tossed our shells into the tide. After a couple silly promises, his expression shifted — his smile became something quieter. He picked up another shell, held it for a beat. “Promise me you’ll come back.” His voice dropped, serious but gentle. 

I stared at him, heart stumbling in my chest. Without answering, I reached for a shell of my own, pressed it to my lips, and whispered just loud enough for the wind to hear, “I promise.”

He kissed me, slow and certain, like he meant to leave the shape of his lips behind for when I was gone. His hand curled gently around my cheek, thumb brushing just beneath my eye like he was memorizing me, again, for what it seemed like for the Nth time ever since I told him about me leaving.

When we pulled apart, we dug a shallow hollow in the warm sand. Carefully, we placed the two shells in the little nest we’d made — his and mine. A small, secret vow tucked into the earth. And as the waves crept closer and the sky deepened into dusk, I found myself hoping, truly hoping, that the ocean knew how to keep that promise.

-⚓︎-

The port looked softer in the morning light. Everything was bathed in that delicate, yellow hush that only early hours seem to know. As if the world was holding its breath for just a little longer. Heeseung had already helped load my duffel and suitcase into the back of the taxi with a thud from the trunk. Behind him, the yacht swayed gently with the tide, quiet and steady — like it knew it was time to let go as well. 

He stood a few feet away, hands tucked in his pockets, his expression unreadable. Not quite smiling, not quite sad. When he finally stepped forward and pulled me into a hug, he held me a little too tightly — the same way he had last night as we fell asleep. His arm wrapped around me like he was afraid I might vanish in the dark, unsure when he’d be allowed to do so again.

Right against my ear, he whispered, “If I said ‘I love you’, would it make this harder?”

I swallowed hard, the words catching somewhere in my throat. My fingers clutched at the fabric of his uniform — the pearly white collar warm beneath my hands, familiar now. Safe. I blinked fast, the world blurring at the edges. He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes searching, flicking between mine.

“We will say it next time we see each other. And we will mean it then, too.” I said, trying my best not to cry. I refused to let his last memory of me be of me crying. My breath left me in a quiet, aching rush. I reached for him as his lips found mine, before I could fall apart completely. This kiss was wrapped in promise, gratitude and love that arrived too late, but still managed to bloom anyway.

It took everything in me to step back. My arms felt heavy, like they didn’t want to leave the space. He didn’t try to stop me. Just reached for my hand one last time, the way he always did, and pressed his lips to the back of it, soft and lingering. When he pulled away, I felt the slip of paper between my fingers.

A folded letter. “Read it later,” he said quietly. His smile wavered — still tender, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I started to reach into my pocket, fingertips brushing against the familiar shape of his camera. “I should give this back—” I began, but before I could finish, he gently covered my hand with his. He didn’t say anything right away, just shook his head. “Don’t,” he said softly. “It’s yours now.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. 

He opened the taxi door for me, his fingertips grazing my back as I slid into the seat. The door closed with a click that felt too final, echoing. The engine hummed to life beneath me as I saw his face one last time. Through the glass, I saw him step back. One hand raised, a small wave. Just before I turned the corner, he brought his fingers to his lips and kissed them, then blew the kiss toward me.

A few minutes into the drive, I couldn’t wait any longer. With trembling fingers, I unfolded the letter he’d slipped into my hand — the paper soft and slightly creased, like it had been held, rewritten, maybe even second-guessed a few times. His handwriting stared back at me. 

The tears came fast, just quietly streaking down my cheeks. I pressed the letter to my chest when I finished, as if holding it close could keep something from slipping away.

My dearest and only love, I told myself I wouldn’t write anything. That I’d let you go silently. I’ve always been terrible at goodbyes, and worse at holding back when my heart's already made up. You changed me more than I thought was possible. Gently at first, then all-consuming.  I know you're leaving for something you've always wanted, and there's nothing about that I can ever hold against you. Still. It doesn't make it any easier. No words could ever fully hold how much I’ll miss you.  I’ll be right where you left me.  With all that I am, — Your Captain.

Some promises don’t need vows. Just the right words at the right time — and someone willing to wait.

[yuriririnnie]

[yuriririnnie]

Missing Soobin hours…

❝ SOMEONE OLDER, GUYS MY AGE JUST AREN’T THE SAME ❞

— pairing: 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝖿.ᐟ𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 ⸝⸝ 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗒 𝗑 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾

warning :age gap , swearing , mutual pinning kinda?, makeout, petnames, not proofread

wc 2.3k

soobins morning was going quite terribly to say the least, from his shirt being wrinkled costing him 10 minutes to iron it, his favorite coffee shop being closed down and the now pouring rain—forced soobin to go to another coffee shop 15 minutes away from his usual, he was already going to be late for work but at this point he really didn’t care needing to satiate his taste for his usual bitter coffee. damp from walking in the rain, he had finally made it to the shop. it was annoyingly colorful and accented in soft pink colors, if his usual spot wasn’t closed he would’ve kept walking, but after all that’s happened all he really wanted was an iced americano to somewhat brighten his mood.

once he walked he was bombarded with an annoyingly high and happy voice greeting him. “hello sir! how are you today?” his obvious stoic and cold face didn’t deter you, how particular? “i’d like an ice americano, extra ice” iced coffee in the dead of winter fit his cold aura, he decided to ignore your question about how he was. even in a better mood he’d be less inclined to answer your obnoxious questions even more so right now. you simply nodded and began to ring up his item.

“anything else?” you lifted your head, smiling happily.

“if i wanted something, i would’ve ordered something more” his voice cut through the happy and light atmosphere, his voice sharp and bitter coincidentally like the coffee he was ordering. you nodded “well with such a bitter drink m’surprised you’re not getting a sweet treat” you spoke softly but there was such a light tone to your voice.

you took his card, he didn’t reply.

so you didn’t either.

you called him for the order and walked away from the counter ready to take the next order, his eyebrows raised noticing a box next to his drink“I didn’t order a pastry.”

you turned back “i know! it’s on the house from new customers” you smiled dusting your hands off on your apron.

cute he thought

he wanted to refuse, but you walked away, he was already late. and he didn’t want to debate with an overly happy coffee worker over pastries. so he took them and left.

sitting at his desk he sipped his drink, it wasn’t his usual brew like he’d normally drink but it’d do. he looked at the box and he thought to give it away. to rid himself of those overly sweet treats but his curiosity got the best of him. and he opened the box, two strawberry tarts. his brows furrowed, ready to give them away to his nearest coworker. but his curiosity got the best of him again and he took a bite of the treat and as he expected it was overly sweet—his eyes closed from how tart and sugary it was and he reached for his coffee to wash it down. his eyes opened again, his tongue relishing the taste.

he enjoyed it, the bitter contrast to the sweet. so abnormal to him, but he found himself craving it again.

so he took another bite.

soon he found himself craving that same taste again. that craving for such delicious interactions and his usual brewery wasn’t satiating his cravings. so there he was at the same coffee shop, he saw you through the window.

“iced americano, extra ice.” he spoke again, your head perked up. “i could only recognized such an order before!” you smiled, “seems like those tarts did the trick mm?” you laughed softly, he looked slightly unease—shifting his weight.

after finishing his drink, you sat the finished drink down on the counter as well as another pastry box “i’m not a new customer, so what’s this?” he spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone that made you chuckle, “little gift from me to you” you smiled, spinning around and hopping away.

he looked down at his coffee, heart ice cubes. he smiled to himself, and the box was filled with the sweet tarts again. when he finished his drink, he was ready to throw it away until he realized there was a message written in black ink on the cup.

“hope you become a regular from now on ~ y/n :3”

“y/n” he muttered to himself. smiling at the way he sounded.

so cute

weeks continued and soobin became a regular at the coffee shop, he had small conversations with you when it wasn’t busy. sure it earned him a good scolding from his boss for getting at his job 35 minutes late but, he had a regular craving for the coffee.

no he had a craving for you, your sweetness

he learned what you liked, your favorite sweets and noticing your favorite sweater you’d wear now that it was getting colder. “y/n?” you looked up while making his coffee ‘mmm?’ you hummed focused on making his drink with precision “how old are you again?” your eyes lifted up as the coffee brewed, “how old?”I just turned nineteen” you smiled softly and nodded as you spoke, god that smile is doing things to him.

“i’m twenty eight” he said carefully, like he didn’t want to break this fragile relationship that he was enjoying so much. he was gauging your reaction ready for you to taken aback, instead—“i’ve always wanted someone older” you spoke softly, in that same soft tone that made his heart crave more. he felt his jaw tense and his shoulders relaxed. he nodded “good to know.” you looked up and gave him a cheeky smile, giggling afterwards. oh how he loved how sweet you were

thankfully soobin was smart enough to ask what was your work schedule this week, you were working the closing shift on friday.

11am-6pm

and he was glad that this friday he gets let off early. like a man on a mission—no, like a starved man. who hasn’t gotten enough of his daily fix yet he made his way to the shop. and there he saw you walking out, getting the keys to lock the place.

“y/n” he said softly walking up to you, you looked up after noticing him. “soobin? ah you just missed us we’re closing” you said with a soft pout in your voice, soobin swallowed.

taking a step forward he spoke “i wanted to see you-“ he looked off into the street “im craving something sweet again” he spoke, his words careful. you shifted your weight on your feet and nodded.

“i think i like you soobin” you said looking up at him. he just stared and nodded “im nineteen”to that he also nodded. his mind spiraling and feeling foggy now.

he looked back at you, taking another step “y/n its cold outside”

you nodded. “it is..” yet it doesn’t feel that way, you felt a warm flutter in your chest and the way soobin looked at you, he looked hungry for more than his usual sweet tarts. like the usual flirty comments and lingering stares wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger, he needed more.

“y/n” he said your name again, in the same monotone voice “how far do you live?” you blinked. and pointed down the street “just a few minutes away, why-“ and just before you could finish your sentence “can i come over?” he finally got the words out “invite me over-“ he adjust his jacket slightly “invite me over… please” he said that with such want… such need.

you nodded eagerly.

“o-of course” you looked up, he was standing closer than you remembered. now standing directly in front of you, his eyes burning hard into yours as he nodded.

the walk back to your place felt excruciatingly long, you’d walk side by side with him—glancing up at him occasionally. and when you got to your apartment, you pulled your keys out, fumbling to put them in as you looked up at him. his hand reached over yours and guided the key into lock, unlocking the door for you.

and as soon as the door closed behind you two, he cupped your face. bringing you into a heated kiss… it was messy and he was fighting for dominance, you kissed back so softly and tenderly it made him whine. he pushed you against the counter and trapped you against it, your hands gripped his jacket tightly. you could taste the bitterness of the coffee still on his tongue. his kiss was similar, not bitter just intense.

he took his jacket off, discarding it on the floor. he pulled away, breath ragged “mm- why are you shaking princess?” you could only whimper slightly at the loss of contact “you’ve kissed someone before right?” he leaned in closely to your ear, laughing softly, biting down on it after he spoke “o-of course i have just- not this fast-“ your voice quivered, your chest rising and falling quickly. he smiled “i can go slow” he kissed your cheek, then the corner of your eyes “i can take my time with you-“ his lips moved to your nose then the corner of your lips “make you feel better than any boy” he finally kissed your lips slow and tender this time. “f-fuck do something with your hands” he growled which came out more as a needy whine “princess-” he spoke between kisses. he guided your hand up to his shoulders, and god you learned quick, feeling him up. he nearly lost it, your movements were just as sweet as the tarts you gave him. you clearly had zero experience given how messy and uncoordinated your movements were but it made you more addicting.

and he whined, “i’m so addicted to you- your little smile- your soft voice” his lips moved down your neck, lifting your chin up with his hand to give himself more access“so delicate, so sweet—taste just like the strawberry tarts” he kissed at the base of your neck… “you sure you’ve gotten kissed like this before?” he smirked against your neck as he lavished it with kisses. you shook your head weakly “n-no just a small—mmgh���peck here and there” you spoke breathlessly, you could feel your knees almost giving out if it wasn’t for the help of the counter. “such a innocent little girl” he bit down softly against your skin, leaving a nice heart shaped bruise on you “you need a real man mhm? someone who can treat you right?” he said softly looking up at you through his messy hair, all you could do was nod because—like him. you found yourself addicted to this sweet feeling.

“mm—soobin—“ you whined as he sucked deeply into your neck “can we be our own little secret?” he hummed in response, legs slotted between yours.

he lifted his head up to rest against your forehead, he exhaled. huffing a hot breath onto your face “mmhm—you can be my little secret, my little sweet treat hm?” he kissed your nose “mm-“ he swallowed “you taste so sweet i just want to spoil you rotten” he kissed your nose again.

you smiled wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “i can take the weight off your shoulder—be good for you” you smiled again, he really loved that smile. it felt so sinful how desperate and needy it made him feel when you flashed your eyes up at him like that, so innocently.

you were working in the back of the coffee shop, preparing the next batch of pastries—when you were told you had someone waiting for you, when you stepped out front you saw soobin. his stoic behavior crumbling as soon as your soft eyes lit up.

“binnie!” you smiled widely running to hug him, using a nickname you’d came up with.

he couldn’t help but let a breathy gasp out from your cute reaction. “mm hows my little sweet tart doing” he spoke softly as he kissed your nose.

-

-

ˋ°•*⁀➷ @lwriina

a/n : please please please reblog or comment if you liked~ also if you have any fic requests please send them my way!! ^^🤎

[yuriririnnie]

baby, baby, baby 𓂃🧸۶ৎ ˚ʚɞ˚ l.h.

exboyf idol!heeseung x youngmom!reader

length: 12.1k

contains: angst, hurt/comfort, abandonment issues, second chances, gaining back trust, ot7 hangouts, lots of teasing (of reader and heeseung), flirting, slow burn, co-parenting, mild explicit language, therapist jungwon, happy ending

warnings: none really... mentions of young single mom and absent father

synopsis: you never planned on seeing Heeseung again, let alone with another man's child on your hip. but when a run-in at the grocery store turns into an evening at your messy, toy-strewn apartment, you're forced to face everything you left unsaid. you're not the same girl he left behind all those years ago, and he's not the same guy that did the leaving. so where does that leave you now?

the question: how much are you willing to bet on second chances? the answer: everything.

⤷ chuu's 💌 ── .✦ finally posting this monster oh my god. this was meant to be a <1k word oneshot, but turned into a full-on fic. excuse me and my indulgences, i just have daddy issues and am in love with lee heeseung. 

⤷ 💌 i edited this a ton and added like 1000 words cuz i needed more hehe so enjoy!

——

You cursed under your breath as your shopping bags began to slip through your fingers. From your hip, Hana fussed unhappily, tiny hands clawing at your face as you struggled to adjust your grip on her.

“S’cuse me,” A woman said, giving you an annoyed glance as she stepped around you. The others behind you made sounds of frustration as you struggled to wrangle your babbling child and groceries out of the store’s entrance.

“Would you mind getting out of the way?” A man asked impatiently as one of your bags slipped.

“I’m sorry,” You said, face burning with embarrassment.

Hana began to cry, her tiny body impossibly strong as she twisted in your arms, trying to escape your grasp.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, pushing past you.

You bit your lip, hair falling in your face to hide the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Everything was so hard. Ever since your ex had moved out, you’d had no one to help you.

No one to stay up with Hana when she was fussy, no one to entertain her so you could sneak a quick shower in, no one to get groceries while you washed, and fed, and tended to her.

Your parents were a state away, your friends busy with work or travel—none with kids of their own. No one who understood what you were going through. Standing in the doorway of the grocery store, you felt, for the first time since Hana's father left, the true gravity of how alone you both were.

Another exasperated sigh came from behind you as Hana began to cry in earnest, her shrill voice piercing the air of the store.

“Should’ve left her at home with dad,” An older woman said, tsking as she stepped around you. “New moms these days, thinking they can do it all on their own. That kind of attitude kills marriages, you know."

You opened your mouth to defend yourself—to tell her that you couldn't kill a marriage that didn't exist, to even just curse back at her—when the paper bag you’d managed to hold onto split open, the contents spilling out onto the floor.

“For fuck’s sake,” A man said, shoving past you. His shoulder caught yours, knocking you off balance.

Hana’s weight threw you off-kilter, and you stumbled to the ground, holding her tiny wriggling body to your chest.

You wanted to cry.

Beside you, someone stooped to the ground, hastily grabbing the groceries that had fallen out of your bag. You looked up, the apology already forming on your mouth. As your eyes landed on them, the words died in your mouth. 

Heeseung.

Your heart skipped. 

He didn’t say anything as he gathered the rest of your things, giving you a hand up. His eyes were glued to the squirming toddler in your arms. 

With your groceries collected, you were able to step to the side, Heeseung’s hand still on your arm. The customers who’d gathered behind you filed past, one man glaring at you as he did. 

“Finally,” He muttered. 

Heeseung’s head snapped in his direction. “Fuck off,” He shot back. Then, looking from Hana to you, he chuckled nervously. “Sorry.”

You were speechless.

How long had it been since you’d seen him? Three years? Three years since he boarded the jet that had carried him out of your life forever. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday—ENHYPEN was going on tour, he wasn't sure when he'd be back, or when he'd have time for you again. The group had just started to take off. This was the big break, he’d said. The one that would start the rest of his life.

Going with him was out of the question. Long distance was brutal. Fans were possessive of their favorite members, and a girlfriend was a risk that management couldn't afford. It took all but a few hours for him to be cut from your life. Gone. Erased. Entirely. 

And now, here he was. Lee Heeseung, the great heartbreak of your life, standing in the middle of your friendly neighborhood grocery store, eyes darting back and forth between you and the one-year-old clinging to your hip. 

Hana made a noise, reaching a hand out at him curiously. He glanced at her, his expression softening. He smiled as he leaned forward, cooing gently while she fiddled with the earring that dangled from his ear.

Your chest tightened.

“Here,” He said, taking the bags from your hands. “Where did you park?”

——

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Heeseung said quietly as he put the last of your things into your car.

He looked just as you remembered him—tall, handsome, soft-faced, and even softer-voiced. He carried a bag of his own, full of items that sent you back to your school days with him—glossy packages of instant ramen, cling-wrapped kimbap, and those energy drinks he always liked.

You tore your eyes from them, trying to shake the memories of late nights in his dorm from your mind.

“No,” You said, meeting his eyes. God, his eyes. Just as deep and intense as you remembered them. “I should be thanking you. Back there,” You gestured awkwardly, “I was… It’s been a long day.”

His eyes darted to Hana again. You could practically see the question forming on his lips, but he was still the Heeseung you knew, far too polite to outright ask.

“Hana,” You said, smiling at the pink-faced toddler in your backseat. "She's one," You added quickly, watching for his reaction.

He nodded, his expression conflicted, like he was working through his thoughts. “I didn’t know…” He said slowly, looking back at you.

“I know. I… didn’t want you to,” You admitted. “You had a lot going on."

His face dropped. “Y/n, I want you to know, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” You said simply, looking down. “You had a life to live. Dreams to chase.” You smiled at him, genuine, although something deep in your heart had begun to ache, starting the moment you’d locked eyes with him. “I was always proud of you for going."

“I shouldn’t have left like that. I know you wanted me to go, and I’m glad I did, but I…” His fingers toyed with the strings of his bag nervously. “…I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

You shook your head, pushing the memories away. “Don’t worry about it. Water under the bridge.”

From the car, Hana began to cry again. It was well past her dinnertime, which meant she’d be inconsolable until you got her home and into her high chair, which was… still broken.

You bit back a curse, remembering that you’d needed to run to the store to replace it today. A week of trying to feed her without it had proven nearly impossible. Especially now that you were alone.

You turned back to Heeseung, trying not to feel disappointed that reality was sweeping you two apart again. What was that phrase? Right person, wrong time? Well, this was two for two.

“Anyways," You said. "Thank you. Seriously. I was losing it in there.”

“You headed home now?” He asked, looking between you, as if trying to keep the conversation going. Hanna was bawling, fists clenched angrily.

You nodded, pulling a snack pack from your bag and tearing it open, hoping it’d be enough to satiate her until you got home. If you could get her fed, maybe you’d have time to take care of all the other things that were piled on your to-do list.

There were dishes waiting for you, and sticky counters, and laundry. So much laundry. The light in your room had gone out and needed replacing, but you barely had enough time to sleep there, let alone perform a maintenance job on it.

You sighed out a tired laugh, rubbing your face with your hand. “Um, yeah. She needs to be fed and put to sleep, and there’s some housework stuff. You know, never a boring day,” You joked half-heartedly.

Heeseung hummed. Then, hesitantly, asked, "Where’s her dad?”

The question knocked the wind out of you.

He gazed at you curiously, a hint of concern in his eyes. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably. This was the one thing you didn’t want coming up.

The baby? Sure. Your embarrassing moment in the store? Fine. Even the state of your hair and clothes, covered in stains and baby powder and spit-up, whatever.

But the fact that you were alone, that the person you’d chosen to father your child was nowhere to be found, that stung in the back of your throat. Nothing had changed. You were still the one being left behind. 

Heeseung read the look on your face. “Oh,” He said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, not sure if you could take the awkwardness of this conversation any longer. “But, yeah, I should go. I have… a lot to do at home. Everything’s on her schedule these days.”

“Can I help?”

You felt your breath catch for a second time. “What?” You laughed nervously.

Heeseung nodded at your groceries and at the squawking baby in the back seat. “Can I help you? We’re on break. Been doing pretty much nothing but sitting around the house, gaming all day. I’ll come over.”

“Heeseung…” You started, images of your messy baby-proofed home springing to mind. As if he needed to see any more of the disheveled single mom life. “You don’t have to do that, really, you’ve helped enough—”

“Y/n, we've known each other for a long time. I can tell you’re up to your neck right now. I want to help,” He said earnestly. “Will you let me?”

You held your breath, searching his face for some clue as to what this meant for you two. Ten minutes ago, you had no idea he was even back home. And now... he was asking for a step back into your life.

The inside of your cheek stung as you chewed on it. Finally, you sighed. "What the hell. Fine. Here, let me write down my address for you."

There, at the corners of his eyes, you caught it. That glimpse of joy in his expression, of hope. It confused the fuck out of you, but you just waved to him, climbing into your car and wondering what this meant for you.

——

It was practically impossible to walk across your house without tripping over one of the toys that littered the ground. There were dishes all over the kitchen counters, soup stains on the wall behind Hana’s highchair where she'd thrown her spoon, dirty laundry spilling out of your closet and across the floor.

Heeseung didn't seem to care at all.

In fact, the only thing he seemed to care about was your daughter. Her small fists, the rosy color of her cheeks, the bubbling sound of her laughter. You'd known Heeseung liked kids—you'd talked about having them once—but what you didn't know was how much they loved him.

He and Hana hit it off immediately, faster than you'd ever seen her take to anyone before.

Without a high chair, you’d been struggling to find the best way to keep her stationary long enough to feed her. Heeseung, however, only propped her on his leg, one hand around her stomach, the other holding her plastic pink Hello Kitty spoon.

It was like magic.

No crying, no spitting. No throwing or hitting. You watched in wonder as she sat there, hands resting on his forearm. The perfect little angel you always bragged about back in full swing.

Her preoccupation with him gave you a chance to not only make her dinner, but get her pajamas out and set up her bath for later. It was the most you'd managed to get done in a single hour in weeks.

Having Heeseung there wasn’t just helpful, it was... overwhelming. His presence filled your senses—the smell of his cologne intermingled with Hana's baby lotion, the feeling of him moving around the kitchen behind you, his voice mixing with her giggling nonsense in the living room.

It was intoxicating. It was dangerous. Because part of you wished—had always wished—desperately and against all reason, that this was what your everyday looked like.

You tried to dissuade that wish as you bent over the kitchen sink, elbow deep in soapy water and dirty dishes. Heeseung came in from the dining room, holding Hana's little bowl and matching spoon in one hand, her bib in the other.

"All done," He said, placing them on the counter. "Finished the whole thing." He sounded proud. It made your chest tighten.

"That girl sure can eat," You said lightly, grabbing the dishes and submerging them under water.

"Mmm, just like her mom, then," He joked.

Being there with him, joking with him, it stirred something in you. Something you'd spent a long time trying to forget. Your throat closed as he came up behind you, dry hand sliding over your soapy one.

"What—" You started, but he was already pulling the bowl from your hands, nudging you out of the way.

"I got this. Go finish up with her."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, ignoring the fluttering sensation that crawled up your throat. He was helping, just like he said he would. It was meaningless.

Still, the feeling of his palm on the back of your hand had your heart stuttering.

In the solitude of the bathroom, you rested your chin on your hand, watching as Hana dunked her plastic horse under the soapy bathwater. She held it up to you, babbling through the bubbles on your face.

You sighed. "What d'you think? Should we let him stick around?"

She slammed her horse back into the water with a squeal, sending water over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah,” You muttered, half to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

You looked over at yourself in the mirror, leaned against the edge of the bathtub, your clothes and hair damp from your daughter’s splashing. So different from the girl that Heeseung had left behind all those years ago. The one he once swore he’d come back for.

You felt childish for even remembering that. Everything was different now. He could have anything he wanted. The girls around him were exactly what you weren’t, what you’d stopped being the moment you found out you were pregnant. They might have been your age, but they weren't saddled with motherhood.

You, on the other hand, would never be able to escape it again.

All anyone seemed to talk about with you was the baby. How old she was now, if she’d started talking yet, how well-behaved she was.

Even running into Heeseung, the first thing he looked at was her. It was like watching yourself fade from existence, all trace of what once made you you vanishing into nothingness. 

You weren’t fun. You weren’t spontaneous. Not anymore. Motherhood had drained you of all that youthful vitality Heeseung had once loved so much about you. You felt bland. Boring. Nothing to call your own except for your daughter, who seemed to be the most interesting part of your life nowadays. 

Looking at Hana now, you knew there was no way that Heeseung was going to make a permanent return to your life, not when there was a child involved.

And yet.

And yet, Heeseung was still around when you were done with Hana’s bath. 

He’d finished the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. He’d put the rest of your groceries away and tossed all of Hana’s toys back in their bin. He even took the trash out, and was offering to fix the light in your room when you stopped him.

“Are you gonna make me kick you out?” You said, hands on your hips.

The corners of his mouth quirked, his brow lifting. “You really are someone’s mom, huh?”

“Heeseung.”

“Come on,” He laughed, “I’m already here, I might as well fix it. You really want me to go?”

No, of course you didn’t. Of course, you wanted him to stay and help you with your light, and fix your leaky shower head, and make your daughter laugh herself all the way to sleep.

Of course, you wanted him to find a million other things to help you with, and to let you keep imagining what life would be like if he were to be there. To really, truly be there.

What, were you supposed to say no to all that?

By the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Hana was dozing off in Heeseung’s arms, her cheek flat against his shoulder.

You watched from the kitchen doorway, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of them. He swayed slightly, bouncing up and down with a hand to her back.

No one held her like that. Not even her dad. He’d wanted almost nothing to do with her. The diapers, the crying, the mess. He’d decided enough was enough before she was even born. But Heeseung…

“She’s incredible,” He said, glancing back at you. His face was soft, shoulders relaxed. It looked almost like she was as comforting to him as he was to her, with her hand wrapped around the fabric of his shirt.

Your throat was tight. “She is. Takes after me, you know,” You joked, trying to ease the effect that this scene was having on you. Your face was warm.

He chuckled, pursing his lips as she stirred gently. After a moment, he said, “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

You leaned against the doorframe. “It wasn’t something I wanted you to hear from someone else.”

“Yeah,” He said. “Still.”

Still.

He finally looked up at you, and you saw it—how much he was holding back. How hard this was hitting him, all at once. Sure, it had been a long time, but the emotions on his face were like a second language to you. You could read them in your sleep.

“I’m not asking for anything,” You said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I’m not—bringing you here because I want something from you.”

“I know,” He said. But he kept holding Hana anyway, and when you laid her down in her room for the night, he was still in the living room, waiting for you.

“You do all this on your own?” He asked, keeping his voice low.

“Every day.”

“You’re amazing,” He whispered.

“Thanks,” You laughed.

He followed you into the kitchen. “I always knew you’d be a good mom.”

The comment sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“What?”

“Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you that?”

You stared at him. “No.”

“I’m sure I did.”

“I think I’d remember if you did. So, no.”

He flashed that smile, the one that used to make you weak in the knees. Still made you weak in the knees. “Then I was an idiot.”

You scoffed, eyeing him skeptically. “Whatever. My house is a mess, and I have literally no social life. Look at me, I’m covered in baby food, and I’m not even the one who fed the baby.”

“Yeah, well,” He shrugged, that stupid smile on his face. “You make anything look good.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re making fun of me.”

He gasped. “What? No, I’m just a very supportive friend who happens to know that you manage to make everything look sexy, even being covered in baby food.”

Friend.

“Heeseung.” You used to be the love of my life. 

“What!” He grinned. “You’re the one who keeps blushing.”

“I am not blushing.”

He shook his head as he laughed, the sound light and pure. “I missed you. God, I missed you a lot.”

You tensed.

“That first year of tour was hell,” He reminisced, leaning back against your counter. “We hardly slept, or ate, or got any moments to ourselves. It was just go, go, go. All day, every day.” He glanced at you. “But being away from you was by far the worst part.”

“Whatever,” You said quietly. There was a lump in the back of your throat.

He hovered as you finished putting the dry dishes away in your cupboard. “It was hard without you there. You know, you’re the reason I debuted in the first place. Because you believed in me.”

Did you ever believe in me? You wanted to ask. Lingering resentment was seeping from the back of your mind, coloring those happy memories a shade darker. How was it so easy for you to leave me?

“It was hard looking out for everyone without you there,” He chuckled. “You always made that part easier. That’s how I know.” 

“Know what?” You said, eyes on the plates in your hands. 

“That you’d make a good mom. You were already halfway there with me.”

You froze. “Heeseung,” You said slowly, “Don’t.”

“What? I’m just saying—”

“No, you’re not. You’re flirting.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Is that illegal now?”

You stared at him. “We can’t do this.”

His smile faltered, just slightly. Enough that you knew he’d heard the part you didn’t say aloud: Not again. I can’t do this again.

“I’m not trying to mess anything up,” He said quietly.

“But you do, Heeseung. You walk in, and you smile, and she adores you, and then what? You go back to your life, and we’re left here pretending this never happened? I’ve been there, done that, okay? And I can’t— I won’t let it happen again.”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

“Look, I get it. You were gone for a long time. Being back home carries a lot of weight, I’m sure. But you can’t…” You looked at him, chest aching. “You can’t just come in here and make me feel like nothing’s changed when it has. I mean, look around. I have a kid now. I can’t— I’m not like you. Not anymore.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, a look of hurt flashing behind his eyes.  

You ran your hand over your hair anxiously. It was late, you were exhausted, and you were letting your emotions get the better of you. You knew you should stop talking and just send him home, but you couldn’t.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” You said. “You get to pack up and travel the world, do whatever you want, meet whoever you want. I don’t. That ended for me the second I had her.”

“Y/n,” He frowned, but you cut him off.

“I thought…” Tears pricked behind your eyes. “I thought that maybe things would just be a little different. That I’d still get to—” You caught your breath, the weight of everything you’d gone through rising suddenly, knocking the breath from your lungs. “And then it ended all over again. When her dad left.” 

You saw the way his face hardened, a look you hadn’t seen in years. Hurt. Angry. Protective. 

“I’m alone, Heeseung,” You whispered. 

“That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s not! You have me—”

“Then where were you!?”

His face fell. You didn’t want him to see you cry, but you were dangerously close. Being near him, seeing that god forsaken look in his eyes, like he was angry with himself, it killed you. 

“I didn’t know,” He said quietly. “If I had—”

“You would have, what? Cancelled your tour? Come racing home to help your ex with some other guy’s baby? That’s not true and you know it.” 

“I would have found a way to be there for you.”

“Really? You could have called. Once, even. You could have checked up on me, but you didn’t. You packed your things and you left. That’s all anyone ever does, is pack up and disappear.”

“Don’t, y/n. It’s not the same thing. I never would have left you with our kid like that,” He said seriously.

Our kid. The words seemed to burrow into your chest, curling up around the part of you that was still so angry, so hurt, so betrayed. 

“No,” You said bitterly, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeve. “You just left me. Not as big a deal, right?”

He flinched, those big, sad eyes of his wincing painfully.

You knew it wasn’t fair. You knew you were being cruel now, prodding a wound that was clearly still open in both of you, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted, just once, for someone to tell you that you were worth fighting for, that the way he and Hana’s dad had both abandoned you wasn’t your fault. That you weren’t defective. Disposable. 

Heeseung held your gaze, brows creased. “I deserved that,” He finally said.

You looked away, jaw clenched. 

He took a step toward you, slow, like he was scared you might push him away. “You’re right, I did. I left. I let you believe that I didn’t care about you. I thought… walking away would make things easier. That it would hurt less, instead of dragging it out, making you wait for me. You had a life of your own waiting. I couldn’t do that to you,” He reasoned. “And look at you! You brought a kid into the world, y/n. You never needed me, or anyone else. You’re strong.”

“I’m not,” You argued. 

“You are,” He said firmly. 

You shook your head, arms tightening around yourself. “I’m not strong. I’m surviving. That’s not the same thing.”

Heeseung didn’t argue this time. He gave you an apologetic look, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to come here and upset you. I wanted… I really did want to help, y/n.”

“You have,” You said, not meeting his eyes. It was hard to speak without your voice shaking, and you didn’t want him to see you cry. 

His voice softened, gaze dropping to the floor. “I know I can’t change the past. And you don’t trust me. But we’re back home until the next album’s finished.”

Your chest tightened. So, he was sticking around. Great, you thought to yourself. Just what you needed on top of everything else you had going on. 

“If you need me, you can call me. You know that, right?”

You said nothing. Heeseung got his things and left, mumbling apologies as the door closed behind him. You had to catch your breath against the doorframe as the sound of his car faded down the street. 

Here you were again. Watching the door swing closed behind him, wishing you were brave enough to ask him to stay. 

That night, you went into Hana's room and curled up in the chair beside her crib. Looking at her—the soft fat of her cheeks, the way her tiny chest rose and fell so steadily without a care in the world—was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely. 

You watched her silently, the occasional rogue tear slipping down your cheek. Three years worth of emotions had bubbled up to the surface, crashing over you like a tidal wave of memories and regret. The house was empty again. You were alone. 

For the first time, you confronted the hard truth you’d been trying to ignore: no one was coming to save you. You were on your own.

——

Heeseung must have looked upset, because the moment he got back to the dorm, the others were on him.

“Where were you?” Sunoo asked, looking up from his game.

Beside him, Jay, Sunghoon, and Jungwon were sprawled on the couch. Jake watched from the floor, stretched out on his stomach. Niki was curled up in the chair, half asleep. 

“Nowhere,” Heeseung mumbled, kicking his shoes off. 

“You look like shit,” Jay said bluntly.

“Thanks.” 

“I thought you were just stopping at the store?” Jake turned to look at Heeseung over his shoulder. “Geez, you really do look terrible.”

Jungwon looked at him curiously. “Are you okay?”

Heeseung’s mind was still spinning. He could barely form a coherent thought, let alone answer their questions. He brushed them off, wanting nothing more than to disappear into his room in solitude. 

But these were his group members, his best friends, and they always knew when something was wrong. They switched the game off and trailed after Heeseung as he made his way to his room, shoving his door open. It bounced against the wall loudly. 

Heeseung winced, dropping onto his mattress. His body felt worn, his mind foggy, like he’d spent all day on stage instead of laughing with you in your kitchen. He still couldn’t believe he’d spent the day with you. In fact, he could hardly believe anything about what had happened. 

There were no words to describe what Heeseung had felt, seeing you again for the first time. It was like every one of his senses dialed in on your figure crouched in the door, your hair falling over your shoulders. His throat had closed, his fingers curling into his palms by his side. 

His heart had nearly leapt out of his chest completely. 

And then, there was Hana. 

He hoped he didn’t look as surprised as he’d felt, but he knew the chances were small. You’d always been able to read his emotions. You’d been the one to ask him out, after all—sick and tired of how painfully obvious his feelings for you were. No one else had ever came close to understanding him the way you did, not even the guys.

You probably saw right through his easy attitude, straight to the heart of his reaction: seeing you with Hana had scared him shitless. 

He pressed a hand to his face. I’m never offering to go to the store for the others ever again, he thought hopelessly.

Jungwon appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. The others poked their heads out from behind, waiting for him to say something first. Jungwon might have been younger, but he was their leader, through and through. 

He always knew what each member needed in moments like these. For Heeseung, it was space. And time. Jungwon just stood there for a while, not saying anything. 

Heeseung’s voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I saw y/n.”

More silence. 

He hadn't talked about you in a long time, mostly because it brought his mood down every time someone so much as mentioned your name. Years later and he was still upset about the way you'd left things. 

And now he knew that you were, too.

“I ran into her at the store,” He continued. “Her bag had ripped so her stuff was everywhere, and people were getting pissed.” Fucking assholes. “I couldn’t just— turn the other way, pretend I didn’t know her.”

No one argued with that, but Heeseung still felt the back of his neck go red. 

"So I went up to her. I helped her grab her things. She..." He trailed off. "We went back to her's after." 

Jake shoulders dropped, looking relieved. "So, what's with the long face? Haven't you been dreaming about this since, like, we left?" 

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re back here,” Jay smirked. “She didn’t want you to stay the night?”

"She has a kid." 

That shut them up. 

She has a kid. The words sounded foreign in Heeseung's ears. He still hadn't fully wrapped his head around it. The girl he’d been hung up on for years was a mom.

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up. “Like.. has has?”

Heeseung nodded. “A little girl. Her name’s Hana.” 

“So that means she’s…”

“Single,” Heeseung said incredulously, falling backwards onto his mattress. The entire situation was mind boggling. “Hana’s dad isn’t around. Not sure why. All I know is that it was sudden. He just packed up one day and… left.” 

Just like I did, He thought bitterly. God, he’d made a number of mistakes throughout his life, but that had to be the worst of them all. 

“Damn,” Jungwon said under his breath. “That’s a lot.”

Sunghoon shifted his weight anxiously. “How did she seem?” 

Heeseung swallowed. “Tired. She looked so tired. And sad. I could see it in her eyes, even though she was trying not to show it.”

“She didn’t ask for anything?” Jake asked.

“No. She doesn’t want anything from me. She made that pretty clear.” Heeseung dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to do. I thought I’d moved on, or at least that I was done holding onto her. But seeing her like that…” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “It’s like everything I’ve been trying to forget just—came back all at once.”

Jungwon finally stepped into the room, going to sit beside Heeseung. The others trailed in after him. It was crowded with all of them there, but Heeseung was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that they were with him. That he didn’t have to spend the night alone with his thoughts.

Like you were now. He thought of you alone in that house, working through the motions of your reunion by yourself. It made his chest ache.  

“Shouldn’t have left her,” He mumbled, mostly to himself. 

“Are you going to see her again?” 

“I don’t know,” He mumbled. “We argued. I think she doesn’t want to believe I could ever be there for her. That I’m just going to leave again.” His throat tightened. “I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”

“Are you?”

“I— no, I don’t want to. But she’s afraid to trust me. And I’m scared, too! What if she’s right? She’s always right. I don’t wanna cause her more trouble…” 

Now that he was talking, he couldn’t stop. The others listened intently, nodding along, humming sounds of understanding. 

“I’m scared that the more I try to get closer to her, the further I’m going to push her away. She has enough shit going on in her life right now. I don’t want to add to that. But I can’t just let her be. Not when I know she’s too proud to ask anyone else for help.” 

“No, not y/n.” Sunoo hid a laugh behind his hand. “That girl would rather die than rely on anyone else. She’s always preferred to figure it out on her own.”

“I know. I don’t want to fuck up her life anymore than I already have.” 

“Hey, at least you’re not the asshole who knocked her up,” Jay said lightly.

Heeseung bit his lip, suddenly worried he was going insane.

Worried because the smallest part of him almost wished that he was. He would have never left you alone. And… Well, he’d always liked the idea of you with his kids. He meant what he said earlier—if anyone was going to make a good parent, it was you. 

A baby would have killed his career for sure, but… he almost preferred that to the idea of you struggling through parenthood alone. 

“So what are you going to do?” Jungwon asked. 

“I don’t know,” Heeseung sighed, sitting up. “What if I try to be there for her, and I make things worse? What if she’s right not to trust me? I don’t want to—” He ran his hands through his hair anxiously. “I can’t hurt her again. I’d rather never see her again than have that happen.” 

Jungwon pursed his lips, thinking. “It is true that you’ll have to leave again when the next album is finished.”

The others nodded, murmuring in agreement.

“Tour life isn’t exactly fit for a kid.”

“There’s always the chance that people find out about you two.”

“You’d have to be apart for a long time.”

Jungwon nodded. “But… do you love her?”

Heeseung’s face went red. “What?”

“Quit acting embarrassed. We had to listen to you go on about her for a year straight after we left. I think you can tell us if you’re still in love with her.”

He pursed his lips and frowned, mulling the question over. Was he still in love with you? 

Who was he kidding, of course he was. How else could he explain the way the world seemed to blur when he caught sight of you in the store? How his body was moving to help you before he even had time to think about it?

Heeseung was in love with you. As in love with you as he was the day he left. Why else had he spent all day at your house doing chores, enjoying every minute? The way you moved around each other, the sound of Hana’s voice responding to yours, the way he could see pieces of you in her. God, he’d only known that girl for a day but he was already feeling protective of her.

Of both of you. 

He sighed. “Yes… I do. I am.” He pressed his thumb into his palm, where he’d brushed the back of your hand. “I really missed her,” He mumbled. “But I’m scared to mess everything up. Again.”

 “You’re not gonna do that,” Sunghoon said, leaning against the wall. 

“Yeah, come on. I’ve never seen you make the same mistake twice.”

“Thanks,” He muttered, still unable to shake his fears. 

“If you really love her, you’ll find a way to make it work,” Jungwon assured him. 

Hearing that brought a small amount of relief to Heeseung’s anxiety, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?” He asked quietly.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic. If she doesn’t want to see you, she’ll tell you. Did she?”

“No… not explicitly…” 

“Then you still have a chance. Don’t screw it up.” 

Heeseung chuckled lightly, feeling slightly better. “I’ll try not to.”

“Screw your feelings, we miss having her around,” Sunghoon joked. 

“Yeah, I wanna meet this kid,” Jake said eagerly. “If she’s anything like y/n, she’ll fit in just fine with us.”

Niki hummed in agreement. “Yeah, we never agreed to your break up.” 

“Mm. Very inconsiderate of you,” Jay said. 

Heeseung laughed, for real this time. He felt his chest untighten for the first time in hours, his shoulders dropping, his jaw unclenching. God, he was grateful for his friends. They were right. 

Heeseung had been losing his mind over what he should do when there was really only one option in front of him: to prove to you how serious he was about you. Whether or not you were able to fix things between you two, that didn’t matter to him. 

All he cared about was showing you that you could trust him. That you weren’t alone in this, no matter how long you’d spent believing otherwise. 

Seeing you today confirmed what he’d known the second he’d left all those years ago: you were the only one for him. And meeting Hana—feeling the warmth of her against his chest, smelling your perfume on her skin, noticing the way her lips curved up in the same shape that yours did—it was the final nail in the coffin. 

His life would never be complete without you in it, one-year-old and all.

——

Heeseung’s reappearance in your life didn’t happen immediately.

In fact, it was a few weeks before you heard from him again. Lost in the throes of trying to find a babysitter so that you could pick up an extra shift at work, his text was left buried in calls from your landlord and notices about upcoming bills.

Heeseung Are u busy this weekend? I have some overexcited friends who are anxious to meet that baby of yours.

It sat unanswered for a day. 

You didn’t know it, but every single one of the 24 hours that passed before you got back to Heeseung was like knives in his skin. The day dragged by, long and torturous, as he sank deeper and deeper into the belief that maybe he’d been wrong, and you didn’t want to hear from him after all. 

He was relieved when his phone buzzed on his desk, your name popping up on his screen for the first time in three years. 

Y/N Oh god.

Y/N Are u really gonna bring them over here??

Heeseung Not if you’re not okay with it.

Y/N It’s not that I’m not okay with it. it’s just… weird

Y/N Never thought I’d be introducing your group members to my kid.

Heeseung Definitely weird.

Heeseung Always figured they’d meet ours first but this works too.

Y/N Heeseung.

Heeseung What? Just saying.

Y/N 🙄

Heeseung I’ll be good. I promise. Saturday?

He chewed the edge of his nail as he watched his screen, heart racing at the base of his throat. Your text came in and he couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. 

Y/N Yeah right.

Y/N See you then.

You had precious little time to clean up before they got there. When you heard Heeseung’s knock at the door, you were part-way through clearing Hana’s things out of the living room. 

Sweaty, hair a mess, sticky toddler on your hip, you pulled the door open to a group of faces you hadn’t seen in years. 

The guys stood there for a second, taking you in. Sunoo was the first to break the silence, his face widening into a grin. “Wow,” he said, “Motherhood really does suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, your face warming as you shifted Hana on your hip. “Shut up, Sunoo.” 

Hana peeked out at them, fists clutching your shirt nervously. 

Jake’s eyes went wide as he crouched down, level with her. “Hi,” He said, his voice going soft. “You’re so cute, oh my god. Mind if we come in?”

Hana smiled shyly, burying her face in your shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess,” You said, stepping aside to let them in. “Can never seem to keep anything clean these days.”

“You should’ve called us,” Sunoo pouted. “We could’ve helped.”

“No way. You guys are busy enough as it is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay said. “You should see how these guys live”

“Oh, shut up, Jay. Your room is disgusting. I don’t know how you live in that filth.”

“My room is disgusting!? Should we talk about how you keep the living room—”

“Get out of the way!” Jungwon complained, pushing past them. 

Heeseung was the last to come in, messy-haired and bare-faced. He looked nervous, but his shoulders dropped when he caught sight of you.

He paused in the doorway. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah,” You said. “It’s fine. Just… don’t expect her to start doing tricks or anything.”

“Are you sure?” Sunghoon asked, peeking at Hana. “I heard kids can dance these days.”

“Please,” You scoffed. “She can barely get a spoon from her plate to her mouth.”

They laughed as they filed in, avoiding the toys that were scattered around the floor. For a moment, no one wanted to sit down. They crowded around you, pulling funny faces to make Hana laugh, reaching out to pinch her face. 

Heeseung hovered beside you, eyes flicking to yours. It felt good to have him close. You’d never had this many people in your house before, not since having Hana. His presence was steadying. Reassuring. 

You found yourself wanting to stick close to him as well. 

They followed you into the living room, pointing at the photos and finger-painting scribbles hung up on the walls. You noticed Heeseung from the corner of your eye, bending down to grab things from the floor as he went, tossing them into Hana’s toy chest the same way he had when he first came over. 

It was instinctual, that desire to help you, to take some of the load off your shoulders. Always had been. 

“How are you, y/n?” Jungwon asked, “Besides the cute baby and messy living room.”

“Um,” You sighed, “I’m… managing. Getting used to doing all this on my own. It’s hard but rewarding, too.” You smiled at Hana, pressing your lips to her head and breathing in the soft, sweet baby smell of her hair. “She makes it worth it.”

Your voice was easy, your face relaxed, but Heeseung could see the fatigue in your body. Your shoulders drooped, Hana’s weight sagging in your arms. 

Getting used to doing all this on my own. You’d never know how sad it made him to hear you say that. 

“I can’t imagine how tired you are,” Jake said, watching as Hana curled a hand around his finger.

You laughed lightly. “I definitely don’t sleep the way I used to. Or, at all, really,” You admitted. “You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since I’ve showered.” 

“I can see that,” Sunoo teased, gesturing at the myriad of stains across your shirt. “I like the baby food. It’s a good look on you.”

“Glad to know it’s working on you, jerk,” You said playfully. God, you missed having these guys around.  

“Do you want me to take her?” Heeseung asked. The question caught you by surprise. He seemed so easy about it, like it was something he did every day. “You can take a quick shower… if you want.”

“What? No way. You guys are friends, not my babysitters.”

“Not yet,” Niki said, leaning down to coo at Hana’s face. 

“Seriously, we don’t mind,” Heeseung insisted.  

You bit your lip sheepishly. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. We’re professionals.” Sunghoon said seriously. 

“I mean, we are terrible at music,” Jake added, “But picture books and stuffed animals? I think we got it.”

“Go,” Heeseung insisted softly. “We’re here. Let us help.”

You hesitated. It was such a small thing—showering, putting on a fresh t-shirt—but it felt huge. Like accepting their help would mean finally admitting just how worn out you were. 

There was also your protectiveness over Hana, too. You’d never left her with anyone but your parents before. It was why finding a babysitter had become such an ordeal—trusting anyone with your child took an incredible leap of faith.

But then you saw the look in Heeseung’s eyes. The hopeful, almost desperate need to do something for you. He held your gaze, steady, solid. 

As if in answer, Hana reached out for him, squirming away from your grasp. She’d always been good with faces, and he was wearing the same jacket he’d worn the first time he came over. She stretched towards the familiarity of his arms and you surrendered, allowing her to climb into them.

“She likes you,” Jungwon said, a big grin on his face. 

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, unable to hide the pride in his voice. “I like her, too.”

Seeing her in his arms again brought back the same feeling from before. The one that made you want to see Heeseung with your daughter all the time. 

They just looked so… at home together. Like Hana had known him since the start. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to wish that she had.

“All her toys are in there, and there’s snacks in the fridge if she gets fussy. If she gets really upset I’ve got a pacifier in her room—”

Heeseung nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up at your rambling. “She’ll be great.”

You sighed. “Okay, but if she starts crying—”

“We’ve got it,” Jay reassured you.

Sunoo shot you a wink. “Go on, mama. We’ll look after her.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and slipped down the hall, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that you had people in your corner. It was a good feeling.

——

“She sorta looks like you, Heeseung.”

“Oh, stop teasing him. He’s not gonna let us come back with him next time.”

“You’re so full of it. They don’t look anything alike.”

“She’s got a real Shin Min-a look to her. Old school.”

“She looks like her mom,” Heeseung said, only half-listening to what his idiot friends were debating about. 

His attention was mainly on the tiny human balanced on his thighs, her hands tangling in his hair. She was a stout little thing, skin slipping under the slippery fabric of her shirt as he kept a firm grip on her. 

A Laker’s jersey. Your guys’ favorite team. 

He took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions rising in him. Just being there—with Hana, with you—it was enough to make him crazy. He tried not to feel dizzy as Hana’s hands moved to his face.

“She missed you,” Jungwon said quietly, fidgeting with a plastic airplane in his lap. 

For a second, Heeseung thought he was talking about Hana, but no. He was talking about you.

Heeseung glanced at him. “You think so?”

“You should’ve seen the way she was looking at you when she opened the door.” 

Jay snickered at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Yeah, she was totally checking you out, man.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Niki chimed in, tossing a stuffed rabbit at Sunghoon. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”

Heeseung just shook his head. “She’s just… It’s been a long time.”

Jay shook his head. “Nah, man. You’re still important to her.”

“It’s obvious,” Sunoo agreed. “If Jay noticed it, it’s real.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Well, you’re not the most observant of people, are you?” He said, side-eyeing him.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. He hoped they were right.

——

The guys started coming around more often after that. They always insisted that they were restless at the dorm and liked having somewhere else to hang out, but you knew it was more than that. 

It became something of a tradition to have a big meal at yours at the end of the week, and as time passed, it became easier to rely on them. It felt good to have a kitchen full of noise, a table that wasn’t empty, a house that shook with laughter and music.

They’d bring bags of groceries over and cook these huge, chaotic dinners to share in your dining room. The kitchen was left a mess but they always cleaned up. 

Weeks went by and Heeseung stayed behind more and more often, tidying up the rest of the house with you, even helping to put Hana to bed. 

Despite your reservations, you liked having him there. You liked the way he’d come through your door unannounced, toting drinks for you and a snack for Hana in his bag. You liked the way he’d get up from the couch when he heard her fussing, and how the others teased him about it in front of you.

“Is that your baby now or what?” Jungwon would laugh, eyes flicking between you and Heeseung with that knowing look.

You’d turn red and Heeseung would just shake his head, smiling. 

Even in your hardest moments, he was still showing up for you. Providing you with the comfort and stability that you were trying so hard to give your daughter. You tried to remind yourself not to get too used to his support, but there was no denying it—it was easier to take care of Hana when there was someone taking care of you, too.

“I don’t know what to do,” You sighed, reaching down to pick her back up from her crib. Your phone was tucked between your cheek and your shoulder, Heeseung on the other end of the line. “I’ve tried everything. She just won’t settle.”

His voice came through rough and scratchy with sleep. It was late, and he probably should’ve been asleep hours ago, but you’d started calling each other. A lot. If he wasn’t there in person, he was on your speaker phone, talking to you and keeping Hana entertained. 

“Do you wanna try feeding her again?” He asked, yawning. 

“I’ve tried. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want anything.” You sighed as Hana let out another ear-piercing wail. Her face was red and blotchy from crying. It looked like another all-nighter for you. 

“Can you take her to your bed? I think she just doesn’t like being away from you.”

That was certainly true. Hana was getting clingier and clingier these days, spoiled by all her uncles constantly wanting to hold her. 

“I can’t, I’m scared that I’ll fall asleep,” You said. 

Countless horror stories about parents falling asleep with their babies in their bed had left you anxious to bring her to yours. It was moments like this that you wished her dad was there—that you had someone to take turns staying up with.

“I’ll let you go,” You sighed. “I’m gonna try walking her around the house or something, maybe another bath. Sleep well, okay?”

He hummed as you ended the call, the vibration tickling your ear through the phone. Almost like he was there with you. At least one of you would be able to get some sleep, you thought enviously as you pulled Hana to your chest. 

Only, ten minutes later there was a knock at your door. 

“Heeseung?” You stared at the man in your doorway. Hana scratched at your face as she wailed up at you. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “Wanted to make sure she was okay,” He said, as if that was a reasonable explanation for showing up at your house at 2 a.m.

“She’s fine,” You said, half-stunned as you shut the door behind him. 

Hana let out a disgruntled whine at not having your attention. You raised a brow at her, shaking your head. “You’re such a little drama queen. Look, you’re not even upset anymore.” 

It was true. Hana’s cries had slowed to a sniffle as she gazed at Heeseung with wide, glossy eyes. He held a hand out for her to grab onto.

“Had to make sure mom was okay, too,” He said quietly, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

You looked up at him, your chest tightening. His hair was a mess, poking out from under the hood of his sweatshirt. A rush of emotion washed over you at the sight of him, at the dark circles under his eyes, the tired smile on his mouth. The way he was trying—really trying—to be there for you both.

“You didn’t have to,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. 

God, even in his most sleep-deprived state he was gorgeous. Eyes burning into yours in the low light. His body hummed with that quiet power that had drawn you to him in the first place—that confidence, that steadfastness. How he seemed perfectly at ease no matter where he was or what he was feeling inside. 

Standing next to him, you felt slightly less exhausted. Like simply being around him was enough to energize you. 

“I know,” He said softly, “But I wanted to.” 

He stepped forward, hands slipping under Hana’s arms with a tenderness that made your heart sting. She let out a giggle as he lifted her up, hands smacking against his chest as he settled her against him.

“She’s always happier with you,” You said quietly. It wasn’t a complaint. Hana really was calmer around Heeseung, and that brought you a sense of peace that you weren’t quite sure how to explain. 

He looked at you, his expression softening. “She’s happier when you’re okay,” He murmured. “Come on, let’s try this again.”

Despite his best efforts, Hana was still unhappy in her crib. She clung to his arm as he tried to place her down, voice going up several octaves. You winced at the volume, grateful that you didn’t share walls with your neighbors. They’d have lost their patience hours ago. 

Heeseung didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even flinch as she shrieked, clawing at his hands in frustration. He just scooped her back up, resting her against his shoulder and muttering reassurances over her cries. 

You tried for an entire hour—walking her around the house, reading her favorite books and making sure to do all the funny voices, swaddling and unswaddling her, over and over and over. The best luck you had was in your room, like Heeseung had suggested, which both heartened and annoyed you at the same time. 

How were you supposed to deny a man with such good instincts? 

“You are so dramatic.” You shook your head as Hana hiccupped from your pillow, smiling like she’d never been crying in the first place. 

“I wonder where she gets it,” Heeseung said lightly, sitting down on the other side of her. 

You tried to stifle a yawn as Hana stretched out, both of your eyes drooping. 

Heeseung couldn’t help but smile at the both of you. He’d never met your ex—hadn’t even seen a picture—but he didn’t need to to know that Hana hardly took after him.

 Her smile, her mannerisms, that was all you. She was yours, through and through. 

“Come here,” He said, pulling Hana closer to him to make space for you to lay next to her. 

“I’ll fall asleep,” You protested. 

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Anyone else, and you would have said no. Anyone but him, and you’d have insisted they leave, resigning yourself to another brutal night of no sleep. 

But it was Heeseung. He propped himself up on one elbow, his arm curved over Hana’s head. 

You sighed in resignation as you settled in on the other side of her, your hand resting over her stomach gently. His hand came down to brush the hair away from your face. His fingers were soft against your temple, the same gentle touch that you used to love so much. 

Anyone else and you would have turned them away, but it was Heeseung, and he watched the two of you sleeping like you were the most precious things to him in the world. 

——

When you woke the next morning, the sun was peeking through your window, filtering through your blinds and washing your room in soft, white light. 

In front of you, Hana was still sound asleep, her fists clenched by her head. On the other side of her, Heeseung was there. Still on his side, shoulders curved inwards protectively. His arm was still stretched out above you both, his hand resting gently against your hair. He’d fallen asleep that way, holding you both like you were his to care for. His to protect. 

And waking up that morning, you realized that maybe you were. Maybe you wanted to be. You slipped out from under his hand, trying not to disturb either of them as you rolled the ache out of your shoulders. 

You padded into your kitchen, warm light spilling across the floor. Leaning against the counter, you finally admitted to yourself that you had a problem. 

Heeseung was doing it. He was making you believe.

You let out a breath. 

The nightly calls, the small gestures, the way Heeseung was there for you, it was working. Are you really falling for this? You thought stubbornly, trying to reason your way out of the way you felt about him. How much of it was real, anyways? And how much had you made up in your desire to have him close? Your mind screamed at you not to trust any of it. 

He was an idea. You didn’t need him. 

But you wanted him so bad. 

Your heart warred against this truth, desperate for something—anything—to convince yourself otherwise. But it wasn’t easy to do. The life he’d painted around you in just under a month was like something out of a dream. One you’d had before the baby, before the breakup, when you still felt like dreams like this had merit.

It was everything you’d ever wanted, and that made you suspicious. What reason did the universe have for giving this to you? When it had been so intent on taking things away? 

Your thoughts were interrupted as Hana came crawling into the kitchen, slapping her hands on the cool floor. Heeseung trailed in after, looking exceptionally tired with his hair sticking up in awkward places. He yawned, scooping Hana up with practiced ease and perching her against his chest. 

“Hey,” He said, bringing her over to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You took her grabbing hand in yours, kissing a good-morning into her hair. “Thanks to you. You’re so good with her,” You said, trying to keep your voice even. Your stomach was fluttering nervously. “I don’t know how you do it.” 

He shrugged, giving her a little bounce that sent her squealing with laughter. “It’s easy. She’s a charmer. Just like her mom.”

Your heart stuttered, and you looked away, fighting the stubborn burn in your chest. Heeseung saw it, though. He always saw it.

“I’m glad I came, y/n. Seriously. I slept great.”

“You slept terribly.”

“Alright, fine, I slept pretty badly, but it was worth it,” He insisted. “And I’d do it again. And again, and again, and again,” He laughed, nuzzling his face into her chest. “Can the guys come over today? Unless you want the day to yourself… I know we’ve been over a lot. I can go home if you want.”

Words could not describe how badly you wanted him to stay. “Yeah, of course. I like having you guys around.”

I like having you around, is what you should have said, but you didn’t have to say it for Heeseung to know what you meant. The smile on his face told you that he understood completely. 

It was already the beginning of the end for you when the other members came over and started teasing you both mercilessly. Weeks of hanging out at yours had made them bold—and it was clear that they wanted you to address what was going on between the two of you.

“Should we start packing your room up?” Sunoo asked, side-eyeing you both as he came in.

“You might as well just move in, bro,” Jay said, clapping his hand on Heeseung’s back.

You scoffed. “Yeah right, not until he starts paying rent.”

Jay smirked. “He’d do it.” 

“Shut up,” Heeseung mumbled, rolling his eyes.

Their banter might have embarrassed you once, but it felt natural now. The way they spilled into your living room, fighting over who got to hold Hana and which toys she wanted to play with more more—it was hard not to feel like this was how it had always been. 

You clung to whatever thin resolve you had left as you watched them all with your daughter. No matter how much you tried not to, your gaze always landed back on Heeseung. The way he lifted Hana into the air, blowing raspberries into her stomach until she was screeching with laughter. The way he handed her off to someone else and insisted on helping you get her lunch ready. 

Things between you and Heeseung became… different. 

It didn’t fluster you as much when the others teased you for being attached at the hip anymore. And you didn’t mind when he’d sit with his arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers brushing the back of your neck.

For every inch you gave, he seemed to take a mile. Eventually, it became commonplace for him to collapse on the couch right next to you, thigh brushing yours, arm stretched behind your shoulders.

The others stopped asking if Heeseung was leaving with them. They knew he’d choose to stay with you. 

“Are you just gonna stand there staring at me all night?” You asked, your back turned as you put your dinner leftovers into the fridge. You could feel his eyes on the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe.” He said, “I like watching you.”

“You’re insufferable.”

He smirked, eyes glinting. “You didn’t seem to mind earlier. When I put my arm around you on the couch, you didn’t move.”

Caught. 

“That was different,” You managed, keeping your voice even. He didn’t need to know how much of a rise that simple touch had gotten out of you. 

“Was it?” His voice was low as he came to lean against the counter beside you, arms crossed. “Felt pretty natural to me.”

Weeks passed and lines got blurrier. He touched you. A lot. Practically couldn’t keep his hands off of you—brushing a strand of hair from your face, a hand on your lower back, a stroke of his thumb against your temple. 

By the time you realized it was happening, that you were really, truly falling for him again, it was too late. 

Waking up with your head on his chest, Hana curled between you—it was too late. 

His arms resting on either side of you against the counter, his chest to your back as Hana sat on top of it—it was too late. 

His hand running back through your hair in front of everyone as he tried to find the scar you’d gotten from hitting your head on his dorm door all those years ago—it was too late.

As much as you tried to manage your affinity for him—remind yourself that he had always been friendly, that this was just a passing thing for him while he was bored at home—it was during your weekly dinner as a group that your feelings became impossible to deny any longer. 

You were in the kitchen, putting the dishes away when you heard a sharp crash from the other room—the sound of glass breaking.

Your heart skipped as you dropped the bowl you were holding and ran towards the living room. Someone had knocked a cup from the table, the shards spraying across the floor. 

Heeseung was on his feet in a second, scooping Hana up away from the broken pieces, stepping away as the others got up. 

You paused in the doorway, your breath catching as you watched him. The others stepped around him to clean up, bickering lightly about who was to blame, but Heeseung’s focus never wavered. He murmured something in Hana’s ear, pointing at the broken cup, bouncing her gently as they swept up the shards.

He looked up and caught your eye, and it was suddenly so clear. 

You’d been an idiot. 

Looking at Heeseung now, it was impossible for you to deny any longer. Heeseung loved you. How had you managed to convince yourself otherwise?

Old grudges rose in the back of your mind—he left you. he left like it was nothing, like everyone else does, and he’s going to do it again—but for the first time, you pushed them away with ease. 

They were words. 

And what use were words when there you had actions to prove them otherwise? 

Something about that moment, the way Heeseung had gone for Hana first, letting the others handle the mess while he made sure she was alright, made your doubts melt away. His first instinct wasn’t to scold whoever had knocked the glass over, or even to help clean it up.

It was to keep your daughter safe. 

You spent the rest of the day with a lump in the back of your throat, the awkward ache of all the things you wanted to say to him. He seemed to notice your change in attitude, that something was bothering you, and he stuck even closer than he usually did, stopping to ask you if you were okay multiple times.

“Will you stay behind?” You asked, glancing up at him. “After everyone goes.”

He looked surprised, but nodded. “Of course.”

The others eventually left again, wanting to go out for dinner. Heeseung promised he’d catch up with them but they just rolled their eyes, not believing him for a second. 

With the house empty again, it was impossible for you to dance around it anymore. 

Hana was down for her nap—eased to sleep by Sunghoon and Jake’s rendition of her favorite bedtime story. Heeseung was leaned against the counter, as if half-expecting you to say something. And your words sat heavy in your throat, aching to come out.

“You don’t know how much it means to me,” You murmured finally, looking up to meet his gaze, “Having you and the others here. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.” 

“You don’t have to make it up to us, y/n. We’re happy to help.” 

“No,” You said, shifting uneasily. “I dont know how I’ll make it up… to you.” 

His eyes widened slightly, but you went on before he could answer, afraid that if you didn’t talk now, you’d never be able to again.

“I know…” You started, cringing internally at how difficult this was for you. Your feelings were so strong, why was it so hard to explain them? “I know I was harsh on you when you came over the first time. You were being kind, and I got defensive. I’m not proud of how I behaved at all,” You admitted. 

“Y/n…”

You stopped him. “Just—let me finish.”

He closed his mouth, but you saw the anxious twitch of his brow.

“You didn’t have to come back. You didn’t owe us anything, not after the way we left things and definitely not after the way I spoke to you. But you did anyways.” You crossed your arms, feeling self-concious. “I didn’t think that I would ever have this again,” You said, gesturing at the things left over from their visit. “I really thought I was going to do this by myself. And that was fine, I’d made my peace with it, but now…”

You paused, your eyes flicking to the picture Hana had drawn with the others—a mess of scribbles that resembled a house, and a group of people standing in front of it. “Now it’s different. And that’s hard for me.”

Heeseung swallowed, as if gathering every ounce of his strength to keep his voice steady. “It’s okay if… if you don’t want me here, y/n.” He held your gaze bravely, but you could tell the idea hurt him. “If this is too much, if you’d rather… I can go—”

“I don’t want you to go.”

He blinked, startled. 

“I know I’ve been guarded, and I’ve been pushing you away. But… but seeing you with her, and with me—it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed you.”

Heeseung’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you. You almost smiled. He was so reserved, hands clenched at his sides, braced for what you were going to say. 

“I know I talk a big talk but… I don’t want to do this alone, not if you’re willing to be here. Not if you’re willing to… to be with us. I don’t want you to go.”

“You don’t want me to go.” He said it slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. 

You bit your lip, laughing a little bit at the look on his face. “No, I don’t.” 

Then, his face broke into a grin. His shoulders dropped and he was stepping towards you, pulling you into his chest like he’d been waiting to do it for years. 

And he had. He really had.

His touch was overwhelming. His arms wrapped around you, the heat of his throat warm against your cheek. You buried your face into his neck, breathing in the smell of his cologne and the lingering smell of kid that was all over him. All over both of you. 

You pulled away, giddy with nerves and relief. “Happy?”

“Happy,” He breathed. “So… what now?”

“I don’t know… what do you think?”

He quirked his head, lips twisting into a smile. “I think… I’ve been waiting a long time to kiss you again.”

Your heart skipped. “Then what’s stopping you?”

He smiled lazily, like he was half-dreaming, and brushed his nose against yours before pushing his lips onto yours. You melted against him, so happy you could hardly think straight.

Heeseung pushed you back against the counter, his hands on your waist as yours threaded through his hair. 

“I was an asshole,” He mumbled against your mouth. “I’m sorry” 

You shook your head, breathless beneath his lips. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Besides, you thought, that was years ago. And the Heeseung in front of you now was not the same one that had left you behind. 

Not by a longshot.

[yuriririnnie]

I hang around here when I can’t sleep because it helps calm down my anxiety.

ENHYPEN Masterlists | Baby Masterlist

~ I write angst, comfort, fluff only!~

@luvilists | vent page | socials

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

HEESEUNG

Waiting for a Dream

Eternal Moonlight | @bywons event

blue - keshi

Wrong Person, Right Time

Beneath the Cold

anchored in silence

the way we left it ft. Sunoo | @luvilists

cravings & regrets | requested by @leilamaybelyla

cursed to be unloved | requested by anonymous

more than 143 | part 2 | requested by @wonbinceps @ijustwannareadstuff20 @toreadsomething @gyarumindd @mheretoreadff @heeaara

JAY

Healing Hearts, Bringing Souls

drunk - keshi ft. members

rope to nowhere

the weight we share

quiet afternoons

only for you

respawned feelings

rain check | requested by @saphiranishimurashan

JAKE

The Girl Before The One

right here - keshi

in the eyes of a wallflower

one more day of you ft. members

frosted glass

when love feels like goodbye

butterfly blue | part 2 | requested by @sunnysidesins @randomanothercreature @strawberrytaffy10 @jalicecookie @tomiethecozy

SUNGHOON

Echoes of a Once Heartbeat

Soaring Skies & Hidden :)s | inspired by @dearhooonie

like i need u - keshi

𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒 ft. Heeseung

second chances

in the quiet of your touch

yours, finally

enough | requested by @leilamaybelyla

SUNOO

After The One

I’m not cute! ft. members | @luvilists

atlas - keshi

memories of sunshine

𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 (no pic yet)

the way we left it ft. Heeseung | @luvilists

Hard to Love | requested by @leilamaybelyla

crimson ft. Jungwon | @luvilists

the angel in the painting | requested by @kbunzzi2oa

JUNGWON

Lost in the What Ifs

beside you - keshi

fragile embrace

fainted confessions

almost lovers, forgotten promises

never again | requested by anonymous

crimson ft. Sunoo | @luvilists

NI-KI

Through the Storm

skeletons - keshi

花吐き病 -> hanahaki disease

healing wounds

at least, once

you left me in a future I built alone | hbd fic for @pinkglitterpuke

of henna and hakama | hbd fic for @shxhdsstuff

If you liked my stories, reblogging, liking and adding comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

©hazelira, all work is written by me, do not copy or repost or translate.

[yuriririnnie]

Reblogging for reference 📌

can you recommend some of your favorite tumblr writers? i am new to tumblr and really only read your works. thanks!

of course!! I'm gonna be bold and assume you're reading for txt since you're here heh, which works out well because I mainly know of txt writers - and moablr is filled with talent :>

I've tried to categorise them a little (obviously all of these writers write for more than what I've mentioned here so I really recommend checking them all out)

for sub!member fics I'd definitely recommend @hyewka and @fairyofshampgyu !! their fics are super nice to read, from writing to world building and the way they portray characters!

as for fantasy and novel-esque fics then @hyukascampfire, @wildernessuntothemselves and @heesmiles definitely!! they write longer, more plot heavy fics and have a really beautiful way with words :3

if you want lighter almost rom-com vibes then 100% check out @izzyy-stuff, @silvergyus and @lovesickchoi !!

or if you like long fics in general and are ready to spend an afternoon reading then @dawngyu and @koqabear for sure!

tumblr is essentially a horny outlet and so if you want more spice then I'd say @biteyoubiteme (very good throuple fics might I add) but also @delugyu, @thetxtdevil and @taegimood :o

and if you really can't pick and want a real good mix then @1-800-jewon, @boba-beom and @yunverie has such a broad variety of content!

for angsty/emotional content I would turn to @niningtori and @apeachty <3 (im not responsible for any tears shed)

if I've missed anyone or you guys know of more authors please let me know hehe so I can add on to this list!

[yuriririnnie]

YEONJUN Sugar Rush Ride @ Studio Choom

[yuriririnnie]

SOOBIN :: LOVE LANGUAGE FACECAM @ 2025 KOREA UNIV. FESTIVAL

[yuriririnnie]

(250521) "Love Language" ✙ Korea University Festival

[yuriririnnie]

TXT - Love Language MV | Soobin

[yuriririnnie]

TXT :: LOVE LANGUAGE CONCEPT PHOTOS (1)

[yuriririnnie]

So freaking good?! I’m so so so happy about how gradual their relationship developed. Jay is just the sweetest, softest guy who pressures NOBODY. His characterization here is just spot-on, I can’t. 10/10 would recommend.

Harry Potter AUs are becoming my faves in Enhablr and this was so much worth the read.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thank you for writing!!!

pjs. The Marriage Law

synopsis: A Marriage Law was the last thing you expected to dictate your future, let alone shackle you to Park Jongseong. A pureblood heir, painfully composed, infuriatingly good at everything, and—unfortunately—now your husband.

What starts as reluctant cohabitation, filled with awkward silences and sharp words, slowly unravels into something neither of you can ignore. Stolen glances, fleeting touches, and the illusion of normalcy turn into a dangerous game neither of you meant to play. Is it all for show? Or has the line between pretend and real already disappeared?

But love alone isn’t enough to erase the past—or the law that forced you together. As the Ministry looms over your every move, and whispers of rebellion grow louder, you and Jay must decide: fight the law, or fight for each other.

wc: around 20.5K

warnings: Marriage Law AU, Harry Potter AU, forced marriage, government control, slow burn, forced proximity, awkward domesticity, enemies to lovers, bickering, rivalry, mutual annoyance, emotional angst, hurt/comfort, doubt, insecurities, fear of the future, eventual smut, explicit sexual content, sexual tension, intense intimacy, fear of love, conflicted feelings, vulnerability, mentions of pregnancy, future parenthood, domesticity, soft Jay, pining, repressed feelings, denial, yearning, lingering touches, stolen glances, smut, sexual content, F! receiving.

A/N: PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS THINK I'D REALLY APPRECIATE THE FEEDBACK!!!!!

Masterlist

______________________________________________________________

The owl came at dawn.

You woke to the sharp tap, tap, tap against your window, the early morning light bleeding through the tattered curtains of your London flat. Sleep still clung to your body, but the incessant tapping forced you upright, rubbing the remnants of last night’s exhaustion from your eyes. You recognized the Ministry’s wax seal before your fingers even touched the envelope. Your stomach dropped.

It was here.

The letter you had been dreading for months. The whispers of the Marriage Law had been circulating for nearly a year, rumors passed between hushed conversations at pubs, in hidden corners of Diagon Alley, and among former classmates who refused to believe that the government could enforce such a thing. But deep down, you had known it was only a matter of time. The Ministry had already been heading in this direction for years, pushing for more control under the guise of restoration.

With a deep breath, you slid your nail under the seal, breaking it with a snap. The parchment unfurled in your hands, the ink dark against the crisp paper.

Dear Miss Y/N, By decree of the Magical Unity Act, you have been assigned a partner as part of the Ministry’s initiative to preserve and strengthen magical bloodlines. Your assigned match:  Park Jongseong. Pureblood. You are required to present yourself at the Ministry within 48 hours for the formalization of your union. Failure to comply will result in consequences deemed necessary by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We trust you will uphold your duty to preserve our magical world. Sincerely, Matilda Greengrass Head of the Magical Unity Office

Park Jongseong. Of all the people in the world, it had to be him.

You weren’t sure what to think. You had never hated Jongseong—not really. He had always been there in the background, a constant presence in your classes, a name that lingered on the top of exam scores just above yours. He was the type of person who excelled quietly, never rubbing his victories in your face, but still managing to be infuriating simply by existing. You had no idea what he thought of you. If he had any feelings about your academic rivalry, he had never shown it.

And now, he was going to be your husband.

You hadn’t even processed the letter properly before you found yourself in a booth at The Leaky Cauldron, sitting across from Riki. You had sent an urgent owl the moment you had read the letter, needing to talk to someone—anyone—who might understand.

Riki was younger than you by only a couple of years, but you had always seen him as something of a younger brother—mischievous, quick-witted, and annoyingly perceptive when it came to your emotions. He was the kind of friend who teased you relentlessly but would hex anyone who dared to cross you. If there was anyone you could turn to in a moment like this, it was him.

“You got him?” Riki’s eyebrows shot up when you showed him the parchment. “That’s...sure, yeah.”

You groaned, letting your head fall into your hands. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Well, I mean—it could be worse, " Riki shrugged, taking a sip of his Butterbeer, “He’s not, like, awful. He’s just...Jongseong. A bit awkward, not much of a talker, but not the worst person to be tied to for life.”

You groaned again. “That’s supposed to be comforting?”

He grinned. “A little,”

You shook your head, trying to focus. “I don’t even know how I’m going to tell my parents. They’re barely involved in my life as it is, and now I have to explain to them that I’ve been legally bound to someone they don’t even know?”

Riki’s face softened. He knew how complicated your relationship with your parents was—how they had never truly accepted the magical world, even after you got your Hogwarts letter. “You don’t have to tell them right away,” he said gently. “Focus on getting through this first.”

The Ministry of Magic smelled like ink, parchment, and old magic. The weight of history pressed down upon you as you walked through its grand halls, flanked by Aurors ensuring that every witch and wizard assigned under the Magical Unity Act appeared for their mandated marriage registrations. The building was colder than you remembered, or maybe it was the weight of what was about to happen that made you shiver.

Jongseong was already waiting when you arrived, standing stiffly in the corridor outside the registration chamber. His posture was impeccable, shoulders squared, his hands buried in the pockets of his finely tailored robes. The deep green fabric complimented his sharp features, accentuating the strong lines of his jaw and the dark intensity of his eyes. There was always something enigmatic about Jongseong—he was the type of person who carried an air of quiet authority, a man who never wasted unnecessary words. He rarely let his emotions show, but now, even beneath his composed expression, you could see the subtle signs of tension—the way his fingers tapped idly against the parchment he held, the way his lips pressed together a little too firmly.

You swallowed hard, gripping your own letter tightly. His eyes flickered toward you, assessing.

“Y/N.” His voice was steady, but there was something unreadable beneath it. He gave you a small nod, nothing overly familiar, yet not entirely cold.

The Ministry official cleared his throat, pulling you both out of the awkward moment.

”Park Jongseong and Y/N L/N,” he announced, his voice devoid of emotion, as if he had done this a hundred times before. He motioned toward the chamber doors. “Step inside. We will begin the legal binding process.”

Your breath hitched as you stepped forward, feeling the heat of Jongseong’s presence beside you.

The chamber was larger than you had expected, with high ceilings adorned with ancient runes glowing faintly in the dim light. At the center of the room stood a grand mahogany desk, where stacks of parchment were neatly arranged. Hovering above it was a blood-binding quill, pulsing faintly, attuned to the magic that would soon seal your fates.

“Please, be seated.”

You and Jongseong sat across from each other, the tension between you thick, though neither of you acknowledged it. The official took his place behind the desk, flipping open a massive leather-bound ledger.

“Before we proceed, it is my duty to inform you of the terms and expectations set forth by the Ministry under the Magical Unity Act. This marriage is legally binding under magical law, and both parties are required to uphold their roles as husband and wife.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew this was coming, but hearing it laid out so plainly made it harder to ignore.

“First, you will be required to cohabitate within the next twenty-four hours. The Ministry has provided accommodations, though should you choose to relocate, you must inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within seven days.”

Jongseong’s fingers drummed lightly against the desk, his gaze unreadable. He was listening carefully, though he gave nothing away.

“Second,” the official continued, flipping to another section of the document, “you will be required to consummate the marriage within one year. This will be monitored magically, and failure to do so may result in penalties.”

Your breath caught. You forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, but you couldn’t help the way your fingers curled slightly against your lap.

Jongseong’s face remained calm, though you thought you saw the faintest flicker of tension in his jaw.

“Third,” the official continued, “as part of the act’s goal to maintain the magical bloodline, you are expected to conceive a child within two years. Failure to comply will result in further legal interventions. Exceptions will only be granted under rare circumstances, such as medically confirmed infertility.”

You exhaled slowly, heart pounding. This was the part that had haunted you the most. It wasn’t just about being forced into marriage—it was about being forced to give up control over the future you had always imagined for yourself.

You had wanted children, eventually. You had imagined raising them in a world where they could make choices freely, where they could love and marry without being told when and how. But now, that dream had been reduced to a cold deadline set by the Ministry.

Jongseong finally spoke. “What are our rights in terms of autonomy?” His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.

The official barely looked up. “You are granted limited autonomy. While you may maintain employment and personal activities, your primary duty remains fulfilling the obligations of the act. Any attempt to break the contract is considered an act of defiance against the Ministry.”

Jongseong gave a slow nod, as if he had expected that answer but wanted it spoken aloud regardless. The official placed two scrolls of parchment in front of you, followed by the hovering blood-binding quill.

“By signing this document, you are agreeing to all conditions and responsibilities dictated by the Magical Unity Act. Once signed, the bond is sealed permanently under wizarding law. Any attempts to nullify it without Ministry approval will result in severe consequences.”

Jongseong’s eyes met yours then, and for the first time, there was something there—a quiet understanding, a shared reluctance. Neither of you wanted this. But there was no choice.

With a deep breath, you reached for the quill. The moment your fingers touched it, a sharp, warm sensation prickled against your skin, and the magic within it stirred in response. You watched as your name etched itself onto the parchment in deep crimson ink.

Across from you, Jongseong did the same.

The moment his signature was completed, the parchment glowed gold, sealing the contract. A faint hum of magic filled the air as the binding took effect.

It was done. You were married.

The official gave a brisk nod, gathering the signed documents. “The bond is sealed. You are now husband and wife under magical law.” He closed the ledger with a dull thud before standing. “Congratulations.”

The word felt hollow.

The moment you stepped into the apartment the Ministry had assigned, the full weight of your situation slammed into you. This wasn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare anymore. It was real. It was your life.

The space was larger than you expected, a sleek, magically expanded flat that felt caught between two worlds—modern and traditional, functional and intimate, impersonal yet unsettlingly designed for romance. It was clear that whoever had designed these living quarters had done so with the idea of a happily married couple in mind.

The open-concept living space had softly enchanted lighting, walls painted in neutral, calming tones that could be adjusted to fit the residents' “mood.” A fireplace sat in the center of the lounge, with a plush sofa curved just enough to suggest cozy nights spent tangled together. The kitchen was fully stocked, fitted with both Muggle and magical appliances, making it impossible to avoid the domestic intimacy the Ministry seemed so determined to impose.

Two bedrooms were set at opposite ends of the flat, though one was clearly meant to be temporary. The master bedroom, which you tried to ignore, was the worst of it. The king-sized bed was too large, too luxurious, the silk sheets far too inviting. The enchanted wardrobes had already been merged, both your belongings stored together, blending lives you hadn’t chosen to entwine.

Even the bathroom was designed for two people meant to share everything. The tub was massive, the type built for indulgent baths, fitted with potion-infused oils meant to relax muscles—meant to encourage closeness. The sinks, the mirrors, the counter space—everything was structured with a life of intimacy in mind.

Jongseong was standing stiffly just inside the doorway, his hands still shoved into the pockets of his dark robes. He looked as out of place as you felt. His eyes flickered over the surroundings, lingering on the details, his expression betraying nothing.

“Well,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “This is… something.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Yeah.”

An awkward pause stretched between you. Neither of you moved.

You cleared your throat. “So… Do you want to set some ground rules?”

Jongseong finally looked at you, his head tilting slightly. “Ground rules?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “For… coexisting.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but it disappeared just as quickly. “Fair enough.” He nodded toward the hallway. “You can take the bedroom on the left.”

You hesitated. “The Ministry expects us to share one eventually.”

His jaw tightened slightly, but his voice remained calm. “We don’t have to rush into that.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Good.”

Another silence settled. This was going to be excruciating.

You thought the first night would be easier because you had separate rooms. It wasn’t.

The walls were too thin. Every tiny shift, every creak of the floorboards, every sigh of the bed linens as one of you turned over—it was impossible to forget that you weren’t alone. That there was someone else here, just a few steps away, existing in the same space, adjusting to the same forced reality.

You lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, feeling every inch of the strangeness that had settled into your life. The silence of the apartment was deafening. Somewhere beyond your door, Jongseong was doing the same. Not sleeping. Not moving. Just existing in this same, uncomfortable limbo.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there before you heard it—

A soft, almost hesitant knock on your door.

You sat up immediately, heart stammering in your chest. “…Yeah?”

You moved toward the coffee pot, pretending not to notice how he was gripping his quill a little too tightly. The sight of him already reading the regulations booklet made your stomach twist. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know what new absurdities the Ministry had included.

“What’s that?” you asked warily.

Jongseong turned the booklet toward you so you could see the bold title stamped on the front.

A Guide to Magical Marital Expectations: Understanding the Unity Act.

You stared at him. “You’re actually reading that?”

He shrugged, flipping to the next page. “Figured it might be useful to know what we’re legally bound to.”

You sighed, sinking into the chair across from him. “And? What’s in it?”

Jongseong skimmed a few lines before speaking. “Mostly just reinforcing what we were already told. Cohabitation, marital duties, legal ramifications if we break the contract.” He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the page. His jaw tensed slightly, and that was when you knew whatever he had just read wasn’t going to be pleasant.

A beat of silence.

Bravely, you cleared your throat. “What else are you working on?”

Jongseong’s eyes flickered up briefly before he tapped the page with his quill. “Just organizing my work schedule. Trying to figure out how to balance—” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “All of this.”

Right. Work. You hadn’t even thought about how this new life would affect your schedules. You needed to figure out yours, his, how to exist in this space without stepping on each other’s toes.

“I have a morning shift at Flourish and Blotts starting tomorrow,” you said after a pause. “And I have an evening class twice a week.”

Jongseong nodded slowly. “I start work at the Ministry at eight every morning. Sometimes later, depending on meetings. But I’m usually back by seven.”

You absorbed that. That meant you’d have the mornings mostly to yourself, but the evenings… “So we’ll see each other mostly at night.”

“Yeah.” His expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. Maybe he was just as wary of that realization as you were.

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly. “And, uh… weekends?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t usually work on weekends, but I study. And sometimes I meet up with friends.”

Right. Friends. You almost forgot that, despite everything, he had a life outside of this.

That thought stuck with you longer than it should have. Maybe because you were realizing that your life, your freedom, had been traded in for something else. For something you didn’t get to choose.

“Oh,” he said flatly. “Also.” He looked up at you, his dark eyes unreadable. “The shared bed rule.”

You grimaced. “I was hoping they’d forgotten about that part.”

Jongseong sighed, setting the booklet down with more force than necessary. “Unfortunately, the Ministry doesn’t forget anything.”

The booklet sat between you on the table, the pages filled with carefully worded regulations, all designed to ensure that the couples formed under the Magical Unity Act fulfilled their “duties.” The words seemed too sharp, too final, as if they carried an unspoken command beneath them.

Your fingers curled around the edge of your mug as you read the clause for yourself.

Clause 7.3 - Marital CohabitationIn order to promote a natural and successful union, married partners must reside within a shared living space and engage in consistent physical proximity.

It is required that both parties sleep within the same quarters by the third month of marriage.

Noncompliance will result in Ministry intervention.

You exhaled sharply, closing your eyes for a moment. “They’re really monitoring everything.”

Jongseong tapped his fingers against the table, his expression carefully neutral. “We have three months to figure that part out.”

You rubbed your temples. “Three months is… not a lot of time.”

He looked at you for a long moment before setting the booklet aside. “We’ll deal with it when we have to.”

And for some reason, that stuck with you.

Jongseong—or Jay, as his closest friends called him—was totally unamused by his morning conversation.

He sat at his desk in the Ministry, flipping through paperwork as Jake lounged against the opposite desk, watching him with a knowing look. The blond Auror had a casual ease about him, one leg stretched out, a quill spinning between his fingers as he regarded Jay with mild amusement.

“So,” Jake finally said, dragging out the word. “How’s married life?”

Jay didn’t look up. “It’s fine.”

His friend snorted, adjusting his robes as he leaned in. “Oh, come on. I know you better than that.”

Jay set his quill down with a sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

Jake tilted his head, considering. “I don’t know. That she’s unbearable? That she’s the love of your life? That you’ve realized you actually have a thing for arranged marriages?”

Unamused, Jay shot him a flat look. “None of the above.”

But the blond was relentless, he leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. “So, what? You guys are just awkwardly existing in the same space?”

Jay hesitated, fingers tapping against the parchment in front of him. “…Something like that.”

“Is she at least decent company?”

Jay exhaled, stretching his arms before finally looking up. “She’s normal. It’s awkward. We’re trying to figure out how to coexist without making it worse.”

“Makes sense. I mean, you didn’t exactly get a say in this. Neither of you did.”

Jay appreciated that Jake wasn’t trying to force humor into the situation, not like their other friends probably would. Jake had a way of knowing when to joke and when to actually listen, which was why he was one of the few people Jay actually talked to about things that mattered.

the Australian smirked. “Alright, I’ll leave it alone. But tell me one thing.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “What?”

The blond's grin was slow and knowing. “Do you find her attractive?”

Jay’s hand froze mid-page turn.

Jake caught it immediately. “Ohhh. That’s interesting.”

rolling his eyes, setting the file aside a little too forcefully, the married man in question responds. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Jay pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re insufferable.”

Jake laughed, standing up and stretching. “Well, I’d say welcome to married life, but…” He gave his friend a mockingly sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve already figured out it’s a mess.”

Jay shoved his hand away. “Get out of my office.”

“See you at lunch, hubby.”

Jay groaned as Jake walked away, already regretting every life decision that had led to this conversation.

Jongseong was a morning person. You learned that quickly.

He was always the first to wake up, moving around the apartment with an effortless ease that was frankly annoying to someone like you, who preferred to cling to sleep for as long as possible. You often woke to the sound of the shower running, the smell of coffee brewing, and the faint rustling of parchment as he read through Ministry documents while waiting for breakfast.

This morning was no different a few weeks later.

By the time you groggily dragged yourself out of bed, Jongseong was already fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, a towel slung low around his waist. His toned chest and broad shoulders glowed slightly in the morning light, water droplets still clinging to his skin as he casually walked toward his dresser, seemingly unaware—or unbothered—by your presence.

You immediately averted your eyes, heart stammering in your chest. But you could still feel him, still sense the heat radiating off his skin, and the way the air seemed thicker in his presence.

“Morning,” he greeted smoothly, voice still slightly hoarse from sleep.

Your throat felt impossibly dry. “Yeah. Morning.”

He smirked slightly, as if noticing your discomfort, and continued dressing—slowly. The deliberate way he pulled his shirt over his head before taking it off again, deciding he wanted a different one, the flex of his muscles, the way he pushed his damp hair back… it was infuriatingly distracting.

You turned toward the kitchen in desperation, fingers gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to steady yourself. You were not going to be affected by this.

But then he walked past you, his bare arm brushing against yours, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of your sleeve. You felt the breath hitch in your throat, a sudden rush of awareness sparking along your spine.

You had just taken your first sip of coffee, finally feeling somewhat human, when a loud knock echoed through the apartment. You and Jongseong exchanged a glance.

“Expecting someone?” you asked.

He sighed, setting his mug down. “No. But I have a bad feeling about it.”

The moment Jongseong opened the door, a tall, severe-looking woman in a charcoal robe strode in without invitation. She introduced herself as Ms. Alderton, her expression a mixture of polite authority and thinly veiled scrutiny.

“We’re conducting routine compliance inspections under the Magical Unity Act,” she said, flipping through her clipboard. “It’s a simple process, really. Just verifying that the two of you are… adjusting well to married life.”

Your stomach dropped.

Jongseong had not finished dressing.

He was still only wearing a towel around his waist.

You saw the exact moment Ms. Alderton’s eyes flickered downward—not in a scandalized way, but in a very obvious assessment of the situation.

“Oh.” She blinked, arching an eyebrow. “I see I’ve caught you at a… private moment.”

Jongseong’s entire body tensed. You scrambled to grab his shirt off the chair and shove it at him.

“Right, um, we weren’t expecting company,” you said quickly, willing your face not to burn.

Jongseong took the shirt, clearing his throat as he pulled it on, but not before you saw the way his abs tightened under the scrutiny, the way his fingers twitched as he buttoned his shirt with forced composure.

Ms. Alderton hummed, clearly unimpressed. She began the inspection, moving through the apartment with cold efficiency.

She examined your living quarters, asked too many questions about how often you and Jay were together in the same space, and, of course, dropped the expected question:

“And how are you finding the transition into… intimacy?”

You nearly choked on your tea.

Jongseong, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “We’re taking our time with that,” he said evenly. “As I’m sure the Ministry is aware, not all couples move at the same pace.”

Ms. Alderton gave him a knowing look, scribbling something onto her parchment. “Well, as you both know, there are expectations to be met. We’ll check in again soon.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving the weight of her unspoken warnings hanging in the air.

You let out a long breath, still feeling the residual heat of the morning’s tension clinging to your skin.

At work, Jongseong barely had time to sit at his desk before Jake was on him.

“Alright, listen, I’ve been patient, but you’re dodging, man,” the blond Auror said, plopping down in the chair across from Jay’s desk. “We need to meet her.”

Jay sighed, rubbing his temple. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Jake gave him a pointed look. “You’ve been married for weeks and we haven’t even met your wife. Sunghoon’s convinced you made her up.”

“We’re fine. We’re adjusting. That’s all you need to know.”

Jake smirked. “See, the more you say it’s fine, the less I believe it.”

“You’re impossible.”

Jake shrugged. “That’s why you love me. So, what do you say? A small get-together. Nothing crazy.”

Jay sighed again, but this time, he hesitated. He knew the Blond wouldn’t let this go.

“I’ll… think about it.”

When Jay got home that evening, you could immediately tell something was on his mind.

“What is it?” you asked, watching as he loosened his tie.

“Jake keeps pushing for us to meet up with him and the guys,” Jay admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I told him we were fine, but he wasn’t buying it.”

You thought about it for a moment before shrugging. “Maybe we should.”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

You nodded. “I mean, we’re supposed to be building a life together, right? It might help to actually know the people in it. And… if something ever happens, it’d be good to have them as a support system.”

Jay studied you for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. But there’s an issue,” You arched your brow in response, “ They think we’re like them, you know, more settled into our married life” 

“Ah, I see.” 

He chuckled dryly, “And I haven’t had the chance to correct them.”

And that was how you found yourself getting ready to put on a show.

You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge. It was just a night out with his friends—people who, by all accounts, had no real expectations of you beyond existing at Jongseong’s side. But still, as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit for what felt like the tenth time, something in your chest felt tight.

Jongseong passed by behind you, fastening the cuff of his crisp, navy button-up. The color complemented his complexion unfairly well, the sleeves neatly rolled up to his forearms, just casual enough to look effortless.

His reflection met yours in the mirror. “Are you ready yet?” he asked, smoothing a hand through his hair.

You exhaled through your nose. “You act like getting ready is as simple as putting on a shirt.”

He smirked. “It is, actually.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t push it. Instead, you turned slightly, watching as he undid the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing just the faintest sliver of his collarbone. It wasn’t intentional, but it made something stir deep in your stomach.

The silence stretched between you as you turned back toward the mirror. He lingered behind you, close enough that the warmth of his body made the air feel heavier.

His voice came softer this time. “You look fine.”

Fine. Not breathtaking, not beautiful—just fine.

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

Jongseong’s gaze flickered over you, his brows drawing together slightly like he wanted to say something else but thought better of it. Instead, he just let out a short exhale and reached for his wand. “Let’s go before Jake tracks me down and drags us there himself.”

As he stepped closer, brushing past you to grab his jacket, your breath caught in your throat. The scent of his cologne—clean, warm, just faintly spiced—wrapped around you before you could react. Your skin prickled as he leaned past you, his fingers grazing the dresser beside you.

You didn’t move until he pulled back, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve with practiced ease. Jongseong glanced at you once more, amusement dancing in his dark eyes, before he disappeared into the Floo Network.

You stepped into the Floo Network, watching as Jongseong disappeared in a swirl of green flames before following suit. The familiar tug of magic sent you tumbling through the space between, and in the next moment, you landed just behind him in the bustling pub.

The scent of warm ale, roasted meat, and burning firewood wrapped around you, the low murmur of conversation filling the air. The pub was lively but not overly packed—just busy enough to feel comfortably distracting.

Jongseong placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. His touch was light, but it lingered, a silent reminder that this was part of the act.

Jake spotted you first, grinning. “There they are!” He leaned back in his chair, tilting his glass toward you both. “The happy couple.”

You tried not to stiffen at the word. Happy. That was the goal, right?

Jongseong slipped into the role easily, his arm around your waist a little firmer now. “You make it sound like we’ve been in hiding.”

Jake clapped him on the back as everyone scooted over to make space. “Well, you have! We needed proof you didn’t just run away.”

The conversation flowed smoothly, the group’s laughter blending into the warm, buzzing atmosphere. But you couldn’t help noticing the way Jongseong’s hand lingered on your waist, the way his thumb traced lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. It was subtle—just enough to be convincing, just enough to make your pulse jump.

Sunghoon smirked, raising a brow. “So, how’s married life? Are you two still in the honeymoon phase?”

Jake chuckled. “Yeah, Jay keeps insisting they’re doing just great.”

You felt Jongseong’s hand tighten slightly on your hip as he hummed in agreement. “We are.”

And then, before you could react, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple.

It was brief, chaste, and yet… oddly intimate. His lips lingered just long enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.

The table burst into cheers.

As the night went on, the conversation shifted from teasing to storytelling. Jake leaned back in his seat, shaking his head fondly. “You know, I still don’t know how the hell Jay managed to get through Hogwarts without completely embarrassing himself.”

Sunghoon chuckled. “That’s because he had us covering for him.”

Jongseong scoffed. “You mean causing more problems than helping?”

Jake smirked. “Call it whatever you want, mate. But let’s not forget that one time you tried to impress a girl by showing off on the Quidditch pitch and almost broke your arm.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Now this sounds like a story I need to hear.”

Jake grinned. “See, back in school, Jay was all business, all the time. But one day, some girl in Ravenclaw was watching him practice, and he got it in his head that he should show off—flew higher than necessary, tried a fancy dive, and nearly knocked himself unconscious.”

Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, young love.”

Sunghoon leaned in. “Speaking of, we should all introduce our wives one day. Maybe have a proper dinner.”

Jongseong stiffened slightly, and you felt it. But before he could say anything, you jumped in.

“That would be nice,” you said, smiling. “Though, I’ll admit, I’d probably be terrible at hosting.”

Jake waved a hand. “Nah, don’t worry about that. Besides, I heard you’re friends with Riki?”

Your brows lifted. “Yeah, I basically treat him like my little brother.”

Jake laughed. “Figures. We were both in the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. He was a Seeker, I was a Chaser—best duo ever.”

Sunghoon snorted. “And yet, somehow, Jay was the one always getting all the attention.”

Jake groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

The banter continued, light and warm, and despite yourself, you found that you were enjoying it. The illusion of normalcy was beginning to feel real.

Jongseong wasn’t just your forced husband tonight—he was someone who had a past, who had friends that truly cared about him. And maybe, you were starting to see why people cared about him, too.

The moment the Floo Network spit you both out into the apartment, the spell of the night started to break. Gone was the warm, buzzing atmosphere of the pub. Now, there was only quiet, filled with nothing but the ticking of the enchanted clock on the wall and the soft rustle of Jongseong adjusting his sleeves.

You expected him to make some dry remark about the night, maybe joke about Jake’s relentless teasing. But instead, he just stood there, staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You blinked, taken aback. “I—yeah. Why?”

He exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “You were… different tonight.”

Your throat felt dry. “We were both acting.”

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, unreadable. “I know.”

Neither of you moved. Neither of you quite knew what to do now.

The next few days were… different. Not drastic, not obvious, but something had changed. You noticed it in the way Jongseong lingered in rooms a little longer than before, the way his gaze flickered to you more often, the way silence between you no longer felt so hostile—just heavy.

Even the small moments carried weight. The way he passed you a cup of coffee in the mornings without needing to ask how you took it. The way he let his hand linger just a fraction longer than necessary when handing you something. The way your name sounded softer when he spoke it.

It was nothing. It was everything.

And then came the first real break in the routine.

You hadn’t expected to see Jongseong standing outside your workplace that evening. His presence was striking against the backdrop of hurried Ministry employees, his sleeves rolled up, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against a lamppost.

For a moment, you just stared, thrown by the sight of him waiting for you.

It felt unnatural—this wasn’t part of your unspoken agreement. You met in shared spaces at home, interacted when necessary, but waiting for each other? That was… different.

You hesitated before approaching. “What are you doing here?”

Jongseong glanced up, his dark eyes flickering over you before he straightened. “Picking you up.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Since when do we do that?”

Jongseong exhaled, shifting his weight. “Since now.”

You studied him, waiting for an explanation that never came. Instead, he pushed off the lamppost and nodded toward the street. “Come on.”

A flicker of uncertainty settled in your stomach as you fell into step beside him. You weren’t used to this—him reaching out first.

As you walked, the sounds of Diagon Alley surrounded you—shopkeepers closing up for the night, the faint hum of distant chatter, the flickering glow of enchanted street lamps. But the quiet between you was louder.

At some point, he spoke again. “You get along with them.”

You glanced at him. “With who?”

“My friends.”

You hummed. “They’re easy to like.”

Jongseong nodded, his hands tucked into his pockets. His steps were measured, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“They like you too.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around your bag strap. Was that what this was about?

“You fit in well,” he added, his voice lower.

Something warm unfurled in your stomach. “Would it have been a problem if I didn’t?”

Jongseong smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Jake would’ve grilled you until you caved.”

You laughed, and for a moment, things felt effortless.

But as you reached the entrance of your shared home, a thought lingered at the back of your mind.

Why did he come to get you in the first place?

It was well past midnight when you shuffled into the kitchen, craving nothing more than a glass of water. You weren’t expecting to see Jongseong standing there, already by the counter, a mug in his hands.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, his gaze flickering down your figure.

It wasn’t until you followed his line of sight that you realized exactly what you were wearing.

A nightshirt. Just a nightshirt. One that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs.

You hadn’t thought about it before leaving your room, but now, under his scrutiny, it suddenly felt like the single most scandalous thing you could’ve worn.

Jongseong cleared his throat. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nodded, stepping closer, reaching for a glass. His presence felt larger in the quiet, like it filled the room in ways you weren’t prepared for. Like he was waiting for something neither of you had the words for.

After a moment, you sighed, staring into your mug as if the swirling liquid inside had all the answers. “I texted my parents about… this,” you finally admitted, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Two weeks ago.”

Jongseong’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t interrupt.

“They never replied,” you continued, voice carefully even. “Not that I was expecting them to.”

Jongseongs fingers tapped lightly against the table, a thoughtful rhythm. “They’re Muggles, right?”

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I didn’t exactly have the best relationship with them before this. But I thought—” You paused, exhaling sharply. “I thought they’d at least say something.”

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again, his voice softer than before. “Maybe they just… don’t know how to respond.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Or maybe they just don’t care.”

Jongseong shifted in his seat, glancing down at his hands. He looked like he wanted to say something, to reach for the right words, but he hesitated. Instead, he settled for a careful, almost reluctant, “I’m sorry.”

You lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “It’s fine.”

The silence stretched. The air felt thick. Too thick.

He exhaled through his nose, eyes flickering up to yours. And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

His fingers twitched. His jaw tensed. His eyes darkened, just slightly. And then, he took a step back. A deliberate one.

You swallowed. “I should—”

“Yeah.” His voice was lower than before. Rougher. “Me too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment. And then you did.

The next morning, the reminder came. A letter, crisp and official, waiting for both of you on the breakfast table.

Jongseong opened it first, scanning the words, his jaw tightening. You peered over.

Ministry of Magic Directive 492-B: Cohabitation Progress Assessment As part of your continued marital integration, you are required to submit a Cohabitation Progress Report detailing shared living arrangements and physical proximity. As per Clause 7.3 of the Unity Act, proof of continued cohabitation will be assessed in the next Ministry visit. Failure to comply with expectations may result in reassessment and intervention.

You let out a slow breath. “They’re watching us closer now.”

Jongseong scoffed, tossing the letter aside. “Of course they are.”

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table. Something about the wording unsettled you.

“Physical proximity,” you murmured. “They’re pushing for more.”

Jongseong ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you. “Yeah.”

Silence.

The weight of the words hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

“We need to practice.”

You looked up from your book, momentarily caught off guard. “Practice what?”

He closed his own book, exhaling like he had already anticipated your reaction. “Being more… natural with each other. The Ministry is expecting real signs of a relationship, not just two people coexisting in the same space.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly. “You mean touching, kissing, all of that?”

He nodded, meeting your gaze with a calmness that only made your stomach tighten further. He wasn’t wrong, of course. If anything, you should have expected this conversation to happen sooner. But something about the way he said it—so practical, so unaffected—sent a nervous flicker through your chest.

“How do you want to start?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

Jongseong hesitated for only a moment before he pushed himself off the couch and extended a hand. “Come here.”

You stared at his outstretched fingers, debating, before finally placing your hand in his. His palm was warm, steady, and as he gently pulled you up, you felt your breath catch slightly at how close he was now.

“Hugging first,” he murmured, like he was giving instructions.

You exhaled softly before stepping forward, wrapping your arms around his waist. It felt awkward at first—stiff, calculated—but then, as his arms circled around you in response, something shifted. He was warm, solid, and despite the tension in your shoulders, there was a comfort in the closeness. You felt the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers rested lightly against your back.

“This isn’t terrible,” he muttered, voice lower than usual.

You huffed a small laugh, eyes still pressed against his chest. “High praise.”

He chuckled, a small vibration against your body. The silence stretched between you, no longer heavy with hesitation but something else—something unspoken. You weren’t sure how long you stood like that before he finally murmured, “Next.”

You swallowed, stepping back slightly. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary before dropping away.

“Kissing?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Jongseong nodded, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “We should get used to it.”

You inhaled, forcing yourself to meet his gaze head-on. “Alright.”

His fingers reached for your chin, tilting it up slightly, and the air in the room seemed to shift. He didn’t move immediately, as if gauging your reaction, waiting for the tension to settle before he finally leaned in.

The first brush of his lips was light, cautious. Testing.

Your breath caught. It was such a simple touch, barely there, and yet it sent a strange warmth curling in your stomach. His lips were soft, warm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he pressed in again—this time firmer, deeper.

A slow, deliberate slide of lips.

Your fingers curled involuntarily into his shirt, as if steadying yourself, as his lips moved against yours with a patience that sent your pulse hammering in your ears. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t merely going through the motions. He was learning you.

There was something unbearably intimate about it, something in the way he lingered, in the way his fingers flexed slightly against your waist. Like he wasn’t sure where to place his hands, but he knew he didn’t want to let go.

Your own breath had turned uneven, the warmth between you making your skin prickle. You weren’t supposed to feel this. It was just practice. Just a test.

And yet, your heart betrayed you with every second he refused to pull away.

Just when you thought he was done, his lips barely parted from yours, he hesitated—and then he pressed a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips, softer than the first, but somehow infinitely more dangerous.

Your eyes snapped open, breath stalling in your throat.

Jongseong didn’t move for a second, his gaze locked on yours as if waiting for a reaction. Then, he took a small step back, clearing his throat. “See? Not so hard.”

You exhaled shakily, forcing a smirk. “Speak for yourself.”

He smiled slightly, but there was something else there now. Something neither of you were quite ready to address.

That night, long after you had gone to bed, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The feel of his lips hadn’t left you. The warmth of his touch still clung to your skin, lingering in a way that made sleep impossible.

The first morning after the kiss, you had been unsure what to expect. Would he pretend it hadn’t happened? Would the air be awkward between you?

You walked into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes, and saw him standing by the stove, making coffee like he always did. The difference was how he looked at you.

"Morning," he said, and before you could respond, he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with an ease that made your stomach turn over. The touch was fleeting, barely there, yet entirely intentional.

By the second day, it was a hand at your waist when he passed by you in the hallway, fingers lingering as if testing his boundaries. You weren’t sure when it started feeling natural, but you knew that by the third day, when Jongseong pressed a small peck to your temple as he handed you your morning coffee, you didn’t freeze.

You accepted it.

Maybe even welcomed it.

By then, you had decided that if he could do it so easily, so could you. That morning, before leaving for work, you turned back to him just as you reached the door.

"See you later," you murmured, before pressing a quick peck to his cheek.

It was supposed to be casual, unthinking, but as soon as you stepped back, you caught the slight widening of his eyes before he composed himself. You had caught him off guard.

You swallowed, feigning nonchalance, before leaving quickly. You were the one initiating now.

It was the second evening when Jongseong offered to pick you up from work again.

"If people see us together more often, it might help with the whole convincing thing," he had reasoned.

Logical. Sensible. Everything Jongseong was.

Except when he showed up outside your building, leaning against the stone wall with his hands in his coat pockets, looking entirely unbothered while your coworkers noticed.

"Your husband’s here again," one of them teased as they nudged you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the heat crawling up your neck as you stepped outside. He looked good under the streetlights, the cool air turning his skin slightly pink. His gaze met yours, and something flickered in his eyes before he pushed off the wall and walked toward you.

"Long day?" he asked as he fell into step beside you.

"Exhausting," you murmured. "Thanks for picking me up."

He glanced at you, then, as if on impulse, reached for your hand. Not a performance. Just instinct. His fingers laced through yours with the same steadiness he always carried, and even though you told yourself it was just for show, your pulse didn’t get the memo.

Halfway down the street, you spotted a familiar figure across the road—Jake. He caught sight of you at the same time, waving enthusiastically.

Without thinking, you smiled and waved back. "Jake!"

Jongseong’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, just barely noticeable, but he didn’t say anything.

Jake grinned, giving a knowing look before disappearing into the crowd. You cleared your throat, hoping Jongseong didn’t read into anything. But of course, he had noticed.

The morning of the visit felt different. Heavier.

You woke up to the quiet sounds of Jongseong moving around the flat, the faint scent of coffee drifting through the air. The weight of the upcoming meeting sat in your chest like a stone—there was no ignoring the fact that today, the Ministry would scrutinize everything you and Jongseong had been working toward.

You lingered in bed for a moment longer than usual, staring at the ceiling, feeling the heat of your own overactive thoughts. Had you practiced enough? Would they believe you? Would they catch on that some of these moments had started feeling far too real?

You sighed, forcing yourself up, and padded into the kitchen. Jongseong was leaning against the counter, arms crossed as he sipped from his mug. His hair was still damp from his shower, sticking to his forehead slightly, and—

You blinked. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Again.

Jongseong barely acknowledged you as he took another sip of coffee, then set the mug down with an exhale. “We should go over a few things before they get here.”

You were still staring at his bare chest, lips slightly parted. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like this—Merlin, you lived together now—but something about it felt different today.

“Uh,” you said eloquently. “You’re—”

“I know,” he replied, completely unbothered. “I forgot to grab my shirt from the other room.”

Before you could respond, a loud knock at the door shattered the moment.

Panic seized your chest.

“They’re early?” you hissed.

Jongseong swore under his breath, grabbing for the nearest thing—your cardigan, which had been draped over a chair. He threw it at you before sprinting toward the bedroom, leaving you standing there, gripping the fabric uselessly as another knock sounded.

Forcing down your nerves, you rushed to the door, opening it just enough to see the official standing there, a clipboard in hand.

“Mrs. Park?” the man asked in a clipped tone.

“Yes,” you said, trying to sound composed.

“We’re here for the cohabitation assessment,” he continued, adjusting his glasses as he glanced down at his paperwork. “May we come in?”

You stepped aside, letting them in, just as Jongseong reappeared—this time fully dressed, but slightly breathless. The Ministry official’s gaze flickered between you both, already taking notes.

The official took a seat at the dining table, motioning for both of you to do the same. His assistant, a younger witch with keen eyes, remained standing near the bookshelf, observing.

“We’ll start with some basic questions,” the man said, clicking his quill against the parchment. “How has married life been treating you both?”

Jongseong leaned back slightly, arm draping over the back of your chair in a practiced motion. “It’s been an adjustment,” he said smoothly, glancing at you with what looked like amusement. “But we’re settling in well.”

The official hummed, eyes narrowing. “What would you say has been the biggest change since getting married?”

You hesitated, heart pounding. What was a normal answer?

Jongseong, of course, had no problem answering. “Waking up to each other in the house.”

You nearly choked on air.

The official scribbled something down. “And how do you usually spend your evenings together?”

Your mind raced. Jongseong was the first to respond, again, far too at ease with all of this. “Dinner, talking about our days, sometimes reading together on the couch.”

That was true. But the way he was selling it so smoothly made heat creep up your neck.

The assistant tilted her head. “And your sleeping arrangements?”

The air in the room thickened.

Jongseong barely hesitated. “We have separate rooms for now, but we’re adjusting.”

The official’s quill paused. A bad sign.

“That will need to change,” he said briskly. “As you know, starting next week, it will be mandatory for all married couples under this law to share a bedroom. The Ministry will have enchantments in place to verify compliance. Any deviation from this could result in a reevaluation of your union.”

Your stomach twisted. They were going to monitor your sleeping arrangements?

The assistant added, “It’s a common concern among couples who haven’t previously lived together, but physical closeness is a necessary step toward a successful marriage.”

Your hands clenched beneath the table. Necessary? Successful? What did that even mean in a marriage you hadn’t chosen?

The official leaned forward slightly. “Are you prepared for that transition?”

Jongseong’s grip on the back of your chair tightened just slightly before he nodded. “Of course.”

The official’s gaze flickered between you two, scrutinizing every reaction, every hesitation. “Then we will expect that adjustment to be complete by the next check-in.”

The assistant cleared her throat. “One last thing. We need to verify your comfort with one another.”

You barely had time to process before Jongseong’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face toward him.

You should’ve seen it coming.

His lips brushed against yours softly, gently at first. But the moment your breath caught, the moment he felt your fingers instinctively tighten around his, he pressed in just a little more—lingering, deepening, turning what should have been just for show into something you didn’t know how to categorize.

By the time he pulled away, your pulse was hammering.

The official seemed satisfied. “That will do.”

Jongseong didn’t let go of your hand.

The Ministry left shortly after, having seen enough. The moment the door shut behind them, you turned to Jongseong, heart still racing.

“That was—”

“Convincing?” he supplied, arching an eyebrow. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

You swallowed. “You didn’t have to—”

He cut you off, voice lower. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”

You had no answer to that.

Because the truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.

And, worse still, in just a few days, you wouldn’t be able to avoid the reality of what the Ministry expected from you.

You weren’t just playing house anymore. You were about to start living in it.

You remained standing by the door, arms crossed, still feeling the weight of their scrutiny on your skin. The words lingered between you and Jongseong like an unspoken curse.

You must share a bedroom. You must be physically close. The Ministry will verify.

You turned slowly, eyes meeting Jongseong’s. He was still standing near the table, fingers drumming against the wood. He looked composed—too composed, like he hadn’t just promised the officials something neither of you had fully prepared for.

“You said it so easily,” you muttered.

Jongseong raised a brow. “Would you rather I had hesitated?”

Your arms tightened around yourself. “I don’t know.”

His expression remained impassive, but something in the air shifted—thick, charged with something unspoken.

You swallowed. “We have a week.”

“Six days.”

Your gaze snapped up. “You’re counting?”

He shrugged. “It’s important.”

You exhaled sharply and turned toward the hallway. The flat wasn’t huge, but it had two bedrooms. Your bedroom and his. The safe distance you had clung to was suddenly about to vanish.

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest. “We need to figure out how to do this.”

Jongseong ran a hand through his hair, considering. “We should start by deciding how to—”

“Who’s moving?” you interrupted. “You or me?”

He blinked. You hadn’t even let him finish.

For some reason, the question flustered him more than he expected. He looked toward his room, then toward yours, then back at you. “I… I guess it makes sense for one of us to move into the other’s space.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s obvious.”

His jaw tensed. “Then why do you sound upset?”

You inhaled sharply. “Because this isn’t normal. None of this is normal.”

Silence. The tension was razor-thin, tight enough to snap, but just as the air felt like it might crack open with unspoken frustration, Jongseong suddenly stepped forward.

Your breath hitched as he reached up, fingers brushing lightly against your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. His touch was barely there—soft, lingering, as if grounding you before the moment could spiral too far.

Your stomach flipped. The anger, the frustration—it melted in an instant, leaving something quieter in its place.

“I know,” he murmured. “But we don’t have a choice.”

He hesitated for a beat before his thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his fingers barely ghosting your jawline. 

“Baby,” he murmured softly, testing the word, letting it hang between you. His eyes searched yours. “Is that okay?”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You weren’t sure what shocked you more—the nickname, or the fact that you didn’t mind it.

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest, but eventually, you nodded.

Jongseong held your gaze for a second longer before his hand dropped, tension breaking just enough for you to exhale again.

You cleared your throat, stepping back slightly. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?”

“It matters,” he murmured again. His gaze flickered with something unreadable before he turned and walked toward his room. He pushed the door open, revealing a clean and modern space—a bed that somehow seemed too big, a desk neatly arranged, shelves lined with things you hadn’t paid attention to before.

“This will work,” he said simply, like it was nothing. Like moving you into his space wasn’t going to alter everything.

You stepped into the room cautiously, running your fingers along the edge of his desk. This was real now.

Jongseong moved beside you, hands slipping into his pockets. “You’ll take the bed, obviously.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“The couch.”

“No.” The word left you before you could think about it. Because that would be too obvious. Too much space. Too much defiance against what they were expecting.

Jongseong tilted his head. “No?”

You swallowed. “If they’re monitoring, we can’t make it look fake.”

His expression was unreadable. Then, after a long silence, he said, “We’ll take sides.”

You nodded slowly. “Sides.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Neither of you moved.

The weight of the agreement pressed in around you. You would share a bed. You would be inches apart at night. The pretense of distance was officially gone.

Jongseong finally sighed. “I’ll move your things in tomorrow.”

You nodded. Then, after a pause, you took a small step toward him. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

He smirked faintly. “Nothing about this has been.”

You exhaled slowly. “Then we should make it look real.”

Jongseong’s smirk faded slightly. He tilted his head, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. That look. That tension. 

Without thinking, you reached for his wrist, fingers curling around it just briefly before pulling away. Something about touching him first felt necessary.

Jongseong didn’t pull back. Instead, he lifted a hand, his fingers brushing against yours before he murmured, “We’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, stepping back. “We have six days.”

His lips quirked. “Five and a half.”

You huffed a laugh despite yourself. Then, before you could change your mind, you turned and left the room, your pulse still unsteady in your chest.

______________________________________________________________

The first night in the same room felt heavier than you had expected. You sat at the edge of the bed, fingers gripping the sheets as the reality of the situation fully settled over you.

Jay was in the bathroom, the faint sound of running water filling the silence of the bedroom. Your bedroom now. Your bed, which was suddenly meant for two.

When he stepped out, towel drying his hair, you didn’t look up immediately. Instead, you focused on the shifting space around you—the way your books now lined part of his shelf, your blanket was folded at the foot of the bed beside his, your perfume lingered in the air now.

The room was no longer just his. It was becoming yours, too.

Jay let out a slow exhale as he tossed his towel over a chair. When you finally looked up, your gaze caught on the fact that he was shirtless. He had no intention of sleeping in one, it seemed.

“I don’t sleep with a shirt on,” he said casually, noticing your stare.

You swallowed and cleared your throat. “Can you—just for tonight?”

Jay’s brows lifted slightly before he let out a quiet chuckle. “You really think a shirt’s gonna make a difference, baby?”

Your stomach flipped at the nickname, the casual way it rolled off his tongue. The second time tonight.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Just for tonight.”

He sighed, but didn’t argue, grabbing a t-shirt from the dresser and slipping it on before climbing into bed. “Happy?”

You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck and nodded.

“You okay?” he asked after a beat, watching you.

You blinked. That was the first time he’d asked you that all night.

“Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than intended. “Just… adjusting.”

He hummed, turning onto his back. “You’ll get used to it.”

Would you?

You inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “We should set some ground rules.”

He nodded, shifting to get comfortable. “Okay. Like what?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “No unnecessary touching while sleeping.”

Jay smirked. “You think I’m gonna be all over you in my sleep?”

Your stomach flipped at the teasing edge in his voice. “I think accidents happen,” you countered, narrowing your eyes.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. No unnecessary touching.”

You nodded, though the warmth in your cheeks refused to fade.

“Anything else?” he asked, glancing toward you as he adjusted the pillows.

You hesitated again. “What if, what if one of us wakes up first?”

Jay raised a brow. “Then the other keeps sleeping? That’s usually how waking up works.”

You glared. “I mean, do we pretend to still be asleep? Do we—do we greet each other? What’s the etiquette here?”

Jay let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused. “I dunno. Do you want me to say good morning all soft and sweet? Maybe kiss your forehead while I’m at it?”

You shot him a look, but the mental image sent something warm curling in your stomach.

He grinned. “I’ll just say ‘morning’ and get out of bed. Sound good?”

You nodded. “Okay. That works.”

Jay leaned back against the headboard, watching you for a moment before tilting his head. "By the way," he murmured, "you don’t have to keep calling me Jongseong. Jay is fine."

You hesitated. "Are you sure?"

He smirked slightly. "Yeah. Sounds better when you say it."

Your stomach did an odd little flip at that, but you masked it with a nod. "Alright. Jay." 

“You sure you’re comfortable?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”

He hummed again, like he didn’t fully believe you, but didn’t push.

Then, just as you were about to shift under the covers, he reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

Your breath hitched slightly at the unexpected softness of the gesture. It was casual, like something natural, something instinctive.

“Relax,” he murmured, voice lower now, almost drowsy. “It’s just me.”

Just him.

The realization settled somewhere deep in your chest as you nodded slowly. You lay back, facing the ceiling for a long moment, listening to the quiet rhythm of the room. Eventually, Jay flicked the bedside lamp off, and darkness swallowed the space between you both.

After a long stretch of silence, you swallowed and, almost in a whisper, asked, "Are you already used to it?"

There was a pause before Jay shifted slightly beside you. His voice was softer than before when he finally answered. "Not yet."

Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. You had spilled coffee on your only clean work shirt, and barely made it to your job on time. Meetings ran over, projects piled up, and no matter how much you tried to get ahead, the day kept dragging you down.

Then, to top it all off, the train home was delayed, and your wand flickered weakly when you tried to summon your keys at the door. By the time you finally stepped inside the apartment, exhaustion clung to your bones, irritation simmering beneath your skin.

You kicked off your shoes with more force than necessary, throwing your bag onto the chair with a frustrated huff. Everything sucked. Absolutely everything.

Then you looked toward the bed.

Jay was already there, half-asleep, his head turned toward the door as if he had been waiting for you. His hair was messy, his bare shoulders peeking out from beneath the covers. The dim lighting made his features softer, relaxed in a way that nearly made you forget how awful your day had been.

“Took you long enough,” he mumbled sleepily.

Your frustration flickered, the sharp edges of it dulling almost instantly. You sighed, running a hand over your face. “Yeah. Today was hell.”

Jay hummed, eyes barely open as he shifted, making just enough space for you. “C’mere, baby.”

Your heart clenched at the way he said it, voice thick with sleep, laced with a quiet warmth that had no right making you feel better. 

You sighed again, but this time it wasn’t frustration—it was something softer, something that melted under the weight of his tired gaze.

You moved toward the closet to change, but Jay groaned softly, burying his face in the pillow. “No, just talk to me. I wanna hear about your day.”

You shook your head, exhaling as you unbuttoned your shirt. “You’re barely awake.”

“So?” he muttered, voice muffled. “Still wanna hear you.”

His insistence chipped away at whatever was left of your bad mood. As you moved through your night routine, you found yourself telling him everything—the stupid meetings, the unbearable commute, the way your boss kept mispronouncing your name even after working together for months.

Jay hummed occasionally, nodding in half-conscious agreement, eyes drifting shut between your sentences. But every time you stopped, thinking he had finally fallen asleep, his voice would break the silence.

“What happened after that?”

“Did you tell them off?”

“Bet you rolled your eyes at least five times.”

By the time you finally crawled into bed, most of the weight from the day had lifted, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled deep in your bones. As you exhaled, sinking into the sheets, Jay shifted beside you. His eyes were barely open, sleep pressing heavy against him, but he still reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek.

Without thinking, he murmured, "C’mere," and before you could register what was happening, he pulled you in, pressing a firm, lingering kiss against your lips. It was warm, slow, edged with sleep and something softer, something that made your chest tighten.

By the time he pulled away, his lips barely ghosting against yours, he was already halfway asleep again. "Better?" he mumbled, his voice slurred.

You swallowed, your pulse unsteady. "Yeah," you whispered. Jay’s fingers brushed against your arm as he exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Me talking about my day was more for your entertainment than comfort, wasn’t it?”

Jay’s lips curled lazily. “Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting under the covers. But then Jay mumbled, “No shirt, no pants? I know you don’t like to wear your pants to sleep.”

You exhaled, already feeling the exhaustion tug at your limbs. “Fine.”

His fingers flexed against the sheets, satisfied. “Good. Together, we make one whole pajama set.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Jay hummed in agreement, already drifting off. Only when you settled beside him, feeling the shared warmth beneath the blankets, did he finally stop fighting sleep. But before he did, his hand found your cheek, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin.

Without thinking, he leaned in again, this time pressing a softer, lingering kiss against your jaw. You exhaled slowly, your hands hesitating for only a moment before one of them lifted, fingers grazing the bare skin of his chest, feeling the warmth beneath your touch. His breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted closer, his lips trailing down to brush a barely-there kiss against the curve of your neck, his hand moving up to cradle the side of your face. 

"Sleep," he mumbled against your skin, voice fading into exhaustion, before finally letting go.

You woke up to warmth. A slow, steady heat radiating from beside you, the blankets feeling heavier than usual. 

Your eyes blinked open to see him still asleep, lying on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other stretched out lazily, fingers grazing your side. His breathing was even, his face completely relaxed in sleep. 

You hesitated, watching him for just a moment longer than necessary, before attempting to shift away.

The second you moved, Jay groaned low in his throat. “Stay,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. His fingers flexed against your hip before retracting as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you yet.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at his drowsy tone. “I need coffee.”

Jay cracked one eye open. “You always need coffee.”

You huffed. “And you always wake up in a good mood. How?”

He smirked sleepily, rolling onto his back with a slow stretch, his toned stomach peeking out from under the sheets. “It’s a gift, baby.”

The nickname sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you pushed the covers off before he could catch your expression. “I’m making coffee.”

Jay hummed, still blinking away sleep. “You’re really just gonna get up and leave me like this?”

You paused, turning to glance at him. “Like what?”

He grinned lazily. “Cold and abandoned.”

You scoffed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re so dramatic in the morning.”

Jay only smirked as you made your way to the kitchen, the comfortable ease between you lingering even as you started your morning routine.

Moments later, he joined you, still shirtless, hair a mess, moving to grab a mug from the cupboard. As you handed him his coffee, he leaned in absentmindedly, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder before taking the cup. The motion was so casual, so natural, that it took you a second to process.

You blinked, turning to face him. "Aren’t you kissing me too much?"

Jay stiffened slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. But then his lips quirked, and he leaned back against the counter, sipping his coffee.

You watched him for a beat before setting your mug down. "Fine."

Before he could ask what you meant, you leaned in, arms lifting to loosely wrap around his neck as you pressed a soft kiss just beneath his jaw, your lips grazing the warm skin of his neck. You felt the slight shudder run through him, the way his grip on his coffee mug tightened just a fraction. Jay's breath hitched slightly, his fingers tightening around his mug.

When you pulled back, you smirked at the way his ears had turned red. "Happy now?" 

"You should kiss me more," he teased.

You shot him a look, passing him a cup of coffee. “You’re lucky I made extra.”

Jay took a sip, sighing in content. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, baby.”

You pretended not to react to the name, but the warmth stayed with you longer than your coffee did.

As you took another sip of your coffee, the quiet hum of the morning was interrupted by the sound of fluttering wings. An owl swooped in through the open kitchen window, landing gracefully on the counter, a neatly tied envelope clutched in its beak.

Jay sighed, setting his mug down as he reached for the letter. "That'll be from my parents."

You watched as he untied the parchment, unfolding it with a slight frown. The owl hooted softly, waiting for a response.

Jay's eyes scanned the page, his expression unreadable at first. Then, with a small exhale, he muttered, "They want to see us."

Your fingers tightened slightly around your mug. Us.

“You’re staring at it like it’s gonna bite,” he mused, taking a sip of his coffee.

You huffed. “I just don’t know what to expect.”

Jay exhaled through his nose, setting his mug down. “My parents… they’re not bad. Just… traditional. They’ll expect things to look a certain way.”

Your fingers curled around your cup. “And what if they don’t?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Then we make sure they do.”

There was something unreadable in his expression, something both reassuring and unsettling all at once. He was taking this seriously—not just the Ministry part, but the part where you both had to convince his family, too.

You bit your lip. “One thing at a time?”

Jay smirked slightly, tapping his fingers against the counter. “One thing at a time.”

You weren’t sure why the thought made your stomach twist, but something about meeting Jay’s parents, about having to present this marriage as real to them, felt heavier than anything you had prepared for.

Jay looked at you then, tilting his head slightly. "I can write back later. No rush. Honestly, let’s just get through the last Ministry visit for a while first—then we can deal with my parents."

You swallowed, nodding. "Right. No rush."

The owl flapped its wings, as if impatient, but Jay simply placed the letter aside, returning his focus to his coffee. The weight of the letter lingered in the air between you, unspoken but present.

The morning had started normally enough. Work had been relatively uneventful, save for your coworker Mina pulling you aside as you both sorted through some files in the break room. She leaned against the counter, stirring sugar into her tea with a knowing look in her eyes.

"So," she drawled, "how's married life treating you?"

You blinked. "It’s… an adjustment."

Mina scoffed, taking a sip of her tea. "Adjustment? That’s a diplomatic way of putting it. You barely look married. No ring marks on your fingers, no swooning over your husband’s lunch visits."

You huffed. "He doesn’t visit me at work, but he does pick me up after. And we do kiss and stuff."

Mina’s brows shot up, interest piqued. "Kiss and stuff? So, what, like a peck on the lips? A lingering moment? You making out against the nearest wall?"

Your face burned. "Not making out. Just… normal kissing."

Mina gave you a deadpan look before taking another sip of her tea. "Okay, listen. Make out. Suck his dick. Get laid. In that order."

You nearly choked. "Mina!"

She smirked, unbothered. "What? Jongseong is a total hottie, you’re stressed, and all this weird tension you’re feeling will go away the moment you two start properly acting like husband and wife."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "You are actually the worst."

Mina shrugged, grinning. "I’m just saying, sweetheart, at some point, you’re gonna have to stop pretending this is a polite roommate situation. Might as well enjoy yourself in the process." 

She only laughed, patting your shoulder. "I’m just saying, if you’re already forced to live together, might as well enjoy the perks, right? Bet he’s not bad in bed either."

Mina shrugged, clearly unfazed. "I’m the realist. You’re the one making this more complicated than it needs to be."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fully shake her words from your mind as the day went on.

Jay had suggested going out for lunch—something about fresh air being good for you, but you had a sneaking suspicion he was trying to get you out of your own head. The tension of the upcoming dinner with his parents had been lingering between you both, and he was trying to shift the focus.

The café was cozy, tucked into a quiet corner of the city, the kind of place that blurred the line between magical and Muggle. Small, levitating candles hovered above each table, but there was also a very prominent espresso machine steaming in the background, giving the place a strange but warm blend of both worlds.

Jay was different today. More touchy.

The first time he reached for your hand, it caught you off guard. You had been gesturing while explaining something, only to have his fingers wrap around yours mid-sentence, lacing them together as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You blinked down at your joined hands, but he only smirked, continuing to listen as if nothing had changed.

Jay tilted his head slightly. "By the way, you always talk about Niki, but what about your other friends? Jungwon, right?"

You blinked. "Yeah. Jungwon and I have been friends for a while now."

Jay hummed. "Funny. I actually tutored him for like a week back in school."

Your eyes widened. "You? Tutoring Jungwon?"

He smirked. "Yeah. He was struggling with Charms. Thought he could figure everything out by himself, but he kept botching the spellwork."

You laughed. "That does sound like him. How did it go?"

Jay shrugged. "He quit after a week. Said he learned better by messing up on his own."

You snorted. "That sounds even more like him."

Jay smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Guess we’ve had more overlapping connections than I thought."

It wasn’t until later that evening, back at the apartment, that you realized just how much more comfortable Jay had gotten with you.

You were sitting on the couch, legs curled up beneath you as you skimmed through a book, when Jay walked in, plopping down beside you with absolutely no regard for personal space. Without hesitation, he reached for your arm and tugged gently, signaling for you to shift.

You raised a brow. “What?”

Jay smirked. “Come here.”

You scoffed. “Why?”

He sighed, as if you were exhausting, before simply pulling you toward him. You barely had time to react before you were settled against his chest, your back pressed against him as he stretched his legs out comfortably. His arms caged you in, warm and steady.

“Jay,” you muttered, stiffening slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Relaxing.” His voice was easy, like this was normal. Like you hadn’t just settled directly into his lap.

You swallowed, unsure of what to do with yourself. “I—”

“You’re warm,” he murmured, voice dropping slightly.

Your heartbeat stuttered.

The worst part was that he was warm too.

After a few seconds, you exhaled, finally allowing yourself to relax into him. Jay hummed in approval, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear as he shifted slightly, adjusting his grip around you. The touch was fleeting but intentional.

“You really don’t mind all this?” you asked quietly.

Jay chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. “Mind it? I’m starting to think I like it too much.”

You sucked in a breath, but before you could respond, he nuzzled against your shoulder, his teeth grazing your ear before closing lightly around it in a teasing nibble. Your breath hitched, and your fingers instinctively gripped his arm.

"Jay—"

He didn't pull back. Instead, his arms tightened around you, and his lips moved lower, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the curve of your neck. The warmth of it sent a sharp jolt through your spine, and before you could second-guess yourself, you turned slightly in his lap, tilting your head toward him.

It happened naturally—his mouth met yours in a kiss that was slower, deeper than either of you had intended. The shift in energy was unmistakable, tension curling between you like an unspoken understanding neither of you wanted to break.

Jay's hands splayed against your back, pulling you closer as your fingers curled into his shirt, anchoring yourself. When he bit at your bottom lip, a quiet noise escaped you, and he responded by deepening the kiss, tilting his head as if he couldn't get enough.

By the time you finally pulled away, breath uneven, his forehead rested against yours, his lips just barely brushing over yours again in a lingering tease. Your heart was still racing, your hands still lightly curled against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Jay's breath was still uneven against your skin, his hands resting against your lower back, keeping you close. You could still feel the warmth of his lips, the lingering tension settling between you both like an unspoken acknowledgment.

His arms tightened slightly, and he nuzzled against your cheek, pressing a barely-there kiss against your temple. "You feel safe," he murmured, his voice lower, softer.

Your breath hitched. "What?"

Jay exhaled slowly, as if grounding himself in your presence. "With you. I feel safe with you."

The confession sent a warmth through your chest that you weren’t prepared for. Your fingers twitched slightly against his shirt, caught between the instinct to pull away and the need to stay exactly where you were.

Jay tilted his head, his nose brushing against your cheek. "You like taking care of me, don’t you?" he mused, teasing but sincere.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. "You’re impossible."

His smirk returned, albeit softer this time. "Maybe. But I think you like me this way."

You huffed, shaking your head, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let yourself sink just a little further into his embrace, knowing—deep down—you weren’t quite ready to let go yet.

"Told you you'd get used to it," he murmured, his voice husky.

“Jay,” you warned, though your voice came out softer than intended.

He only smirked, resting his chin on your shoulder like he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive. “You’re overthinking again, baby.”

And you hated that he was right.

You had been dreading the Ministry’s visit from the moment the letter arrived, confirming the final scheduled check-in before a long evaluation period. It was supposed to be a relief—this was the last time, for a while at least, that an official would come snooping around, dissecting your marriage like it was an experiment instead of your actual life.

But relief was the last thing you felt.

There was something suffocating about the expectation of passing. You and Jay had gotten good at playing your roles, good at the casual touches, the familiarity, the easy, teasing back-and-forth that had started feeling more real than pretend. But today, something felt… off.

Maybe it was because the words still echoed in your mind.

You should kiss me more.

You feel safe.

Jay had said it so easily, as if it was second nature to him now, to be comfortable around you. But comfort didn’t mean security, and today, everything felt like it was hanging by a thread.

The Ministry official, a stern-looking woman with wire-rimmed glasses, sat across from you both in the living room. A notepad in her hands, quill poised. Watching. Always watching.

“So,” she said, adjusting her glasses. “We’ve received positive reports so far on your integration as a married couple. How has the transition been?”

Jay, as always, was calm, composed, charming. “It’s been good. We’ve built a routine, settled into daily life together.”

Her eyes flickered to you. “And you?”

You swallowed. “It’s… an adjustment, but I think we’re getting there.”

The Ministry woman nodded, making a note. “Good, good. And the cohabitation aspect? Shared space, sleeping arrangements?”

Jay didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”

You nodded, feeling the walls close in around you. You wondered if she could sense the strange weight in the air, the tension neither of you had fully addressed.

She glanced down at the file in her lap. “As you know, by the next evaluation period, the Ministry will be monitoring this aspect through magical verification. We must ensure that your union progresses naturally.”

Naturally. As if any of this had been natural from the start.

Her gaze sharpened. “And, of course, I must remind you that by the second year of marriage, procreation is expected. The Ministry understands that adjustments take time, but ultimately, your union is meant to strengthen the magical bloodlines.”

Your stomach clenched. Jay’s jaw tensed.

“Understood,” Jay finally said, his tone even.

You managed a nod, even though your heart was pounding in your ears. The official studied you both for a moment longer before standing, closing her folder.

“I believe that will be all for now,” she said, giving a tight smile. “We will check in again at the next scheduled period. Until then, I suggest you continue settling into your roles as husband and wife.”

And just like that, she was gone. But her words lingered, thick like smoke in the room.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Then, Jay let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, that was fun.”

Your jaw clenched. “Fun.”

He glanced at you, sensing the shift in your tone. “What?”

You stood abruptly, pacing toward the kitchen, needing space. “Nothing.”

Jay sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Come on, baby, just say it.”

And maybe it was the way he said it—so effortlessly, so casually, as if nothing had just happened—that made something in you snap.

“Say what, Jay?” You whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “That I hate this? That I hate how the Ministry talks about children like we’re required to breed for them? That I hate how we have to act like our lives are some scripted performance?”

Jay exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You think I don’t hate it too?”

“Do you?” The words were out before you could stop them, sharp, biting. “Because sometimes it feels like you’re perfectly fine pretending.”

Jay’s expression darkened. "I’m trying to make the best of this, but you act like I’m the enemy. We’re in this together, or have you forgotten that?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "Together? Jay, sometimes it feels like you don't even care. Like you're just rolling with this because it's easier for you."

Jay’s eyes flashed with something unreadable, his posture stiffening. "What do you mean I don't care? Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I wake up every morning thrilled about the fact that my life got rewritten by some Ministry law?"

You exhaled sharply. "I never said that."

"No, but you sure as hell act like I’m the one who forced you into this." His voice was sharper now, frustration laced into every word. "I’ve been trying, okay? Trying to make this livable, trying to make it easier for both of us. But every time I do, you push back like you’d rather pretend I don’t exist."

You crossed your arms, hating the way his words stung. "I don’t pretend you don’t exist, Jay. I just—" You swallowed hard. "I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to balance what’s real and what’s not," Your heart pounded, "I haven’t forgotten that we're in this together. But maybe I wish we weren’t."

Jay’s entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter, but no less sharp. "What do you mean, you wish we weren’t?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. "Jay—"

"No, say it," he pressed, his voice laced with something raw. "Has this all just been an inconvenience to you? Have I just been another part of the mess?"

You inhaled shakily. "That’s not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" His eyes bore into yours, frustration and something else—something closer to hurt—bleeding into his gaze.

You hesitated. "I just meant… I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore."

Jay’s expression darkened further, his frustration spilling over. "It’s all real, because this is our life now! This isn’t some fantasy, or some nightmare you can wake up from. This is it. We’re here, together, and no amount of wishing it away is going to change that."

Jay let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe it isn’t normal, but it’s ours. And if we keep tearing it apart every time something doesn’t go the way we want, then what the hell are we even doing?"

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Neither of you willing to be the first to break it.

The silence that followed was deafening. Jay’s face didn’t change, but something behind his eyes did. A flicker of something that looked like hurt.

And then, just like that, the moment passed.

His jaw clenched, his voice measured. “We have dinner with my parents tonight.”

You inhaled sharply, your stomach twisting. You had completely forgotten in the middle of the chaos.

“Great,” you muttered. “Can’t wait.”

Jay exhaled, stepping back. “Just… get ready. We’ll deal with this later.”

The carriage ride to Jay’s family estate was quiet, tense. You barely spoke, both still reeling from the heated argument earlier. Jay’s gaze was fixed outside the window, jaw tight, and though you knew this dinner was important, you couldn’t shake the unease crawling under your skin.

By the time you arrived, the grandeur of the Park estate was impossible to ignore. The house—no, the manor—was a striking example of old magic, the kind of wealth that had been passed down for generations.

Tall wrought-iron gates opened with a soft creak, revealing sprawling courtyards lined with lantern-lit pathways, their glow flickering in the cool evening air. The mansion itself was regal, its high stone walls blanketed in ivy, windows aglow with warm golden light.

Jay straightened the moment the carriage stopped, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by something practiced. Reserved. This was his world, and you were only stepping into it.

A house-elf opened the massive front doors before either of you could knock, ushering you into a vast foyer lined with polished marble floors and an intricately carved staircase leading to the upper levels. The walls were adorned with enchanted portraits, all featuring past generations of the Park family—stoic figures in rich robes watching you with unsettling scrutiny.

Jay’s mother was waiting in the grand entrance hall, regal as ever. Her dark hair was elegantly styled, her robes immaculate, her presence exuding the effortless grace of someone accustomed to being obeyed.

"Jongseong," she greeted, her voice smooth but edged with expectation. "It’s been too long."

Jay nodded, a polite smile barely reaching his eyes. "You know how it is."

His father stood just behind her, taller than Jay, his presence commanding even in silence. His features were sharp, his stare assessing, but there was a flicker of curiosity when he glanced at you.

His mother’s gaze shifted toward you, scanning with the precision of someone accustomed to weighing worth. "And you must be my daughter-in-law."

The title landed heavily. Daughter-in-law. It sounded more binding coming from her than it ever had from a Ministry official.

You dipped your head slightly. "It’s lovely to meet you."

She studied you for a long moment before giving a small nod. "Come in. Dinner is ready."

The dining room was ornate and intimidating, the kind of place where silence held weight. A long, polished table stretched across the room, set with fine china and gleaming silverware. Floating candles hovered overhead, casting a warm but almost oppressive glow on the deep mahogany walls lined with more ancestral portraits.

Dinner was served in meticulously timed courses, each plate appearing at the perfect moment as house-elves moved soundlessly through the space. The food was exquisite, but you barely tasted it—your mind too occupied with the undercurrent of tension between you and Jay.

His parents, though polite, were assessing you, their questions carefully crafted to evaluate rather than genuinely get to know you.

"Tell me," his mother finally said, dabbing her lips with a pristine napkin, "how have you been adjusting to married life?"

You forced a smile. "It’s been an adjustment, but we’re finding our way."

Jay’s father hummed, swirling his wine glass. "Finding your way?" His sharp eyes flickered between the two of you. "That’s an interesting choice of words."

You felt Jay tense beside you. "We’re managing just fine."

His mother tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharper than before. "Did you two have a fight?"

Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt smaller. Had they already noticed?

Jay let out a measured sigh, fingers tightening slightly around his fork. "It’s nothing. Just—" he exhaled, sparing you a quick glance, "a disagreement."

His mother hummed thoughtfully, setting her napkin down beside her plate. "Marriage isn’t about never fighting. It’s about how you handle the fights."

His father nodded, his deep voice breaking the tense silence. "A marriage built on avoidance will always crumble. Disagreements are inevitable, but how you choose to move forward from them is what matters."

The weight of their words settled heavily between you and Jay, a third presence at the table. It wasn’t accusatory, nor was it particularly comforting—it was simply fact. And it left you feeling exposed.

His mother’s gaze lingered on Jay for a moment longer before softening just a fraction as she turned back to you. "It will take time, but if you are both willing to build something real from this, then you must learn to meet each other halfway."

You swallowed, nodding slowly. Halfway.

After dinner, as the plates vanished and the dining room emptied, Jay’s mother turned to you with a calm, knowing expression. "Come," she said, rising gracefully from her seat. "Let’s wash our hands before dessert."

You hesitated for only a moment before following her, feeling Jay’s gaze linger on you as you exited the room. The air in the corridor was cool, laced with the scent of fresh linen and aged parchment. You expected her to lead you directly to the washroom, but instead, after you rinsed your hands, she gestured toward a side door that opened into a moonlit garden.

"A walk will do us both some good," she murmured, stepping outside.

The estate grounds were vast, illuminated by the soft glow of floating lanterns. The paths were lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and arching trellises of enchanted flowers that bloomed faintly in the evening air. It was quiet, serene, the opposite of the tension you had felt all night.

She walked beside you in silence for a few moments before speaking. "I can see the weight you’re carrying, dear. You don’t need to hide it from me."

You exhaled slowly. "It’s just… a lot. Adjusting, trying to understand what all of this means, what’s expected of me… and Jay."

Her lips curled slightly, not unkindly. "My son is… difficult at times. But I know him well."

You glanced at her, uncertain. "You seem to know a lot about us already."

She chuckled. "I know marriage is not easy, especially one like yours. But I also know that my son is not as indifferent as he pretends to be. He may act as though he’s handling everything well, but I see the way he looks at you. And I see the way you look at him, even when you don’t realize it."

You swallowed. "I don’t know how to make this work."

She stopped walking, turning to you. In the dim light, her gaze was softer than before. "Then start by meeting him where he is. And let him meet you there, too."

You nodded slowly, her words settling deep within you.

Then, as if sensing your next question, she offered a small smile. "If I know my son—and I do—he’s waiting for you upstairs. In his old bedroom. He may be stubborn, but he won’t go to sleep without trying to fix things."

The warmth in her voice was unexpected, and when she placed a gentle hand on your arm, she added, "Call me Mom. Family is built over time, but you’re part of ours now."

Something in your chest tightened, but you found yourself nodding, feeling the smallest bit lighter.

"Go to him," she murmured, stepping back toward the house. "The night is long, but love is patient."

The hallways of the Park estate were quiet, dimly lit by sconces casting soft, flickering light. The house smelled like old parchment, polished mahogany, and something herbal—like a potion left brewing long enough to become part of the walls. The weight of history pressed in on you as you followed the familiar path to Jay’s childhood bedroom.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as you stood outside his door, slightly ajar, warm lamplight spilling onto the dark floorboards. Your heart was a riot in your chest, each beat slamming against your ribs.

You pushed the door open.

Jay was there. Waiting.

He sat on the edge of his bed, one elbow propped on his knee, fingers pressed to his temple like he had the beginnings of a headache. His sleeves were still rolled up, exposing the lean muscle of his forearms, and his shirt hung loosely over his frame, collar slightly undone like he’d been tugging at it in frustration. His hair was tousled—from his hands, or maybe from the weight of the night.

He looked up as you entered. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders tensed.

The room was suffocatingly personal. The bed, bigger than you expected, was covered in dark gray sheets that had long lost their crispness. The walls, lined with old Quidditch posters and bookshelves crammed with textbooks and novels, spoke of a younger, more ambitious Jay—one you had never known.

Your throat tightened. This was his space. His past. And now you were stepping into it.

You shut the door behind you, your breath unsteady.

“Your mom told me you’d be here,” you said softly.

Jay scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. "Of course, she did."

The silence that stretched between you was thick with unspoken things. You shifted on your feet, nerves crawling up your spine. It shouldn’t be this hard to talk to him.

You exhaled. "She also told me to call her Mom."

That got his attention. His brow furrowed slightly, his gaze flickering over you like he was trying to decide if you were serious. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "She gave me some advice, too. About meeting halfway."

Jay inhaled deeply, rubbing at his temple before looking at you fully. "Sounds like her."

More silence. It wasn’t cold anymore, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Just hesitant. Fragile.

Finally, he sighed. "I don’t like fighting with you."

The words hit you harder than they should have. A lump formed in your throat. "Me neither."

Jay’s eyes softened just slightly, his posture relaxing the smallest bit. "I meant what I said earlier. This… us. It’s real, whether we wanted it to be or not."

You swallowed against the sudden sting behind your eyes. Real. That word lodged itself deep in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You took a slow step forward. Then another. And another, until you were standing between his knees.

Jay’s hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

"I don’t know how to do this," you whispered, voice tight.

Jay’s throat bobbed as he exhaled, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up your hips, fingers digging into your waist just enough to make you feel it.

“Then let’s figure it out together,” he murmured.

A small, broken sound escaped you before you could stop it. His grip tightened.

Tears slipped past your lashes, and Jay’s entire expression shifted. His fingers brushed up, cradling your face, wiping them away.

"Baby, hey—" his voice dropped lower, raw. "Why are you crying?"

You let out a watery laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t know. I just—" You sucked in a breath. "You call me baby like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like we’re normal. And I don’t know what to do with that."

Jay studied you for a long moment, then tilted his head forward, pressing his forehead to yours.

His warmth seeped into your skin, anchoring you. He smelled like home.

"You don’t have to do anything with it," he murmured. "Just let me hold you."

You let out another shaky breath before you did something you hadn’t done before.

You settled into his lap.

Jay’s entire body stiffened, but he didn’t stop you. His arms came up instinctively, wrapping around your waist, holding you tighter, like he was afraid you’d disappear.

Your fingers toyed with the edges of his collar, trailing along the warm skin just beneath it. His pulse thrummed under your fingertips, fast but steady.

Then, without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant—a brush of lips meant to test the waters. But when Jay sighed against your mouth and pulled you flush against him, the hesitation melted away.

He kissed you deeper.

You could feel everything in the way he held you—his hands sliding up your spine, his fingers tracing your ribs, the weight of every moment leading up to this one.

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless. Your forehead rested against his, lips still tingling.

Then, in a hushed, teasing voice, you whispered, "I love it when you smother me with yourself. It makes me feel beautiful."

Jay froze.

Then—a deep, rich laugh rumbled in his chest. He tipped his head back, grinning. "What?"

Your cheeks burned. "It sounded better in my head."

Jay’s arms tightened around you, his lips brushing over your temple as he chuckled. "God, you’re ridiculous."

You hummed, tracing absent patterns over his chest. "But you love it."

Jay exhaled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as if he belonged there. "Yeah, baby," he murmured against your skin. "I do."

For the first time that night, everything felt right.

The morning sun poured through the windows the next morning, casting golden streaks across the bedroom floor. You stirred slightly, feeling warmth wrapped around you—solid, firm, undeniably Jay.

His arm was draped over your waist, his breath hot against the back of your neck, slow and steady. His entire body was flush against yours, the weight of his leg thrown over yours, as if he had unconsciously tangled himself around you in the night.

You froze, hyper-aware of every point of contact. His hand splayed low on your stomach, fingers curled just barely under the hem of your shirt. His breath fanned over the shell of your ear, sending shivers racing down your spine.

Then, he tightened his grip.

You sucked in a breath as his fingers flexed against your skin, pulling you back against him. A low hum rumbled in his chest, deep and sleepy.

"Mmm. Stay," he muttered, voice thick with sleep, gravelly in a way that made your stomach flip.

You should move. You should pull away. But you don’t.

Instead, you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, just for a second. The feel of him—his bare skin against yours, the solid press of his body—had your mind spiraling into dangerous places. He was so warm, so strong, so impossibly close.

Your breath stuttered as you felt his fingers slide just a little lower, his palm pressing just a little firmer.

And then, realization hit.

You jerked away, heart hammering, but Jay barely reacted. He let out a tired groan, stretching his arm over his head before blinking at you through half-lidded eyes.

"What’s wrong?" His voice was hoarse, his gaze still heavy with sleep.

You cleared your throat, forcing your voice to stay even. "Nothing. Just… we should get up."

Jay smirked, lazy and knowing.

"If you say so, baby."

The walk home was silent, but thick. Every brush of your arms, every accidental glance, every moment of quiet between you carried an unbearable weight.

You weren’t sure when it had started—this undercurrent of something more, something dangerous. But you could feel it burning beneath the surface.

When you stepped inside the apartment, the air changed.

Jay lingered near the kitchen, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. He watched you, gaze heavy, unreadable. You could feel it—the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You’re different."

You glanced at him. "So are you."

His lips quirked. "That a bad thing?"

You didn’t answer. Because no, it wasn’t. And that was the problem.

It started small. A test. A game.

You began pushing his buttons—on purpose.

Brushing past him with too much force. Leaning in just a little too close when speaking. Letting your fingers trail over his wrist absentmindedly, just to see if he’d react.

And Jay? He played back.

His palm ghosting over the small of your back when he passed behind you. His lips brushing your ear as he murmured something teasing. His fingers trailing down your spine for just a second too long.

Then came the moment when he finally called you out.

One night, as you passed him in the hallway, his hand shot out, catching your wrist.

He turned to face you, his eyes dark, smirk sharp.

"What’s this, baby? Trying to get my attention?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been. But you weren’t about to admit it.

You scoffed. "In your dreams."

Jay chuckled, but there was something dangerous in his expression now.

"Oh, I think you’ve been in my dreams, too."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. He was winning. And you couldn’t have that.

So, you did something reckless.

As you moved past him, you let your fingers drag over his stomach, just barely skimming the skin exposed by his loose shirt.

Jay stiffened.

For the first time, he looked affected. His jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his sides.

Then, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You keep playing with fire, baby."

You turned, eyes locking onto his. "And what if I am?"

His lips parted. His fingers curled into fists.

He was so, so close to losing it.

It happened in the smallest, most ridiculous way.

You were reaching for something on the top shelf in the kitchen when Jay stepped behind you, his body pressing up against yours, his hand effortlessly grabbing it before you could.

"Let me," he murmured, his voice low and deep in your ear.

You froze. Every inch of him was against you. His chest, his hips, his hands.

Then, you pressed back against him.

Jay let out a quiet, shaky breath. His fingers dug into your waist.

"You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he whispered. His lips brushed your ear, his breath warm.

You turned slightly, your lips just barely grazing his.

"Then show me."

And that was it. That was the moment. Jay grabbed you, spun you, backed you against the counter.

His mouth crashed against yours—needy, desperate, hungry. A gasp escaped you, swallowed instantly by his lips. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you onto the counter with ease.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, so, so close.

Jay broke the kiss, panting, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands shook as they held onto you. "Tell me to stop."

You shook your head. "Don’t you dare.".

The air between you and Jay was electric, charged with unspoken desire that had been simmering for far too long. It was too much now, a weight pressing down on you both, demanding to be released. When his lips finally claimed yours, it was with urgency, with hunger, as if he had been holding back for months.

The kitchen—such a normal, mundane setting—was suddenly transformed into something far more intimate, more dangerous. The cool granite countertop pressed into your back as Jay’s lips crushed against yours, sending shockwaves through your body.

At first, your lips parted in surprise, but the moment you surrendered, it was over. His kiss was hungry, his mouth moving fervently against yours, tasting, exploring, claiming. His tongue swept inside, demanding, possessive, like he was marking you as his own.

A soft moan escaped you, a sound of surrender, of need.

It seemed to unleash something in him.

His hands, which had been resting gently on your thighs, tightened with fierce intensity. His long fingers dug into the soft flesh, leaving imprints as he pushed you further into the counter, molding you against him. Your back arched instinctively, pressing your body closer, craving more of the heat between you.

The kiss deepened, turning hotter, messier. A whimper slipped from your lips, and Jay responded with a deep, primal growl, his mouth leaving yours to trail fire along your jaw, your neck.

“God, baby,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, wrecked. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, curling in your stomach. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Your thoughts were incoherent, lost in the sheer intensity of him.

Your hands, which had been resting against his broad shoulders, now tangled in his dark hair, tugging, pulling him closer. You needed more, needed to be consumed by him, needed to drown in the way he was touching, kissing, ruining you.

"Do something about it," you whispered, your voice thick with want, raw with need.

It was a challenge, a dare—one that Jay was more than willing to accept.

With a feral grin, he pulled back, his eyes dark with pure desire. “Oh, I will.” His voice was low, dripping with promise.

In a swift motion, his hands gripped your waist, strong fingers spanning your sides as he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his hips on instinct, as if you had done this dance with him a thousand times before.

And then, you felt it.

His hardness pressing against you, just enough to make your breath hitch, just enough to send a delicious thrill racing down your spine.

Jay devoured your mouth as he carried you out of the kitchen, his footsteps unsteady, his grip unrelenting. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, matching his fervor with your own.

The urgency between you both was palpable, nearly unbearable.

By the time Jay kicked open the bedroom door, his lips never leaving yours, his hands never loosening their grip on you, your entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

He stumbled inside, kicked the door shut with his foot, and suddenly, everything blurred.

You barely had time to register the bed before you were falling onto it, your body sinking into the mattress as he followed, covering you, pressing you down, making sure you felt every inch of him.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he growled, his voice thick, rough with need. “Every fucking day, I’ve fantasized about having you, about claiming you like this.”

Your fingers traced the strong lines of his jaw, relishing the roughness of his unshaven skin.

"Then take me," you whispered, a boldness you didn’t even know you possessed. “Make me yours.”

Jay’s response was immediate.

His fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head, his grip firm but careful. His free hand roamed, tracing your curves, exploring, memorizing.

His thumb brushed over the peak of your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, your body arching instinctively.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, his voice like gravel, heavy with restraint. “All of you.”

Your heart pounded as you sat up, pulling your shirt over your head, revealing the delicate black lace beneath.

Jay’s eyes darkened. His breath hitched.

Releasing your wrists, his hands moved to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing the hardened peaks, rolling, stroking, watching you squirm beneath him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his lips finding yours again, a searing, devastating kiss.

His mouth trailed down, down, down, leaving a path of kisses, nipping, sucking, making you tremble beneath him.

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, and you arched into him, desperate.

"Please, Jay," you begged, your voice a breathless plea. "I need you."

He let out a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Oh, you’ll have me, baby. But first… I want to taste you."

And then, he did.

His lips, his tongue, his fingers—all of him, taking his time, taking you apart.

You were a trembling, gasping mess beneath him, gripping the sheets, crying out his name.

And when you finally shattered, when he pulled every last moan from your lips, he moved back over you, watching you, waiting, drinking in the sight of you undone beneath him.

You reached for him, pulling him down, wrapping yourself around him, whispering his name.

And when he finally slid into you, deep and slow, filling you in one smooth stroke, you knew. This wasn’t just need. This wasn’t just hunger.

This was everything.

Jay buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning as your body clenched around him, gripping him perfectly. He moved slow, deep, deliberate. Like he wanted to make sure you felt everything. Like he wanted to ruin you.

And he did. He whispered your name against your skin.

And when you both tumbled over the edge together, it wasn’t just ecstasy. It was something more.

Something terrifying, something dangerous, something neither of you were ready to name. Afterward, Jay didn’t move.

He just held you, his lips pressing absentminded kisses against your temple, your jaw.

The sheets were a tangled mess beneath you, the room still thick with the remnants of last night—the heat, the whispered names, the overwhelming need.

But morning had arrived, and with it, clarity.

You lay still, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, stomach twisting. You could feel him beside you, the warmth of his body still clinging to yours, the weight of his arm draped lazily over your waist.

You should move. You should get up.

Instead, you stayed still, afraid to break the moment. Afraid of what came next.

Then, Jay stirred.

A slow inhale. A shift of weight. Then, his hold on you tightened.

“Baby, you know I'm in love with you right?” he murmured, his voice thick, raspy from sleep.

Your stomach flipped, heat rising to your cheeks at the way the word slipped so effortlessly from his lips.

Then, he pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder.

Something inside you clenched at the tenderness of it. The way his lips lingered, soft and warm, like he was memorizing you, grounding himself in the feel of you.

It was so different from last night. Last night had been fire, hunger, pure desire. But this? This was something else entirely.

Something terrifying.

You swallowed hard, your body going stiff beneath his touch. He noticed.

Jay let out a quiet exhale, his fingers tracing soothing circles over your hip. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I meant what I said.”

Your breath caught in your throat. His words. The confession you hadn’t acknowledged.

“I know,” you whispered.

He shifted, his grip tightening just slightly, as if afraid you’d slip away. His lips found your bare shoulder again, pressing another slow, lingering kiss.

“My Doll,” he murmured, his voice softer this time, but still weighted with emotion. “You don’t have to say anything. Not yet.”

You turned your head slightly, eyes meeting his for the first time that morning. He looked different.

Softer. More open. But just as intense. Your lips parted, but no words came. Because what could you say? You weren’t ready. You weren’t sure what this was.

But Jay just smiled, small and knowing, like he understood anyway.

“You don’t have to figure it out right now,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just… let me be here with you.”

Your chest tightened. That was the problem. He was already here. Closer than he had ever been. You didn’t know if you had it in you to push him away.

It took days. Maybe longer. But it was always there, lingering between you.

Jay never said it again, but you could feel it in everything he did.

The way he pulled you close when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he touched you—not just with heat, but with reverence. The way he whispered "Baby" like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But the moment it finally hit you, it was almost embarrassing how obvious it had been all along.

It wasn’t in the quiet nights, or the way he held you in his sleep.

It was something as simple as Jay waiting for you outside of work.

It had been a rough day. One of those days where everything felt heavy. And when you stepped outside, seeing him leaning against the lamppost, hands in his pockets, waiting for you like it was the most natural thing in the world—

It hit you like a train.

He smiled the second he saw you, pushing off the post and walking over like he couldn’t get to you fast enough. “Hey, babe. You okay?”

And instead of answering, you just stood there, staring at him—this man who had somehow become everything.

Jay frowned slightly, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You let out a breath, and before you could stop yourself, the words just slipped out “I love you.”

Jay stilled. His fingers twitched against your cheek, his expression unreadable.

Then, his lips parted. “Y/N…”

You panicked. “I—I mean it too I-”

But before you could take it back, Jay was already moving, already kissing you like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear you say those words.

And when he finally pulled back, breathless, a little dazed, he just grinned.

“You can say it again, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, but when he leaned in and whispered, “Say it again, baby,” you did.

Because you meant it.

Months later, the apartment felt different. Warmer. More like a home than a place you had been forced into.

The nursery had been Jay’s latest obsession. He had spent the entire day painting the walls, rearranging furniture, making sure everything was perfect. And now, he was sprawled across your bed, half-asleep, waiting for you.

You stood in the doorway, hand resting on your six-months-pregnant belly, watching him with amusement. His shirtless form was stretched across the mattress, hair still messy from the day’s work, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“Babe,” you called softly.

He groaned. “Mmm.”

You stepped forward, nudging his foot with yours. “You’re hogging the bed.”

Jay cracked one eye open, a slow, sleepy grin spreading across his lips. “And you’re glowing, mama.”

You rolled your eyes, crawling into bed beside him, letting out a relieved sigh as you sank into his warmth. Jay turned onto his side, one large hand coming to rest on your belly, thumb rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your shirt.

“Tired?” you asked.

“Exhausted,” he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “But you’re worth it.”

You smiled, letting your fingers trace the ridges of his forearm. “You’ve been working too hard.”

Jay hummed, shifting closer, his lips grazing your jaw, your cheek. “You’re carrying my kid. I’d build a whole damn castle if you wanted one.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He nuzzled against your cheek, voice growing drowsy. “Only for you, my Doll”

You turned your head slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Jay smiled into it, whispering, “Can’t wait to meet them.”

Your heart squeezed, warmth flooding through you.

“Me too,” you whispered, letting yourself sink into him. “Me too.”

Then, in his half-asleep state, he muttered, “But if they have your stubborn streak, we’re doomed.”

You snorted. “Then you better start preparing now.”

He pulled you in tighter, his lips brushing your forehead. “I already have everything I need.”

You yawned, stretching your fingers along his bare chest before whispering, “Come here, baby.”

Jay let out a pleased hum, shifting fully into your arms, resting his head against your shoulder. His strong arms wrapped around you, careful yet firm, his warmth seeping into your skin as he melted into you.

“Mm, I like it when you call me that,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion.

You smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Good. Because I’m not stopping.”

As sleep began to claim you both, Jay murmured, “You know, I hated every second of that damn law.”

You sighed, your fingers tightening against his chest. “Me too.”

“But…” he continued, his voice soft and full of something deep, something real, “I’ve loved every second with you.”

You smiled, pressing a final kiss to his skin. “Me too, Jay. Me too."

fin.

taglist: @wonnienyang @firstclassjaylee @belle643 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heelovesmeknot @heeseunggotrizz @jaeyunsbimbo @immelissaaa @somuchdard @jkslvsnella @vernorica123 @lillotus17

[yuriririnnie]

Wilddddd!!!! I love seeing fanfics of my biases (although I don’t see much from Soob anymore) because I just know it’ll be good.

I’m happy about how fluffy it is, but not to the point where it makes me cringe. It was just ✨ right ✨!

I love how their relationship wasn’t like a full 360 turn. It was a gradual thing and the history just made it seem more sentimental for both characters. So happy about it. Definitely recommend the read as it’s light and veeeery tolerable amount of angst.

Thanks for writing!!!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

just navigating

summary: soobin’s always thought of you as his little sister. but now, things are starting to feel… different. with soobin off studying to become a pilot, the distance only makes things more confusing.

genre: fluff!!! slight angst, not too bad

characters: childhood bestfriend!soobin x f!reader

words: 12.5k

warnings: implied sex but no smut

a/n: kinda based on caleb from lnds bec im obsessed LMFAO ;-;

“Guess who?”

Your vision darkened as two hands gently covered your eyes. The warmth of familiar fingers sent a nostalgic tingle down your spine, and you immediately recognized the tiny calluses on them.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Judging by the lack of moisture in your hands, I’d say it’s a loser.”

A dramatic gasp came from behind you. “Boo, you're no fun.” Soobin removed his hands with an exaggerated sigh before nudging you with his shoulder. “Y’know, I’d assume you’d be happier to see me.” He spun you around so you were facing him, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You hated to admit it, but he looked good—better than when you last saw him. His hair was slightly longer, brushing just above his brows, but still neatly styled like the perfectionist he was. He wore his pilot uniform with effortless confidence—the crisp navy-blue jacket adorned with insignia, gold stripes neatly embroidered on the cuffs, and a pressed white shirt underneath. The matching trousers completed the look, making him appear every bit the disciplined and ambitious aviator he had always dreamed of becoming.

“And why would I be?” You crossed your arms, looking up at your childhood friend, who stood nearly two heads taller than you.

Soobin placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. So cold. Let’s see… The last time we saw each other was a month ago, before your exams. That means the stress is over. You probably missed your favorite person on Earth—me—and now here I am, gracing you with my presence.” He grinned, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “So, I don’t see why you’re not grinning like the peach that you are.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile was already creeping onto your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“Ah, there it is! A smile!” He pointed at you triumphantly. “See? You did miss me.”

You groaned, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled, slinging an arm over your shoulder like old times. “Too late, Kiddo.”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that.” You brushed his arm off your shoulder before narrowing your eyes at him. “Also, why the hell are you here? In your uniform, no less… You’re attracting way too much attention.”

Your gaze flickered around, noticing your schoolmates whispering, gasping, and outright staring. Some pointed in disbelief, eyes wide as they took in the sight of your unfortunately handsome best friend—now made even more infuriatingly attractive in his full pilot uniform.

“I didn’t have time to change if I wanted to pick you up,” he said casually.

“You didn’t have to pick me up.”

“Oh? And who’s gonna drive you home then?”

“I’ve been taking the bus since you left.”

“Don’t say it like I abandoned you.”

You wanted to say but you did, but you swallowed the words instead.

“Alright,” he sighed, nodding. “Fine. Next time, I’ll wear a tank top and jeans when I pick you up. How about that?”

—

On the way back, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. How was work? How was his training? How was—well, how was everything? But somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask any of those questions. Still, Soobin knew you well enough.

“I’m okay,” he said, as if reading your thoughts. “I’ll always be okay.” He grinned, his eyes curling into full crescents.

You nodded. “Good. I don’t need the only person in my life to—”

“I won’t.” He ruffled your hair. “C’mon. I’m me. Do you really think something’s gonna—”

“Don’t.” You glared at him.

Soobin, with his towering height, sharp vision, and unshakable determination, had always dreamed of becoming a pilot. Ever since you were kids, he had talked about flying—how he wanted to touch the clouds, how the sky felt like the only place vast enough to hold his ambitions. You had always supported him, picturing him in a crisp commercial pilot’s uniform, announcing flight routes in his deep, steady voice.

But that wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t just want to fly; he wanted to soar. Instead of charting safe routes in passenger planes, he had set his sights on something more dangerous, more demanding. He had signed up to be a fighter pilot—a career that meant grueling training, high-stakes missions, and a future teetering between triumph and risk.

You had argued with him about it before, pleaded with him to reconsider. But Soobin, stubborn as ever, had only grinned and said, “If I’m going to fly, I might as well reach for the impossible, right?” 

“Soobin,” You attempted to argue but you knew him better than anyone else. He was just as stubborn as he was perfect. 

“I’m gonna be fine and I’m always gonna be beside you. I promise.”

And here he was, right beside you. Just like he promised.

—

The two of you sat at the dinner table, your legs swinging back and forth, occasionally bumping against Soobin’s calves.

“I like what you’ve done with the apartment,” Soobin remarked, glancing around.

“Nothing’s changed.”

“I beg to differ.” He shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth before standing up, making his way toward a single flower sitting in a makeshift vase. He tilted his head, inspecting it with amusement. “And hey, you even buy flowers now.”

“I didn’t get them,” you replied, shrugging. “You know me and flowers… I say it’ll be dead in a few days.”

“Three, max.” He chuckled before giving the flower another once-over, noticing a small tag tied on the stalk of the rose. “Beomgyu?” He turned back to you, raising a brow. “Who’s that?”

“A classmate,” you said casually. “He gave me those flowers for Valentine’s. It’s nothing, really.”

“A boy?” He muttered, his expression shifting as he sauntered over to you. “Kiddo’s all grown up.”

“He’s just a classmate, Soobin.”

You knew better than to admit that Beomgyu had actually shown interest in you. The last time Soobin found out someone had potential feelings for you, the poor boy had shown up to school looking visibly distressed—and nearly teared up every time you so much as glanced at him.

“He gave them to everyone then?” Soobin pressed.

You stayed silent.

"Oh," he smirked, his voice dripping with amusement. "So Kiddo’s got an admirer."

"It’s not like that," you tried to explain, shaking your head. "We just worked together on an assignment, and we did really well. He’s a good guy."

"A good guy," Soobin repeated, nodding slowly. "Not your favorite though, right?"

You laughed, tilting your head at him. "Are you jealous?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Kinda, yeah. I’m worried someone’s gonna take my place."

You hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. Rolling your eyes, you kicked his ankle under the table. He groaned, grabbing his leg dramatically.

"As if anyone could replace you," you scoffed. "Look… you’ve been gone for a month, we barely see each other—maybe two weeks total in an entire year—but I’m still wearing the necklace you got me. Every day. Just in case you actually remember me and decide to show up."

His playful demeanor shifted in an instant. His eyes darkened, lips pressing together as he took a step closer.

"Kiddo," he said, voice quieter now. "I do remember you."

"Sure you do."

His jaw clenched, and before you could react, he was moving—slow, deliberate steps closing the space between you.

"Do you think," his voice was low, almost dangerous, "that a single day goes by where I don’t think about you?"

Your breath hitched. The last time he was this serious was when you had accidentally shut off the electricity in the middle of his ranked game. But this was different.

Soobin stopped at the leg of your chair, leaning down until his face was mere inches from yours. His cologne—clean, crisp, a little like rain—filled your senses. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, lingering there just long enough for your pulse to stutter.

"Because if you do," he murmured, his voice dropping lower, "you’d be lying to yourself."

"Wh-why so?" Your voice came out weaker than you intended.

He exhaled softly, his hand resting on the back of your chair, effectively trapping you between him and the table.

"You always say you know me better than anyone." His eyes never left yours. "So if you really do… then you’d know just how much this—" he motioned between the two of you, his fingers grazing your wrist "—means to me."

Your heart pounded.

"I think about you before I sleep. When I wake up. When I’m in class. Hell, even when I’m up in the sky."

You swallowed hard, your breath shaky. "That’s… a lot."

"And that’s only half of it." His voice had grown impossibly deep, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers curled into your lap. The tension between you crackled, thick, suffocating. Your lips parted involuntarily, and for a second—just a second—you swore he was about to close the distance.

Then, suddenly, his smile returned, effortlessly lazy.

"But of course," he mused, pulling back just enough to make your chest tighten, "I do think of other things."

Just like that, the moment was gone. The breath you’d been holding escaped in a rush, your head spinning from the heat of it all.

Soobin, ever the tease, just grinned—like he hadn’t just turned your entire world upside down.

—

When you were nine, lost and alone for the first time, Soobin’s mother took you in. You were angry—at the world, at the circumstances that had ripped you away from everything familiar. And Soobin, a few years older, became the unfortunate target of your fury. You lashed out, pushed him away every time he tried to get close. You hated everything.

But Soobin never stopped trying.

At ten, something shifted. One morning, you woke up feeling just a little less angry. The walls you had built weren’t gone, but they had cracks. That day, for the first time, you ate the bowl of cereal Soobin had prepared for you. It was soggy by the time you finally touched it, but he didn’t care. His grin stretched wide, brighter than the morning sun, because it was the first thing you had accepted from him.

At eleven, you started lingering in his room. You never asked, never said a word, just sat there as he played video games or flipped through a book. He never questioned it. He’d toss you a controller, let you pick the next movie, slide half of his blanket over when the air got too cold.

By twelve, the two of you were inseparable. He was the older brother you never had, the one who understood your silences, who never pried but always stayed. The one who made a home feel a little less lonely.

“Soobin,” you called out, your voice barely above a whisper. The room was dark, shadows stretching across the walls as the faint glow of the streetlights seeped through the curtains. You had just woken up, your hair a tangled mess, your pink pajamas standing out starkly against the dimly lit space. But Soobin wasn’t there.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “Soobin?” you tried again, a little louder this time.

“Kiddo.”

You jumped at the sudden voice behind you, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. You turned to see him standing by the door, arms crossed, his expression amused. “What’re you doing up so late?”

You felt ridiculous admitting the truth—that the thunder had startled you, that the loud crashes outside had made the emptiness of the room feel unbearable.

“Nothing,” you muttered, hugging your pillow tighter.

Soobin tilted his head, unconvinced. “The thunder scare you?”

You stayed silent, refusing to confirm it, but he knew you too well.

With a small sigh, he walked over and patted the bed. “C’mon. Sleep here.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “What about you?”

He nodded toward the couch in the corner of his room. “I’ll sleep there. It’s fine.”

You hesitated, but the warmth of his presence was comforting. “Are you sure?”

Soobin smiled, the kind of smile that made you feel safe. “Just call my name if you need anything.”

At age 19, when Soobin told you he had been accepted into flight school, it felt like the ground beneath you shifted. You were happy for him, of course, proud even. But the truth was, a deep, overwhelming sense of devastation settled in your chest. Your rock—your anchor—was leaving. The one constant in your life, the person you could always count on, was being pulled away. 

He’d be gone for months at a time, and when he came back, it would only be for a few weekends. Maybe a week in total over the span of a year. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned away, not wanting to face him. Soobin, standing there in his oversized jacket, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looked more like a stranger than the best friend you’d grown up with. You couldn’t bear to watch him leave.

He tapped your shoulder gently, but you shrugged it off, determined to keep your composure. You didn’t want him to see how much it hurt, how much you would miss him.

“I’m fine,” you hiccuped, your voice cracking as you tried to stifle the sobs. But the tears kept coming, breaking through the facade you were desperately trying to maintain.

Soobin stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your back. “It’ll just be for a few months,” he said softly, his voice steady, though you could hear the weight of his own emotions beneath it. “I’ll come back to you the moment I can.”

But even then, it didn’t feel like enough.

—

There was something unnerving about people who could sleep through anything, even in the midst of a distressing situation. You watched as Soobin—always so unbothered, so calm—drifted off easily, his breathing steady and deep, while you lay wide awake, caught in your own thoughts.

Your relationship with Soobin had always been easy to define—older brother and younger sister. It was simple, comfortable, and familiar. But as the years passed, as you both grew older, the lines started to blur. You had friends with older brothers, but none of them had the same dynamic you shared with Soobin. Sure, Soobin wasn’t your biological brother, but he had always felt like one. And maybe that was part of the problem.

Lately, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed, wondering exactly what your relationship with Soobin was. You could be yourself around him, no question there. But somehow, there was a hesitation now, a wariness. You walked on eggshells, careful of every word, every movement. Always afraid that you might accidentally do something that would make him see you differently—make him find you... well, embarrassing.

But the thing was, it didn’t matter how careful you were. You always ended up embarrassing yourself anyway. Whether it was a slip-up in conversation or a stupid mistake that left you red-faced, it seemed like there was no escaping it. Soobin never made you feel bad for it, though. He never pointed out how awkward you could be. But that only made the moments of embarrassment sting more, because you weren’t sure if he noticed and just didn’t say anything—or if he actually didn’t mind. Or worse, if he didn’t even care at all.

You sighed, burying your face in the pillow. Whatever it was, it was complicated. And tonight, it felt heavier than usual.

—

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You muttered to yourself, standing at the entrance of your campus, staring at the sky as the rain came pouring down in thick sheets. Your bright dress, now damp and clinging to your skin, felt like a cruel joke in the face of nature's wrath. Of all the days to forget your umbrella, it had to be the day the sky opened up like hell itself.

“Need some shade?” A voice broke through your frustration. You turned to find Beomgyu, his familiar grin plastered across his face.

You sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to be stuck in this stupid rain forever. Not to mention, I have about three assignments from Mr. Kang due today.”

“You’re not done?” Beomgyu’s laughter rang out, clearly amused by your predicament.

“No,” you groaned, “I stayed up all night yesterday, playing ranked with someone who wouldn’t let me sleep.” You shot a side-eye at him.

“Weren’t you the one who kept saying, ‘one more! One more!’” Beomgyu teased, nudging you lightly as he stood beside you.

“Actually—”

A throat cleared from in front of you.

You froze, recognizing the deep, familiar voice before you even had the chance to look up. There he was. Soobin. The last time you'd seen him, he had almost kissed you at the dining table, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion.

And now, there he stood—dressed in his aviator uniform, the same one he’d promised not to wear around your campus. It was a strange mix of familiar and foreign, making your heart skip a beat. In his hand, he held a yellow umbrella, an offering that seemed to make the rain somehow less threatening.

“Soobin,” you blinked, still caught off guard by the unexpected encounter.

“Kiddo,” he said, your nickname slipping from his lips with such bite that it almost felt like a curse, the venom in his tone thick enough to feel.

“Hey, Beom. Why don’t we just catch up next time? I think... I’ll head out with my brother.” You fumbled over the words, the awkwardness of the situation sinking in.

Beomgyu looked between you and Soobin, brows furrowing. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“She doesn’t,” Soobin responded, his voice colder than usual as he tugged at your wrist, pulling you under the shelter of his umbrella and away from Beomgyu’s.

As you walked side by side, the weight of the silence between you and Soobin grew thicker with each step. The rain pelted down around you, but somehow, it only intensified the tension that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Every step you took toward his car felt like it carried an unspoken question hanging in the air, something that neither of you were ready to address.

The usual playful banter, the comfortable teasing, was nowhere to be found. It was just you, him, and the storm.

“Brother,” he repeated, his voice low, a strange edge to it. “Is that what I am?”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to say, Isn’t that what you are? but you held back. The last thing you wanted was for him to be even angrier than he already was.

“You can’t always barge into my school—” you started, but he cut you off.

“I didn’t barge in. And it’s not like I’m always around. I only get to see you three times a year,” he shot back, frustration clear in his voice.

“And whose fault is that?” You raised your voice, the heat of your own irritation rising.

The words hung in the air between you, charged with the unspoken resentment that had been building for months, maybe even longer. Each sentence felt like it was leading somewhere neither of you were ready to go.

“You don’t think this is driving me crazy?” His voice cracked, the frustration in his tone raw and desperate.

“What?” you asked, unable to understand where he was going.

“This…” He stopped walking, turning to face you fully, his eyes dark with emotion. The rain hammered down on both of you, the world around you drowned in the heavy downpour. “I dread every single time I have to go back to school, but you—" He took a breath, his chest rising and falling as if the words were physically painful. "You don’t understand how hard it is for me, do you?"

You shook your head, fighting the urge to pull away. "Then why’d you have to leave?"

His face softened, but there was still tension, thick and unresolved between you two. “This is my dream, kiddo. I can’t just give it up.”

In your head, when you were rational, you understood him. You knew this was his dream, knew he was doing what he needed for himself. But the irrational part of you—the selfish, bitter part—hated him for leaving you behind.

And right now, that irrational part was winning.

—-

Two months passed, and Soobin kept his promise, making an effort to call you, FaceTime you, and stay connected. His presence, even from miles away, felt constant, like he was always there, right beside you, despite the distance.

“My school’s having an open house next week. Care for a tour?” Soobin’s voice came through the speaker of your phone, his eyes bright as he grinned at you through the screen.

You were getting ready to go out with your friends, carefully applying your makeup, with Soobin’s FaceTime open in the background. Every so often, you'd catch him staring at you. A small smile tugged at your lips as you caught him watching.

“Sounds boring,” you teased, tilting your head as you brushed on mascara.

“C’mon. You finally get to see what I’ve been doing!” he pressed, leaning in closer to the screen. The playful glint in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“A bunch of men in sunglasses, walking around—how’s that fun?” you joked, giving him a look.

“You get to see me,” Soobin grinned, his expression softening as if that was the only reason you’d need.

You paused for a second, the playful tension between you two flickering in the air. Soobin never seemed to shy away from making you smile, and just hearing his voice was a comfort, even if it was through a screen.

“Fine. But what do I get out of this?” you challenged, a smirk playing on your lips.

Soobin’s face lit up, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “I’ll treat you to the best steak dinner in town,” he sang, practically grinning ear to ear.

“Fine.”

—

You tiptoed, scanning the expansive campus before you, feeling like a small fish in an ocean of ivy-covered buildings and sleek modern structures. This wasn’t anything like your school. While your own college had its charm—basic yet cozy—this place was a whole new level. Soobin had told you countless stories about his prestigious flight school, but you hadn’t quite grasped the sheer scale of it until now.

You scratched the back of your head, feeling entirely out of place. The student helper had handed you a map with a bright smile, showing you the way, but now, standing here, all you felt was confusion. The buildings were enormous, towering over you in their stark, polished splendor.

Your eyes scanned the map again, trying to make sense of it. "For Pete's sake," you muttered under your breath, "I'm a marketing major, not a map reader." The arrows, the numbers, the squiggly lines—they all blurred together as you tried to figure out where to go next.

You tilted your head, feeling even more disoriented. Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea to just follow the crowd and hope they were heading in the right direction, but the thought of getting lost in this campus—alone—didn’t sit well with you. Soobin had warned you it was big, but you had no idea it was this... overwhelming.

With a sigh, you stuffed the map into your bag and made your way toward the nearest building, hoping for some sort of sign. You were here for him, after all, so you might as well try to make the most of it.

“I knew you'd get lost.” You heard Soobin’s voice before you saw him, and when you turned around, he was standing there, hands casually tucked in his pockets, a grin already playing at his lips.

“Soobin!” you exclaimed, rushing toward him without thinking. You jumped into his arms, and before you knew it, his strong arms were securely around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you around with a surprised laugh.

“Whoa there!” Soobin chuckled, his voice low but warm. He adjusted you in his arms, steadying you as you both laughed. “Miss me that much?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you grinned, playfully pretending to look away as if it was no big deal, even though your heart was racing just a little faster from being so close to him.

“Well, I didn’t know our captain had a little girlfriend,” Soobin heard the teasing voice, and as he turned, he spotted his classmate, Yeonjun, casually strolling over with a knowing grin on his face.

Soobin’s cheeks flushed slightly at the comment, and he quickly shifted his gaze back to you, still holding you in his arms. You, in turn, gave him an exaggerated pout, sensing the awkwardness creeping in but unable to hide your playful smile.

"Hey!" Soobin called out, waving at Yeonjun, and then turning to you with a sheepish smile. "Uh, this is Yeonjun, my buddy from school, and this is my..." Soobin trailed off, his words hanging in the air for a moment as he awkwardly fumbled for a way to introduce you.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of his sentence. Your hands still resting on his shoulders, you felt a playful tug at your lips, enjoying the teasing moment.

“Well?” you prompted with a teasing grin, your heart fluttering with excitement.

Soobin let out a small sigh, clearly not expecting the teasing tone in your voice. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing between you and Yeonjun before simply introducing you with just your name.

You smiled, though there was a hint of disappointment in the simplicity of his introduction. It was no surprise, really. After all, things between you and Soobin had never been clear-cut. The bond between the two of you had always felt different than any friendship you’d had before. You weren't sure if it was just the history, the closeness, or something more. And maybe he didn’t either.

But for a moment, you wondered if that was the problem. Maybe Soobin was as unsure as you were about the lines between friendship and something else. You tried to push the thought away, not wanting to make things awkward with his friend or with Soobin, but you couldn't help the way your heart sank a little.

You could feel your cheeks heating up. It was funny, wasn't it? How a few words could stir up so many feelings.

You decided to let it go, brushing it off with a small laugh, not wanting to make things weird. “Well, nice to meet you, Yeonjun,” you said with a smile, even though a small part of you was still wondering what you really meant to Soobin.

—

Soobin was practically beaming as he led you through the bustling campus, introducing you to what seemed like every single person he passed. You were taken aback by how popular he was—lecturers waving at him from across the hall, students stopping to chat, and even the cafeteria lady greeting him by name. 

As he continued to show you around, he gestured toward a large open area ahead of you. Your eyes widened in awe as you saw rows of jets and small planes lined up, gleaming in the sunlight. 

“And this is, of course, where the magic happens,” Soobin said.

You stood in awe, unable to hide your excitement. "This is so cool. I had no idea it would be this... massive," you said, still taking it all in.

Then, with that mischievous glint in his eyes, Soobin shot you a confident smirk. "Wanna see me go for a spin?" he asked, clearly enjoying the attention his world was getting from you.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden offer. “Is that allowed?” you asked, your voice almost timid as you tried to understand the logistics of what he was suggesting.

Soobin waved off your concern with a casual shrug, the cocky grin still firmly in place. “Yeah, I just gotta make sure the control tower knows what’s up.” He nodded.

You laughed nervously, but the thrill of being with Soobin in his element started to take over. “Alright, Mr. Confident. Show me what you got.” You crossed your arms, trying to look more composed than you felt, but your heart was racing. 

Soobin's world was so far beyond anything you had ever imagined, and yet, somehow, being here with him made everything feel... a little more exciting.

“Soobin, what are you—” you started to ask, but he was already pulling you toward one of the planes, his grip firm but gentle on your wrist.

“C’mon,” he urged with a playful smile. “Just sit here and wear this. It’s gonna get… a little loud.” He handed you a pair of large headphones, the kind you might wear at a concert or a race track, and gently placed them on your head before you could protest.

You adjusted the thick, padded ear covers, feeling a bit out of place but oddly excited. "Loud? What do you mean by loud?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically, though the thrill was starting to build inside you.

With a grin, Soobin gave you a wink. “Trust me, you’ll see,” he said, giving you one last reassuring squeeze on your wrist before heading to the cockpit.

You watched as he climbed into the plane, his movements smooth and confident. He looked like someone born to be up there, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else, just taking in the sight of him preparing for takeoff.

“Ready to feel the wind?” Soobin called out, his voice barely audible but still full of that familiar playful tone.

You gave him a thumbs up, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I am now!”

The engine roared to life, vibrations running through the ground as the plane’s power surged forward, filling the air with an electric buzz. The noise was deafening, and the plane’s tires rolled across the runway, lifting off into the sky with incredible speed.

There he was, soaring higher and higher, the once small figure on the ground now a speck in the vast expanse above you. The excitement in your chest bloomed as you watched, a mix of awe and pride flooding over you. Soobin was up there, living his dream, and you could only watch.

As you watched him soar higher into the sky, your chest swelled with pride. The frustration, the anger, all the times you had felt hurt by his absence seemed so small now, like distant memories fading in the vastness of the present moment. Watching him take off, you realized something: those petty arguments, those moments of selfishness, they didn’t matter anymore.

“I’m really proud of you,” you said, speaking into the headphones as if the words might somehow reach him in the air. You meant it with every ounce of your being.

Through the muffled sound, Soobin’s voice came back, light but filled with warmth. “You are?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I am.”

You didn’t know if he could hear the emotion in your voice, but it didn’t matter. He had always known how you felt, even when words were hard to come by. 

—

“Do you really have to go back so soon?” Soobin’s voice carried a mix of reluctance and something deeper, something unspoken.

You glanced at your phone and sighed. “Soobin, you have class at 5, and it’s already 4:30. I’ve overstayed my welcome. The open house ended two hours ago. It’s time for me to go.”

“Where’s your hotel? I’ll come see you after my training,” he offered quickly, his words almost spilling out too fast, as if he were trying to find a way to keep you here longer.

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Doesn’t your training end at night?”

“It’s only two hours, I’ll be done by 8 at the latest,” he replied, his voice sounding more desperate, though he tried to mask it with that confident tone you were so used to.

You shook your head softly, though your heart fluttered at his insistence. “Then you should get some rest. You have that flying test tomorrow, and I don’t want to be the reason you’re too tired to focus—”

“You sound like you’re trying to get rid of me,” Soobin muttered, a sigh slipping from his lips, though there was a clear sadness in his voice that made your heart ache.

“Trust me, that’s the last thing on my mind,” you said quickly, your voice soft but sincere. “I just want you to be safe, sound, and well-rested. You’re only half a year away from graduating. You need to ace this test, Soobin. You’ve got to be the best.”

“Fine. You’re right,” Soobin sighed again, but this time, there was an underlying weight to his words. He took a step closer to you, his gaze softening as his eyes lingered on your face. It was almost as if he wanted to say more, something deeper, something that was building between the two of you.

You could see it in the way he looked at you, the way his lips parted slightly, as though he was debating whether to kiss you then and there. But instead, he pulled back, running a hand through his hair in frustration, as if trying to push away the overwhelming emotions he was feeling.

“Alright. I’ll rest. But... I’ll miss you, you know,” Soobin added quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through your chest. “I’ll miss you too, Soobin. Just take care of yourself. You’ve got this.”

–

At the hotel, you paced around, your thoughts tangled in a mess of emotions. It was your last night in town, and as much as you tried to enjoy the moments you had left, something gnawed at you. You missed Soobin. You craved more of those quiet, private moments with him, just the two of you. 

The selfish thoughts crept in again. You thought about how he was always the one picking you up from school, how he was always there for you when you needed him. But now, you wanted to do something for him. You wanted to surprise him. Maybe, just maybe, you could be the one to pick him up for once. He deserved it.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed your jacket, quickly dashing through the hotel lobby. The buzz of the night was fading around you as your heart raced with the urgency of the impulse.

“Taxi!” you called, waving your hand for the nearest one.

The cab pulled over, and you hopped in without a second thought. It was impulsive, reckless even, but you didn’t care. Tonight, you were going to make sure he knew how much you cared, how much you wanted to be there for him—just like he had always been for you.

You knew Soobin took the bus to his rented apartment across town from his school, so you waited at the bus stop for him. 

A few kids stood beside you, their laughter filling the air as they played with a strange contraption you couldn't quite identify. It looked like some kind of toy, and every minute or so, you could hear them squealing with excitement. It was adorable. For a moment, it reminded you of you and Soobin—the way you both would joke around and get lost in your little world.

“Hey, do you think I can be a pilot when I grow up?” the boy asked, gesturing toward the school in front of you.

“Sure, if you magically had good eyesight,” the girl giggled, flicking his glasses.

“That’s not very nice!” the boy pouted, clearly offended.

“I’m kidding! I just don’t want you to go. My mummy says that if you go to flight school, you’ll have to stay here for almost three years. You can’t leave me!” the girl yelled, her tone playful but filled with sincerity.

“I won’t! You’re my friend!” the boy reassured her.

“Friend?” she asked with a dramatic pause.

“Okay, fine. Best friend. But I have lots of best friends. One of them can draw really well, and another one can run really fast,” the boy bragged, puffing out his chest.

“You’re not the only one with many friends. I have one too! A friend who can do a backflip! So I think my friend’s definitely cooler than yours!” the girl argued confidently.

“Nuh-uh,” the boy shot back.

“Yuh-huh!” the girl retorted, sticking her tongue out.

“MISS!” Both kids suddenly turned and looked at you in unison, startling you.

You blinked in surprise, eyes widening. “Huh?”

“Can you please tell us whose best friend you think is the coolest?” they both asked, their little eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Just as you were about to answer, a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“What are you doing here?” Soobin’s voice rang out, and you turned to see him standing there, looking both surprised and slightly out of breath. His uniform clung to his sweaty body, his hair tousled from a long day’s work. Despite it all, he looked… really good.

“Surprise!” you smiled, the excitement bubbling inside you at the sight of him.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, and then his lips curved into a smile as he took in the scene—the two kids staring at you, waiting for an answer, and you standing there, grinning like you were up to something mischievous.

“Well, now I’m curious too,” he chuckled, his voice softening as he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving you. The tension between you two seemed to fill the air as he stood there, waiting for you to respond to the kids’ question. “Who has the coolest best friend?” 

Your eyes flicked from top to bottom, taking in Soobin as if you were seeing him for the first time. He was a pilot, for Pete’s sake. A damn pilot who looked like he belonged in a magazine. The way his uniform clung to his body, the way his disheveled hair still made him look effortlessly perfect—it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t explain.

And then, beyond all the looks, there was everything else.

He was the one who cooked for you when you were hungry (even if it wasn’t the greatest, you appreciated the effort). The one who would call you every time a thunderstorm rolled in just to make sure you could sleep through the noise. He was the one who ordered food for you during exam weeks when you’d forget to eat, completely consumed by your studies.

Soobin was the kind of person who thought of you before himself, every single time. And as you stood there, watching him, it hit you just how lucky you were to have him in your life. But it also left you wondering why you had been so reluctant to admit it.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell us whose best friend is cooler?” the little boy’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his eager gaze pulling you back to reality.

You blinked, a small laugh escaping your lips as you glanced between Soobin and the kids. There was no contest. “Well, I think,” you paused, locking eyes with Soobin. “My best friend is definitely the coolest.”

The girl rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re just saying that because he’s handsome,” she muttered, clearly unimpressed.

“Oh please, my best friend’s a pilot—that’s way cooler than whatever you’ve got going on!” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at her.

The boy gasped dramatically, pointing at you. “You’re a grown woman fighting a child!” he accused, his finger still aimed in your direction.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m just a grown woman with excellent taste.” You turned to Soobin, who was standing there, slightly amused by the whole interaction. "Don’t worry, they’re just jealous."

The kids both groaned in unison, clearly giving up on the argument. They turned away, muttering something about how unfair the world was.

“You’re such a loser.” Soobin laughed.

—

"So, this is your bachelor pad?" you asked, glancing around the apartment as you took it all in. The black and white decor was sleek and minimalist, just like Soobin himself. It was everything you'd imagined, yet still somehow more.

You hadn’t seen this place in person before, only catching glimpses of it through his Facetime calls. But now, it was real—and you were here.

Soobin had been quiet ever since the bus stop. You didn’t think much of it. He was probably just tired.

"I can cook dinner for you!" you offered, standing up from the couch, eager to do something.

But before you could take a step, Soobin reached out and pulled you back down, making you sit beside him again.

"Huh?" you blinked, confused by the sudden action. "You okay?"

He nodded slowly, but his eyes were heavy, his exhaustion evident. He reached up, his hand gently cupping your cheek before sliding through your hair.

You froze as his face came closer to yours. For a moment, you didn’t quite understand what was happening. But then, your cheeks flushed crimson as you realized. Your heart started to race, and you felt the weight of his presence more than ever before.

"Soobin?" you whispered, voice barely a sound.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. His gaze dropped to your lips, and his thumb brushed gently across them, sending a shiver through your body. "You have no idea how much I want you."

"Soobin?" The whisper left your lips again, barely audible, as you looked up into his eyes, searching for something—clarity, maybe. You weren’t sure.

His hand tightened its hold on your hair, pulling you closer. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, but it felt like the heaviest thing you’d ever heard. His fingers trailed down your jaw, before resting on your neck, gently tracing the curve.

"Soobin..." your voice was barely a breath, filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but your body knew. His face was so close now, his lips hovering just above yours. 

But before anything could happen, Soobin fell back into the couch, his eyes shutting, his body sinking with a soft exhale. The tension in the air seemed to evaporate, replaced by a quiet exhaustion you hadn’t noticed before.

You froze, caught off guard. Soobin's chest rose and fell steadily, his body heavy with the weight of the day.

You sat there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. His hand still rested near your face, but his focus was elsewhere now. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed deeply, clearly drained.

"Soobin?" You tried shaking him gently, your voice soft, but he didn’t stir.

He was asleep. Fully asleep. The weight of the day must've finally caught up with him. You let out a small chuckle, watching the way he looked so peaceful, the kind of tiredness that only came after giving so much of himself.

—

The next morning came with a jarring sound. You jolted awake as loud pans clattered together, and your eyes quickly flicked to the kitchen.

"Soobin?" You called out groggily.

"Shit, did I wake you?" His voice floated back to you, and you spotted him shirtless, moving around the kitchen with a slight sense of chaos in the air.

A part of you wanted to shield your eyes, but another part of you couldn’t help but appreciate the sight. You quickly turned away, reminding yourself that this was Soobin.

"Kinda," you muttered, still avoiding his gaze.

"I was just gonna make you some eggs before you head back to the city," he said, nonchalant, like the situation was completely normal.

You nodded, still looking away, eyes glued on the floor. "Oh."

You heard him chuckle softly as his footsteps grew louder, and then his large palm was suddenly resting on top of your head. You stiffened, feeling the warmth of his touch.

"Something on the floor, kiddo?" Soobin teased, his voice light. "I can put a shirt on if you like."

"It’s okay. It’s your house. I’m just a guest," you mumbled, your voice small as you tried to hide the way your heart was racing from the proximity.

"You’re not even looking at me," he continued, playful.

“It’s not my fault you're walking around half-naked in the apartment–” You looked up, intending to be annoyed, but your words died as you met his gaze, realizing how close your faces were. The air between you felt charged, and your eyes briefly flicked to his abs — defined, sculpted, distracting — before your face turned beet red.

“Cover up,” you muttered quickly, reaching for his shirt and tossing it to him.

He caught it with a grin, but didn’t immediately put it on, still teasing you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. "What’s the rush, kiddo? It’s just me."

You could barely manage a glare, your hands fumbling awkwardly in your lap. "Just... put it on," you repeated, your voice quieter this time.

As you sat on his dining table, you swung your legs, nudging his ankles with yours.

“You still do this?” he said, glancing at you.

“Huh?” you replied, not fully realizing what you were doing.

“Swinging your feet,” he mumbled, glancing at your legs.

“Oh right,” you quickly stopped, suddenly self-conscious.

“I wasn’t complaining,” Soobin said with a small chuckle. “In fact, I kinda miss it. Do you remember how much Mom used to scold you for that?”

You nodded with a smirk. “And you didn’t help when you constantly complained about it to her!”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Hey, someone had to take the fall. It wasn’t like you were going to stop on your own.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Right, like you were any better. Always tattling on me.”

Soobin laughed softly. “I wasn’t tattling. I was just... helping Mom keep track of your chaos.”

“I wasn’t that bad!” you protested, though you both knew that wasn’t entirely true. You both had your moments as kids.

“You were always full of energy,” he said with a fond smile. “But I think I miss that. The energy, I mean. Things were simpler back then, weren’t they?”

You paused, the weight of his words settling in. “Yeah... simpler,” you echoed, realizing he was right. Those moments, despite the annoyance at the time, had a kind of warmth to them that you missed.

Soobin glanced at you, his expression softening. "You know, you’re still my little sister, right? Even if you’ve changed a lot, I’ll always see you like that."

You looked up at him, a swirl of emotions swirling in your chest. "I know," you said quietly, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

It was funny—little sister. The words rang in your ears, and though they should’ve comforted you, they did something else entirely. You’d always taken comfort in his protective nature, his constant care, but today, the familiar title struck a chord inside you. Little sister. The term felt almost too distant now. A part of you realized, maybe for the first time, that you didn’t want to be just his little sister anymore. Maybe that wasn’t the role you wanted to play in his life.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, glancing down at the table. “I guess I’m still that little kid to you, huh?” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

Soobin’s lips twitched, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Always will be,” he said, his voice playful but with an undertone of warmth.

But as you sat there across from him, something shifted inside of you. You weren’t sure exactly when it happened, but in that moment—sitting at his dining table, surrounded by the comfort of the past—you realized something that made your heart race a little faster. It wasn’t just the memories, the shared history, that made you feel so drawn to him. It wasn’t just because you’d always seen him as the older brother who took care of you.

No, there was something more. Something deeper.

The realization hit you like a wave, and you almost choked on your breath. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, looking anywhere but at him. But you couldn’t shake the truth from your mind.

You looked up at him again, but this time, it wasn’t the same. You couldn’t look at him and think of him as just Soobin, your older brother. There was an undeniable pull between you that made your heart ache with confusion, longing, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t get it.” You felt something stirring in your chest, that uncomfortable mix of desire and confusion. “You call me your little sister…”

“Soobin looked up, brow furrowed. “Hm?”

“You call me your little sister. But we’ve kissed.” you continued, your voice tinged with frustration. You let out a bitter laugh, trying to hide how vulnerable you felt. “How is that… how does that work?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. The questions were swirling in your mind, and you couldn't stop them from spilling out. "I just—" You stopped yourself, realizing how tangled your feelings had become. You didn’t want to push him away, but you also didn’t want to continue pretending that there was nothing more than what you thought you had.

Soobin watched you closely, his expression softening. “Isn’t that what you want to be?” His voice was quieter now, more sincere.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

"Isn’t that what you want to be?” Soobin repeated, his gaze searching yours. “That’s what you called me…when Beomgyu was there.”

You stayed quiet, knowing what he had said was true.

Soobin’s expression shifted, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your words hanging between you both.

“So, what are we then?” His voice was barely a whisper, as if he feared saying the wrong thing.

You swirled your spoon around the oatmeal Soobin had made for you, the warm steam rising as you avoided looking directly at him. You were just as afraid of saying something wrong—afraid you might ruin everything. The delicate balance of the relationship you two had built, the connection you shared.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I like you. More than I should. You’re not my brother. And I don’t want you to be.”

—

The door slammed open, and there stood Soobin, eyes wild with something you couldn’t quite place. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly pulled away from Kai, one of your neighbours friends, the tension in the room thickening in an instant.

Soobin glared at Kai, and it was like a switch flipped inside of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he spat, his voice low and filled with an emotion that stung.

Kai, clearly startled by Soobin's intense reaction, scrambled to get up. “I—I wasn’t doing anything. I swear, we were just—uh, talking—”

“Talking?” Soobin sneered, his eyes darkening with jealousy. “You think I’m stupid?”

You stared, frozen, watching as Kai stumbled over his words, trying to explain himself. But Soobin didn’t let him.

“I don’t want you here. Leave.” His voice was firm, and even though it was directed at Kai, the words cut deeper than they should.

Kai, terrified now, stood up quickly, nodding vigorously. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” He turned and practically bolted out of the room, leaving you alone with Soobin, your blood boiling.

You stared at Soobin, unable to find the words for a moment, but then you exploded. “What the hell, Soobin? Are you really that possessive of me?”

“I’m not being possessive! I’m just trying to protect you,” Soobin snapped back, but you could see the way his fists were clenched, the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Protect me? From what? Him? I can protect myself, Soobin!”

Soobin took a deep breath, clearly struggling with his emotions. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “Guys... guys always have screwed-up intentions.”

Your eyes widened with frustration. “Aren’t you a guy?” you spat, your anger rising with each word.

Soobin froze. His expression faltered, and he was silent for a moment, looking at you like he was trying to process what you had just said. His face hardened.

“I’m your brother,” he finally said, his voice gruff.

“No, you’re not, Soobin,” you snapped. “We don’t even have the same parents. I’m only here because I was left alone.”

Soobin looked like you slapped him. His fists clenched tighter, and his jaw tightened. “Alone? What am I then? A doll?”

The words hit harder than you expected, and it stung more than you wanted to admit. You glared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You’re being annoying, and you can’t stand to see me happy, can you?”

Soobin’s face turned red, and he took a step closer, towering over you. His voice cracked with frustration. “Can’t stand to see you happy? Every. Single. Day, I spend my life trying to make you happy. Can’t you see that?”

You knew he was right. You knew he was always trying to make you happy, but you couldn’t let him win. Not now. Not like this.

“Whatever,” you muttered, turning to leave his room. But before you could even step away, Soobin spun you around, his hand gripping your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your breath caught in your throat as his hand pressed against the wall beside you, his body dangerously close.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he said, his voice harsh, but there was something more behind it. It was almost like he was giving you one last chance to run.

You opened your mouth to protest, to push him away, but your words died on your tongue. The air was thick between you, and before you could even register what was happening, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was rough, heated with months of tension, with everything unspoken between you. It was a kiss that demanded something—something you didn’t know how to respond to. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, his grip on you firm, like he was afraid you would disappear if he let go.

Your heart raced, your body frozen between wanting to push him away and pull him closer. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to break free, but you were too lost in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Soobin pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for air. He didn’t say anything at first. Neither of you did. It was like you were both waiting for the storm to pass.

And maybe it would, or maybe it wouldn’t. But you knew one thing for sure now: everything had changed.

—-

Four years had passed since that day, since Soobin had left for flight school. You’d buried the memory deep, locked it away like a secret too dangerous to acknowledge. After all, how could you look him in the eye again after that moment? The kiss. The way his lips had felt against yours, as if the whole world had shifted in that one breathless instant.

Kai had been a distraction, maybe. Or perhaps he had been a way for you to cope with Soobin’s impending absence, a rebellion against something you didn’t know how to deal with. After all, Soobin had been your anchor, your family, your “older brother” — until he wasn’t. Until he’d crossed that line, and left you hanging in a way you didn’t know how to understand.

You never brought it up to him. You couldn’t. How could you, when the next morning, Soobin acted like nothing had happened? He was back to being your “older brother,” carrying on like it was just another regular day. As if he hadn’t just kissed you like that, like it was nothing. And so, you pretended too. You pretended it was normal. You pretended like you hadn’t spent days afterward replaying that moment in your head, each time wondering what it meant, what it had been.

—-

The silence between the two of you was deafening. After breakfast, Soobin hadn’t uttered a single word. He was lost in his own thoughts, and it felt like the air between you had thickened, each unspoken word hanging in the space between you both.

You quickly excused yourself, heading to the shower in an attempt to clear your mind. The hot water didn’t wash away the discomfort, though. It only seemed to magnify the embarrassing tension that still lingered. You couldn’t even look at him without feeling the weight of your confession bearing down on you. You had told him everything — that you liked him, more than you should — and now he was just… silent.

When you finished, you grabbed your things, stuffing them into your bag a little more aggressively than you intended. You were angry, frustrated, and honestly just tired of the awkwardness.

Soobin hadn’t spoken to you since you’d laid it all out there. Not even a simple acknowledgment of what you’d said, what you’d put yourself through. It was as if it had never happened. And it made you want to scream.

“Asshole,” you muttered to yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

You couldn’t stay here. Not with him acting like a mute pilot. You didn’t need his silence, didn’t need the awkward tension that came with it. It was too much. You couldn’t handle it.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard the faintest rustle of movement behind you. You spun around, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but he was still there, standing by the couch, looking like he was trying to find something to say. But of course, nothing came out.

“Really, Soobin?” you snapped, your voice cracking slightly. "You’re not going to say anything? Not even after everything?"

Your hand reached for the doorknob, shame settling in your chest, when, just as you were about to leave, Soobin suddenly stood up, rushing toward you. In a flash, he locked you between the wall and his arms, trapping you.

“How could I possibly put into words how much I’ve loved you and yearned for you?” His voice was strained, raw, like every word was fighting to break free.

You froze, your breath caught in your throat. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, yet it felt as though time had stopped. The tension between you both was thick, suffocating almost, but there was something undeniable in the way he looked at you — something that made your heart race despite the anger and confusion swirling inside you.

“What?” you whispered, your voice trembling with the mix of emotions you couldn’t quite sort through.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it for so long,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours, “but I don’t know how to make it make sense. I don’t know how to explain how much I’ve wanted you — wanted this — without completely screwing it all up.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. You could feel the warmth of his body close to yours, his breath hot against your skin. You wanted to pull away, to push him out of your personal space, but something held you there. Something inside of you, a pull that you couldn’t deny.

“Then why... why didn’t you say anything before?” You could feel the frustration rising in you, mixing with the vulnerability of his confession.

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice low. “Scared that it would ruin everything — everything we have. I never wanted to make things weird, especially not with you. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this way.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes desperately searching his, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Was this real? You wanted to understand, to make it all make sense, but you were lost in the intensity of the moment.

“You’re my brother, Soobin,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of what you were trying to deny. “You can’t just—”

But he interrupted you, his voice steady yet filled with raw emotion. “But I’m not. We’re not siblings. You came into my life like a whirlwind, and now... now you’ve completely changed everything. I think about you every night, every night. How the hell am I supposed to put all this... all these emotions, these feelings, into words when nothing... nothing in the dictionary can explain how much I feel for you?”

His face was inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence consuming you. It was as though the air between you both had thickened, each word hanging in the space like a confession, unspoken yet loud in its silence.

“Soobin...” You whispered, your heart hammering in your chest, trying to find something to say, something to stop this, but you were rendered speechless by the intensity in his eyes.

“You—” His voice dropped, thick with emotion, his breath shallow. “You, who flipped my world upside down. You, who I can’t ever stop thinking about, even when I try.” He closed the gap between you, his lips so close you could almost feel them on your skin. “You, who took my first kiss.”

Your pulse quickened, and your chest tightened. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to step away, but you couldn’t. His words were pulling you in, drawing you closer despite the storm inside you. The tension between you was almost unbearable, the words unsaid, but felt deeply in the space that separated you both.

“Soobin,” you gasped, your voice cracking. “This... this isn’t... we can’t.”

But his eyes locked onto yours, unrelenting. “We can. If you’d just let me show you.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it held so much weight, so much desire. He moved just enough to make your breath catch, his body a breath away from yours. The space between you was nonexistent now.

You could feel the heat radiating between the two of you, the space narrowing as Soobin's breath mixed with yours. His hands, firm yet gentle, found their way to your wrists, pulling your arms above your head and locking them there. His eyes were searching yours, his lips barely a breath away. 

Without a word, his lips pressed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But then, as if something within him snapped, the kiss deepened. It was slow, deliberate, and all-encompassing. His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer, while your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

You felt the world tilt, as though everything in your life had led to this exact moment. The warmth of his lips, the pressure of his body against yours, made you forget everything else.

Soobin pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, both of you gasping for breath. “I don’t want to stop,” he whispered, voice low and hoarse.

You couldn’t even respond. Your heart was racing, your thoughts a blur. The emotions flooding your chest were overwhelming, but one thing was certain—there was no turning back now.

He slowly guided you toward the bedroom, still holding you close.

—

It had been hours since the two of you went to bed. You slowly woke up, peeking under the blanket and realizing what had transpired between you two. "Oh," you murmured, quickly looking away. Your eyes landed on Soobin, who was lying beside you in nothing but the sheets, his back turned.

You glanced at the clock beside you. It had been two hours since your class started, and you were in a completely different city now. One day of missed classes wouldn’t be the end of the world, but your grades? You weren’t sure.

In a panic, your hand reached for your phone to text Beomgyu and ask him to take notes for you. But before you could, you felt Soobin’s eyes on you.

"Texting another guy when we’ve just done it is crazy," he said, his voice deep with a touch of teasing.

You stiffened, quickly responding, "I’m making sure I don’t fail."

Soobin chuckled, his lips lightly pressing against your bare shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. "You can’t text a Cassandra or a Layla or something? Why does it have to be Beomgyu?"

"Because he’s my friend," you muttered, flustered.

A playful, almost possessive glint flashed in Soobin's eyes. "Right…a friend…" he said, his voice low and teasing as his arms pulled you closer.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. "Okay, okay. I get it. You’re jealous." You leaned in to kiss his cheek, a gesture of reassurance.

But then, as if to make it right, you softly placed your hand on his chest. "You know, you should really go to class. You need to keep your grades up too, Mr. Pilot."

Soobin pouted slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "I don’t want to go to class without you," he grumbled.

You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. "Well, I can’t exactly go now can I?" you teased, pushing him toward the edge of the bed.

"Fine," Soobin said with a heavy sigh, pretending to be put out but the smile on his lips was unmistakable. "But only because you told me to."

"Good," you said, kissing his cheek once more. "Now go, and maybe I’ll make it up to you later."

As he reluctantly stood up, his expression softened. "You owe me, but I’m gonna let you off the hook for now. Go crush your class, alright?"

You grinned, still a little flushed from everything, but feeling lighter now. "I will," you said confidently. "Now go. You’re going to be late."

—-

A few hours later, you had texted Soobin, explaining that you really needed to get back to the city. You had an exam the next week, and your days had been nothing short of a whirlwind with him.

You could almost hear the disappointment in his response when he begged you to stay at least until he got back from his flying test. “Just a little longer, please?” The text read, filled with sincerity and a subtle plea that tugged at your heart.

You sighed, knowing you'd just barely make it in time, but… after everything that had happened, after last night, you found yourself missing him more than usual. The way his presence had wrapped around you in a way that felt so familiar, so right. You weren’t sure if you were even ready to leave just yet.

Tapping your phone screen, you typed back, “Okay, but only because you’re being so insistent. I’ll stay until you’re back.”

His reply was quick, almost instantly: “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

You smiled at the screen, feeling your chest warm at the thought of him. You hadn't expected everything to feel so natural, so different, so good with him, and yet here you were, tangled in the very emotions that made you hesitate to leave.

—

As you waited for Soobin to come home, you decided to cook him his favorite dinner. You weren’t exactly a master chef, but you were determined to try your best. You chopped vegetables, stirred sauces, and even got a little flour on your cheek from the bread you had attempted to bake. It was a mess, but you figured it would be worth it when Soobin walked through the door. You smiled at the thought of his face lighting up at the effort you put in.

The clock ticked away, and you nervously adjusted the plates on the dining table, glancing at the meal you had prepared. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but you hoped it would be enough. You had tried. That had to count for something, right?

You heard the front door open and the sound of footsteps approaching. Then the familiar sound of Soobin’s voice calling out your name.

“I’m home!”

You quickly wiped your hands on your apron and rushed to greet him, just as he walked into the living room, still in his uniform.

As soon as Soobin walked through the door in his little pilot uniform, you couldn’t help yourself. He looked so good in it—too good. The crispness of the outfit, the way it clung just enough to show off his figure, the way his hair was perfectly messy as if he had just stepped out of a daydream. You immediately found yourself glued to his side, your body instinctively leaning against him as he entered.

Your hand rested on his arm, almost possessively, as if you needed to keep him close. You hadn’t realized how clingy you were being until Soobin, looking slightly confused, glanced at you with raised brows. “Hey, what’s with you today? You’re unusually handsy,” he teased.

You paused, your hand still resting on his arm, your fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his uniform. It wasn’t just that you missed him or that you were excited to have him home—it was something about the uniform itself. You suddenly realized that maybe it wasn’t just the comfort of his presence that was making you cling to him so tightly. You could feel your chest tighten as you looked at him.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, but then it clicked. His uniform. That was it. You shifted uncomfortably as the realization dawned on you.

Soobin’s eyes widened as he caught on. “Wait a second... you’re being extra clingy because of the uniform?”

You couldn’t hide your embarrassment, and your cheeks flushed a deep red. You averted your gaze, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “Maybe…”

He chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing your hair away from your face, though his expression still held a hint of confusion. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

But then it hit him—that moment when he pieced it all together. He wasn’t just an adorable sight in the uniform; it was the fact that you felt possessive of him, protective, maybe even a little jealous.

“Wait, is this why you hate it when I wear this to pick you up from school?” He continued, stepping a little closer to you, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. “It’s because you don’t like the idea of other girls looking at me.”

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling exposed. You didn’t want to admit it, but there was no denying it. “Maybe,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

Soobin’s gaze softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

You looked up at him, the conflict in your heart still there, but it eased just a little at the tenderness in his eyes. He really didn’t get it, did he? The fact that you couldn’t bear the thought of sharing him. It wasn’t about other girls; it was about how much you needed him for yourself.

“I know. But still,” you muttered, not quite ready to let go of your insecurities just yet.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side, his warm embrace comforting you more than you expected. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll stop wearing it outside the house,” he teased, but there was no teasing in his voice—just pure affection.

You snuggled closer, burying your face in his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can wear it whenever you want… just… maybe not when you’re picking me up from school.”

Soobin laughed softly, “That’s how I feel every time you walk out of the house.”

“Really?” You rolled your eyes.

“Walking out like that, looking naturally cute, is a heart attack waiting to happen,” Soobin said, his voice almost too serious.

You laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not! You don’t see the stares you get outside?” Soobin sighed.

“No, I don’t, because when we’re out together, I only see you,” you teased.

“All these sugary words, you do know we’re still not dating, right?” Soobin said, raising an eyebrow.

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t this morning count? I lost my—”

“I still haven’t asked you out, though,” Soobin interrupted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Okay, go ahead, ask me.”

“Like this? With me in my work uniform and you in a dirty apron?”

“There’s no better timing. Besides, I’d say yes to anything if you ask me in your uniform.”

“Oh, so that’s how I’ll get you to agree with me now?” Soobin grinned.

“Not everything. I still have a conscience and morality.”

“You do now?”

“Mhm,” you nodded playfully.

“Okay then,” he said, pulling you closer. “Wanna be my girlfriend?”

“That’s so lame.”

Soobin chuckled, his hands resting on your waist as he pulled you even closer. “What’s so lame about it?”

“You’ve got this serious, pilot face, and then you hit me with ‘Wanna be my girlfriend?’” You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at your lips. “You could’ve at least tried to make it more dramatic or something.”

He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, I see how it is. You want the grand, swoon-worthy proposal, huh?”

“Something like that,” you teased, leaning into him.

Soobin smiled, his grip tightening around you as he leaned in close. “Well, if you want drama…” He paused, eyes locking with yours, the air between you thick with tension. “How about this?”

Before you could react, Soobin leaned in and kissed you softly, but with a touch of urgency that left you breathless. When he pulled back, he looked into your eyes, a playful smile on his lips. “Now, will you be my girlfriend?”

You were stunned for a moment, your heartbeat racing. “Okay, fine. Yes,” you said with a laugh, feeling your cheeks flush. “But don’t get used to the cheesy lines.”

“I’ll take it,” he said with a grin, his voice full of satisfaction. “Guess that means we’re officially together now.”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling back. “Guess we are.”

[yuriririnnie]

Bodyguard Jay is a need.

pushing on my buttons!

pairing: bodyguard!jay x rich ceo's daughter!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, tension

synopsis: after a kidnapping attempt, your father hires jay, a cold and infuriating bodyguard you can’t seem to get rid of. you push his buttons at every turn, but as danger closes in, the tension between you turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable connection neither of you can ignore.

warnings: mentions of blood, a bit of fighting, kissing

note: i'm dropping smth two months later finallyy(i'm still in the middle of exams AGAIN). i feel like this is not my best work, i had a major writer's block with it and ended up making it basic? idk i haven't been feeling well recently with the insane amount of workload i have since the start of this year and the burn out shows in this ughh. i hope the fic isn't too bad TT enjoy!

word count 5.8k

If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist

the heavy oak doors of your father’s office loomed before you, their polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the hallway chandelier. you paused, your fingers hovering over your phone screen, scrolling through a feed of designer handbags you didn’t need but absolutely wanted. 

the text from your father had been curt, almost ominous: “my office. now.” 

you rolled your eyes. it was probably about the credit card statement again. you had a perfectly good excuse ready—charity auction, obviously. he’d buy it. he always did.

with a sigh, you pushed the doors open, not bothering to knock. “you rang?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you leaned against the doorframe, still engrossed in your phone.

your father didn’t look up from his desk. “sit,” he commanded, his voice sharp enough to make you glance up.

you blinked. okay. not a good sign.

it was then that you noticed him. the man standing beside your father, a silent shadow in the room. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed entirely in black—black tactical pants, black fitted shirt, black boots that looked like they could crush a skull without breaking a sweat. his arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but somehow radiating intensity. his face was all sharp angles and hard lines, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room with a precision that made you feel like he’d already dissected every inch of it—and you along with it.

you straightened, your phone slipping into your pocket as you took a step forward. “who’s this?” you asked, your tone light but laced with suspicion.

your father gestured toward the man, his expression unyielding. “this is jay. your new bodyguard.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and absurd. then you laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound that echoed off the mahogany walls. “you’re joking.”

your father didn’t laugh. neither did jay. in fact, jay didn’t so much as twitch. his expression remained impassive, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

you turned back to your father, your laughter fading into a scoff. “this isn’t necessary. i’m not in danger. that whole kidnapping thing? a fluke. it’s been weeks and nothing’s happened.”

your father’s jaw tightened. “which is exactly why you need protection. we’re not taking any chances.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but jay beat you to it. his voice was low, calm, and infuriatingly even. “i’m not here to be liked, just to do my job.”

your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. excuse me?

he met your glare without flinching, his expression as unreadable as a stone wall. he didn’t care. not about your annoyance, not about your defiance, not about you. the realisation made your blood boil.

“congratulations on the worst job in existence,” you said coolly, tilting your head as you studied him. “because i’m not some damsel in distress.”

jay didn’t blink. “right. you handled the last situation so well.”

your jaw dropped. the audacity. “excuse you—”

“enough,” your father interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this entire conversation. “jay will be with you at all times. this isn’t up for discussion.”

you stared at him, then at jay, who was still standing there like some brooding statue, completely unfazed. your mind raced, already plotting ways to make his life a living hell. fine. if this was happening, you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

you flashed jay a sweet, taunting smile, the kind that usually made people nervous. “try and keep up.”

his lips twitched—just barely—but it wasn’t a smile. more like a challenge accepted. “i don’t plan on falling behind.”

oh, you already hated him. hated the way he looked at you like you were a problem to be solved, hated the way he stood there like he owned the room, hated the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. but most of all, you hated that he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by you.

your father exhaled, clearly done with the conversation. “jay will start immediately. i expect you to cooperate.”

you didn’t respond. instead, you turned on your heel and strode toward the door, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. you could feel jay’s eyes on your back, tracking your every move, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder. let him try to keep up. you were already planning your first escape.

as the doors swung shut behind you, you couldn’t help but smirk. this was going to be fun.

the first twenty-four hours with jay as your shadow were unbearable. it wasn’t just his constant presence—it’s the way he moves like he knows what you’re about to do before you do it, like some kind of infuriating psychic in tactical gear.

you woke up to find him standing right outside your bedroom door. arms crossed, eyes alert, posture straight. like a soldier. like a statue. like someone who had absolutely no life outside of making yours miserable.

you glare at him, silk robe slipping off your shoulder, hair a mess. “do you ever sleep? or do you just stand there like a creep all night?”

jay doesn’t react. not even a twitch. his gaze flicks over you, assessing, before looking away.

he didn’t react. not even a twitch. his dark eyes flicked over you briefly, assessing, before he looked away, his expression as blank as ever.

“good morning,” he said, his tone flat.

you rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face.

when you went to get coffee, he was already there, waiting. the barista gave him a once-over, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the faint scar that ran along his jawline. then they glanced at you, their eyebrows raised in a silent question: are you okay? do you need help?

you forced a smile. “he’s harmless,” you said, though the words tasted like a lie. jay didn’t so much as blink.

you grabbed your latte and stormed out, jay falling into step behind you like some kind of silent, brooding ghost. you could feel his eyes on your back, watching, always watching. it was suffocating.

in meetings, it was worse. you sat at the head of the conference table, your laptop open, your team discussing quarterly projections, and there he was—standing against the far wall, arms still crossed, his gaze sweeping the room like he was expecting an ambush at any moment. every time you glanced his way, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.

you tried to ignore him. you really did. but his presence was like a thundercloud hovering over the room, dark and oppressive. by the time the meeting ended, you were ready to scream.

you had to get rid of him immediately.

attempt #1: the emergency exit 

it was simple, really. you waited until you were in the middle of a crowded lobby with jay, your phone pressed to your ear, your face the picture of distress. “no—no, stay right there, i’ll be there in five minutes,” you said, your voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. then you slipped out the back door, quick, smooth, victorious.

you couldn’t help but grin as you rounded the corner, your heart racing with the thrill of escape. finally, some freedom. finally, some—

jay was already there.

leaning against your car, arms still crossed, not even looking at you. like he’d been waiting for hours. like he’d known exactly where you’d go.

you froze, your smile slipping. “how the hell—”

he finally acknowledged you, tilting his head just slightly. his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. “you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

your fingers clenched into fists. oh. it was war.

attempt #2: the disappearing act

you waited until you were at a charity gala, the kind of event where everyone was too busy sipping champagne and gossipping to notice anything amiss. you slipped into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, your movements quick and deliberate. you ducked behind a potted plant, then made your way to the service entrance, your heart pounding with excitement.

you were almost there. almost free. and then—

“leaving so soon?”

you whirled around, your breath catching in your throat. jay stood in the doorway, his arms still crossed, his expression as calm as ever. he didn’t even look winded.

“how do you keep doing that?” you demanded, your voice rising.

he shrugged, the motion infuriatingly casual. “it’s my job.”

“your job is to annoy me to death?”

“if that’s what it takes to keep you alive, then yes.”

you glared at him, your chest heaving with frustration. he stared back, unflinching, his dark eyes boring into yours. for a moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, and you wanted to so badly give into it and just cause a tantrum. instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back into the gala, jay following close behind.

attempt #3: sensory overload

the mall was a chaotic symphony of chatter, clattering shopping bags, and the faint hum of pop music playing over the speakers. you strode through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, your eyes darting toward the exit signs. jay was a step behind you, his presence as unshakable as ever. his dark eyes scanned the crowd, his posture tense, like he was expecting a sniper to take a shot at any moment.

you rolled your eyes. “relax, rambo. it’s a mall, not a war zone.”

he didn’t respond. of course he didn’t. he just kept walking, his gaze flicking toward you every few seconds, like he was making sure you hadn’t somehow vanished into thin air.

you gritted your teeth. this was supposed to be your day. you had a date with someone your mutual friend had set you up with. your father had forbidden you from going, but since when had you ever listened to him? and yet, here was jay, ruining everything like some overgrown shadow you couldn’t shake.

you bit back a sigh. if you wanted to shake him, you’d have to get creative.

spotting a perfume shop up ahead, you darted inside, the overwhelming scent of floral and citrus hitting you instantly. jay followed without hesitation, his towering frame making the narrow aisles feel even smaller.

“why are we here?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

“to test some new scents,” you replied innocently, grabbing a random bottle and spraying it on your wrist. “you wouldn’t understand.”

jay raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

you tried a few more perfumes, using up the space on your wrists and arms. finally, you turned to him, holding up a bottle.

“hold out your arm.”

jay blinked. “what?”

“you’re supposed to test it on skin,” you said, your tone overly patient. “and i’m out of space. come on.”

reluctantly, he extended his arm. you sprayed the perfume lightly on his wrist and leaned in, inhaling deeply.

jay tensed under your touch, his muscles stiffening as your fingers brushed his skin. you glanced up, noticing the tightness in his jaw, but you didn’t comment.

“it’s not bad,” you said, tilting your head. “but maybe something lighter.”

you reached for another bottle, quickly spraying it on his other wrist. this time, you didn’t stop at one spray. you pressed the nozzle again and again, filling the air with an overpowering mix of scents.

jay sneezed once, then twice, stumbling back a step as he tried to clear his nose.

“what the hell are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled between sneezes.

“just testing!” you said, holding up your hands in mock innocence. “you’re being dramatic.”

jay glared at you, but before he could recover, you dropped the perfume bottle and bolted, weaving through the crowded store and out into the mall. you didn’t look back. you didn’t need to. you could hear his footsteps behind you, heavy and determined.

your heart raced as you sprinted through the mall, dodging shoppers and strollers. you spotted a clothing store up ahead, its entrance tucked away in a quieter corner. perfect. you ducked inside, your breath coming in short gasps as you scanned the store. the dressing rooms. that was your best bet.

you darted toward them, slipping into the first stall you saw. you yanked the curtain closed, your chest heaving as you pressed your back against the wall. for a moment, there was silence. then you heard it—the sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching the stall.

the curtain flew open, and there he was. jay. his chest was rising and falling slightly, his dark eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped into the stall, his body crowding yours as he pinned you against the wall. the curtain fell shut behind him, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.

you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. he was so close you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his neck. his hands were braced on either side of your head, his body caging you in. the air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your stomach twist and your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with running.

“you’re not as clever as you think you are,” he said, his voice low and rough.

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “and you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. “try me.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue. his eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, and something shifted between you. the air crackled with electricity, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body seemed to press closer without actually moving.

for a moment, neither of you moved. then jay stepped back, his expression shuttering as he regained control. “let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped.

you didn’t argue. for once, you didn’t have the words.

the party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint hum of a live jazz band. you stood near the centre of the room, dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged your figure perfectly, a glass of champagne in hand. you laughed at something your friend said, the sound light and carefree, but your attention was elsewhere.

jay.

he was standing across the room, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you. he wasn’t even trying to hide it. he was watching you like a hawk, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense enough to make your skin prickle.

your friend leaned in, her voice low and teasing. “he’s been looking at you all night.”

you shrugged, pretending not to care. “who? jay? he’s just doing his job.”

but the truth was, you did care. you were hyper-aware of him now, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. and it annoyed you. it annoyed you that he could stand there, so calm and collected, while you felt like you were unravelling.

so you decided to push him.

you flirted with everyone but him. you laughed a little too loudly at a joke a handsome stranger made. you let your hand linger on the arm of a guy who clearly had no idea what personal space was. you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, pretending jay didn’t exist.

but he did. he always did.

suddenly, a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky grin—stepped into your space, his hand hovering near your waist as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. his breath smelled like whisky, the proximity way too close for your comfort. 

you froze, your smile faltering. before you could react, jay was there.

he moved like a shadow, swift and silent, stepping between you and the man with a presence that was impossible to ignore. his voice was cool but sharp, cutting through the noise of the party like a knife. “hands off.”

the man blinked, his grin faltering as he took in jay’s imposing figure. “whoa, man, i was just—”

“i don’t care what you were just doing,” jay said, his tone low and dangerous. “back off.”

the man hesitated, his eyes flicking between you and jay, before he finally raised his hands in surrender and slunk away. you stared after him, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest.

when you turned back to jay, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place. he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. “you have no idea what you’re doing.”

your breath caught. “what are you talking about?”

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice rough and tinged with something that sounded almost like frustration. “flirting with strangers. disappearing into crowds. acting like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “i can take care of myself.”

“can you?” he asked, his tone challenging. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. he was close—too close—his body crowding yours, his heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and something woodsy, and it made your head spin.

as the night wore on, you couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, rough and low and so, so close. you caught yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time your eyes met his.

oh.

so he did care.

it happens slowly. or maybe it doesn’t. maybe it’s been happening this whole time, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice. but now, you do.

you start noticing the way he moves. always a step ahead, always positioning himself between you and anything that could be a threat. his sleeves are always rolled up, revealing the veins that line his forearms, his hands steady and sure. you notice the way he watches you, his dark eyes scanning every room like he’s mapping out every possible danger, but it’s never just that. there’s something else in his gaze, something you can’t quite name.

and worse? you start feeling it.

the heat in your chest when his hand brushes yours as he passes you a coffee. the frustration that coils in your stomach when someone else looks at him for too long. the way your breath catches when he says your name instead of brat or princess or whatever sarcastic nickname he’s come up with that day.

this is a problem.

but you handle it the way you always do—by pushing him.

it’s late, with the city feeling quiet, almost peaceful, and the only light comes from the flickering neon sign of a 24-hour diner. you’re sitting in a booth by the window, picking at a plate of fries you didn’t really want but ordered anyway because you were too stubborn to admit you were hungry. jay sits across from you, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the nearly empty diner like it’s a potential battlefield.

you roll your eyes. “relax, jay. the only danger here is the cholesterol in these fries.”

he just takes a sip of his black coffee, his expression as unreadable as ever.

you lean back in the booth, crossing your arms over your chest. “you know, you don’t have to babysit me 24/7. i’m not a child.”

his eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. “could’ve fooled me.”

you glare at him. “excuse me?”

he sets his coffee cup down, his voice low and even. “you act like rules don’t apply to you. like you’re invincible. you’re not.”

your jaw tightens. “and you act like you’re my dad. newsflash—you’re not.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the tension between you is thick, almost suffocating, and you can feel it building, building, building until it finally snaps.

“why do you even care so much?” you demand, your voice rising just enough to draw the attention of the tired-looking waitress behind the counter.

jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t get it, do you?”

your heartbeat stutters. “then explain it to me.”

for a second, he says nothing. he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure you out. then he stands, slow and deliberate, and slides into the booth beside you. he’s close now, closer than he’s ever let himself be, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.

you don’t back away.

his eyes flicker to your lips, and your breath catches. the air between you is so thin, so sharp you can almost taste it.

he leans in, his voice low and rough. “you have no idea what i’d do to keep you safe.”

your pulse is in your throat, waiting, waiting, waiting.

but before anything can happen—

the bell above the diner door jingles, and a group of loud, laughing teenagers spills inside, shattering the moment.

jay pulls back instantly, his jaw tightening as he slides out of the booth. he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word. he just walks to the counter, his posture rigid, like nothing happened.

like nothing almost happened.

but you know better.

you press a hand to your chest, trying to steady your heartbeat, but it’s no use. your mind is racing, replaying the moment over and over again—the way he’d looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the way your body had reacted to his nearness.

this is getting dangerous.

later, as you sit in the back of the car on the way home, you can’t stop thinking about it. jay is in the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. you stare at the back of his head, your thoughts a tangled mess.

you think about the way he’d stepped between you and that guy at the party, his voice sharp and commanding. you think about the way he’d leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

and you think about the way he’d pulled away, like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean anything.

but it did. you know it did.

you mentally groan, leaning your head against the window. this is a problem. a big problem. because no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you can’t deny it anymore.

you like him.

and that’s the most dangerous thing of all.

you don’t talk about it.

the almost-kiss, the tension that stains every interaction now—it hangs between you like a live wire, sharp and charged. you find yourself watching him more, catching the way he looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. his gaze lingers a little too long, his movements a little too deliberate, and it drives you insane.

but you don’t talk about it.

instead, you push. you push him, you push yourself, you push the boundaries of whatever this is between you. and he pushes back, always steady, always in control, until—

one day it happens fast. too fast.

you’re walking back to the car after an event, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. jay is a step behind you, his presence a constant, grounding force. you’re arguing about something stupid—something meaningless—because that’s what you do now. you bicker, you snipe, you push each other’s buttons, all while pretending the tension between you doesn’t exist.

and then, out of nowhere, it happens.

you don’t even see it coming. one moment, you’re stepping off the curb, and the next, jay is moving—swift, silent, and utterly precise. he shoves you out of the way, his body shielding yours as a figure lunges at you from the shadows.

there’s a flash of metal, a grunt of pain, and then the sound of footsteps retreating into the night.

you stumble, catching yourself against the car, your heart pounding in your chest. “jay—”

he’s already turning, his hand pressed to his side, his breathing steady despite the blood seeping through his fingers. “get in the car.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. “you’re bleeding. we need to go to the hospital—l”

“it’s nothing, just a scratch” he says, his voice calm, like this is just another day on the job. like he didn’t just take a knife for you.

but it’s not nothing. it’s not nothing because your hands are shaking as you reach for him, your fingers brushing against the warm, sticky blood staining his shirt. “jay—”

“get in the car,” he repeats, his tone sharper this time. “now.”

you don’t argue. you can’t. your mind is a blur as you climb into the passenger seat, your eyes never leaving him as he slides behind the wheel. his movements are steady, controlled, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel.

the drive home is silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. you keep glancing at him, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. fear. guilt. something else.

when you finally arrive, you follow him inside, your hands still trembling. he heads straight for the bathroom, and you trail after him, your heart hammering in your chest.

“let me see,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t argue this time. he just sits on the edge of the bathtub, his shirt already half-off, revealing the deep gash along his side. it’s not fatal, not even close, but it’s enough to make your stomach twist.

you grab the first aid kit from under the sink and kneel in front of him, your hands shaking as you clean the wound. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t make a sound, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and unreadable.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say, your voice breaking. “you shouldn’t have—”

“it’s my job,” he interrupts, his tone calm, like that explains everything.

but it doesn’t. not to you. not when your hands are stained with his blood, not when your chest feels like it’s about to collapse under the weight of everything you’re feeling.

“don’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “don’t do that again.”

he looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see it—the crack in his armour. the flicker of something raw, something real.

“you don’t get it,” he says, his voice low and rough. “i’d do it again. every time.”

your breath catches, your hands still pressed against his side. “why?”

he doesn’t answer. not with words, at least. instead, he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch so gentle it makes your chest ache.

and that’s it. that’s the breaking point.

you don’t think. you don’t hesitate. you just pull him in, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and relief. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and you’re terrified you’ve made a mistake.

but then his hands are in your hair, his mouth moving against yours, and it’s like the world stops. the tension, the anger, the fear, it all melts away, leaving nothing but the two of you.

the room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the overhead light. jay’s hands are still tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rests against his chest, and it’s almost comforting, knowing he’s as affected by this as you are.

but then he pulls back, his expression shuttering as he regains control. “we shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and rough.

you blink, your chest tightening at his words. “why not?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he stands, his movements stiff as he turns away from you. “because it complicates things.”

you stare at him, your heart sinking. “complicates things? jay, you just took a knife for me. i think things are already complicated.”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “you don’t understand.”

“then explain it to me,” you snap, your frustration bubbling over. “because i’m tired of pretending like this—whatever this is—doesn’t exist.”

he turns to look at you, his dark eyes blazing with something you can’t quite name. “you think i don’t feel it too? you think i don’t want—” he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he looks away. “it doesn’t matter what i want. my job is to keep you safe. that’s it.”

you step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “and what if i don’t want you to just be my bodyguard? what if i want more?”

he doesn’t respond. not with words, at least. but you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. for a moment, you think he might give in, might finally let himself feel something.

but then he steps back, his expression hardening. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

you laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “don’t i? because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re the one who’s scared.”

his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you’ve pushed him too far. but then he exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “you’re right. i am scared. because if something happens to you—if i let myself care too much and i can’t protect you—” he cuts himself off, his voice breaking. “i can’t lose you.”

your breath catches, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. “jay—”

he doesn’t let you finish. instead, he steps forward, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you again. this time, it’s softer, slower, like he’s trying to memorise the feel of you. and you let him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pull him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. “i can’t promise this will be easy,” he says, his voice low and rough. “but i can promise i’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

you swallow, your throat tight with emotion. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

you don’t talk about it for a full twenty-four hours.

not because you regret it. god, no. if anything, the memory of his hands on you, his lips against yours, plays on a loop in your mind, leaving you breathless every time. but now, there’s no going back. no pretending this isn’t real. no pretending you don’t feel the way his presence sets your skin on fire, or the way your heart races when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

jay is still jay. still overprotective, still infuriating, still the same stoic bodyguard who drives you up the wall. but now?

now, every argument ends with him pulling you in by the waist, his voice low and rough as he murmurs, “you’re impossible,” before silencing you with a kiss.

now, every lingering stare actually leads to something—a brush of his hand against yours, a heated glance that makes your stomach flip, a moment where the tension between you becomes too much to ignore.

and now, your father figures it out almost immediately.

it happens during a family dinner, of all things. you’re sitting at the table, picking at your food while jay sits in his usual spot by you. your father is at the head of the table, his sharp gaze flicking between you and jay with a calculating look that makes your stomach sink.

you try to act normal. you really do. but when jay’s hand brushes against yours as he passes you a glass of water, and you catch yourself smiling at him without thinking, your father clears his throat.

“so,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “when were you planning on telling me?”

you freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth. “telling you what?”

your father raises an eyebrow, gesturing between you and jay. “about this.”

you feel your face heat, your heart pounding in your chest. “i—what are you talking about?”

your father sighs, rubbing his temples like he’s already done with this conversation. “at least it’s him.”

jay freezes, his posture stiffening as he looks at your father. you gape, your mind racing. “excuse me?”

your father shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “you were always a handful, but he can handle it.”

you stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. this is not the reaction you were expecting. not even close. you were prepared for yelling, for threats, for jay to be fired on the spot. but this? this casual acceptance? it’s almost worse.

you turn to jay, still reeling. “is this really happening?”

jay looks equally disturbed, his jaw tight as he meets your father’s gaze. “sir, i—”

your father holds up a hand, cutting him off. “don’t. just… keep her out of trouble. that’s all i ask.”

and just like that, the conversation is over. your father goes back to his meal like nothing happened, leaving you and jay to exchange a stunned look.

later, when you’re alone in your room, jay leans against the door, his arms crossed as he watches you pace back and forth. “well,” he says, his voice dry, “that could’ve gone worse.”

you stop pacing, turning to glare at him. “worse? he basically gave us his blessing. that’s not worse. that’s… i don’t even know what that is.”

jay shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “guess you’re stuck with me.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away when he steps closer, his hands settling on your waist. “lucky me,” you mutter, though the way your heart skips a beat betrays your words.

jay’s smirk softens into something warmer, his eyes searching yours. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you don’t respond. not with words, at least. instead, you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “just don’t let it go to your head, okay?”

he chuckles, the sound low and warm, before leaning down to kiss you. and as his lips brush against yours, you realise something.

maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to pull away.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[yuriririnnie]

Took me some time to reblog but wow. Spicy Jay fics always have room in my recs list.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it. 

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing. 

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face. 

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth. 

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father. 

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving. 

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death. 

Eventually, they got close. Really close. 

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day. 

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all. 

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later. 

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him. 

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left. 

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too. 

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot. 

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand. 

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced. 

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention. 

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best. 

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips. 

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited. 

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles. 

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around. 

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him. 

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife. 

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do. 

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now. 

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note. 

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an  ‘Alright’. 

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you. 

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me” 

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone. 

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic. 

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact. 

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here. 

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying. 

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer. 

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods. 

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask” 

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively. 

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French!  You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments. 

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad. 

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side. 

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again. 

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what. 

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt. 

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch) 

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him. 

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud. 

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.  

… 

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action. 

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room. 

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note). 

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really. 

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest. 

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number. 

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open. 

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying. 

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note. 

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you. 

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too. 

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer. 

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug. 

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face. 

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief. 

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it. 

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern. 

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure. 

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either. 

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back. 

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance. 

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers. 

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests. 

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father? 

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment. 

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left” 

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless. 

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously” 

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples. 

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition. 

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close. 

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence. 

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles. 

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris” 

____ 

Shortly after, Jay returned to France. 

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you. 

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you. 

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked. 

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were. 

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied. 

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings. 

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense. 

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare. 

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it” 

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time. 

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay” 

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say. 

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name” 

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?). 

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself. 

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for. 

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it. 

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy. 

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you. 

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live. 

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home. 

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it. 

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food. 

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't. 

What  shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind. 

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in. 

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural. 

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey” 

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved. 

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen. 

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you. 

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile. 

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head. 

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him. 

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add. 

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually. 

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again. 

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true. 

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no. 

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer. 

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here. 

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name. 

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him. 

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day. 

 “Wait here” Jay  said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you” 

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you. 

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall. 

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes. 

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting. 

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else” 

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words. 

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure. 

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again. 

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it. 

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes. 

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on 

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven. 

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books. 

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all” 

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book. 

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you. 

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark. 

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face. 

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale. 

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you. 

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious. 

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying. 

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?” 

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different. 

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him. 

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up. 

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic” 

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still,  watching you. 

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way. 

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet. 

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single. 

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes. 

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing. 

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after” 

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit. 

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day. 

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.  

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass. 

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall. 

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind. 

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious. 

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner. 

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you. 

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further. 

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.  

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same. 

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from? 

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. 

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is. 

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table. 

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it. 

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone. 

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong. 

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed. 

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience. 

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf. 

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature. 

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island. 

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him. 

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has. 

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous. 

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even. 

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable. 

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling. 

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head. 

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose. 

Were you? 

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone. 

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close. 

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time. 

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out. 

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much” 

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart. 

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble. 

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments. 

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful. 

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia. 

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise. 

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen. 

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too. 

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you. 

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“Older” you correct, too deliberately. 

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't. 

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all. 

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true. 

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too. 

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink. 

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always. 

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close. 

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room. 

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter. 

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then. 

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed. 

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly). 

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake. 

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does. 

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want. 

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen. 

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world. 

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet. 

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night. 

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board. 

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter. 

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him. 

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head. 

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home. 

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you. 

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him. 

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons. 

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction. 

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say. 

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you. 

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good. 

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him. 

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would. 

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her” 

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?” 

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you. 

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off. 

____ 

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep. 

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely. 

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder. 

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”,  as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now. 

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of  “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk. 

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments. 

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door. 

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno. 

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t. 

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable. 

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face. 

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you. 

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea. 

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to. 

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words. 

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice 

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you.  It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his. 

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough. 

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is. 

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care. 

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together. 

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel. 

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either. 

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all. 

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention. 

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself. 

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling. 

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it. 

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.  

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start. 

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake. 

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?” 

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?” 

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him. 

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this. 

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling. 

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement. 

“You should go to sleep” he swallows. 

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to. 

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you. 

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that  actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door. 

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question. 

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face. 

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring. 

________ 

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times. 

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to. 

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still,  he’d watch his friend on stage every time. 

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant. 

Tonight is  also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress. 

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now. 

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind. 

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion. 

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way. 

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all. 

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long. 

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels. 

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin. 

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing. 

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass. 

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same. 

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it. 

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever. 

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do. 

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course. 

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him. 

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment. 

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly. 

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though. 

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him. 

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher. 

“Am I?” you breathe out. 

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin. 

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening. 

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even. 

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants. 

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him. 

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and  leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily” 

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.  

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was.  She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed. 

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news. 

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister,  complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed. 

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him. 

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through. 

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life. 

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can. 

Right now, you  couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to. 

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious. 

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him. 

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body. 

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well. 

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice  almost makes it sound true. 

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened. 

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion. 

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night. 

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it. 

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it. 

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones. 

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from. 

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable? 

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk. 

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you. 

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch. 

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world. 

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of  his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm. 

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight. 

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand. 

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about.  “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened. 

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he? 

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question,  making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief. 

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses. 

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic. 

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate” 

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it? 

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere. 

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this. 

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine. 

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore. 

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker. 

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice. 

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life. 

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace. 

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply. 

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him. 

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city). 

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least. 

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips  “I miss you”. 

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all. 

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer.  He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him. 

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you. 

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad  at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart”  

_____ 

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning. 

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks. 

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that. 

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend. 

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that. 

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree. 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed. 

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him. 

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other. 

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway. 

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile. 

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod. 

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick. 

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you. 

He swallows, and nods, knowing  he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother. 

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it. 

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him. 

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed. 

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry. 

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned. 

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it. 

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him. 

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter. 

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”  

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak. 

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer. 

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it. 

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?” 

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned. 

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt.  He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat. 

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me” 

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off. 

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer? 

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you. 

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder. 

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open. 

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay” 

And so he does. 

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month. 

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction. 

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free. 

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home. 

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy. 

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely. 

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be. 

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs. 

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion. 

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get. 

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment. 

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words. 

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly. 

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in. 

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office. 

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden. 

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't. 

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious. 

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly. 

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of  ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would. 

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock. 

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form. 

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. 

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length. 

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body. 

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that. 

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings. 

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button. 

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?” 

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound. 

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..” 

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable. 

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker. 

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though. 

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness. 

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances. 

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend. 

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir. 

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

[yuriririnnie]

I took way too long to read and reblog this!!! But so totally worth it!!! Omg, it was so good! 😭 I’m so happy it was so wholesome and giddy and I just wanna read more of the same kind over and over again! The relationship between the muse and Hee just felt so gradual and natural—like it really wasn’t forced.

The lead was super carefully written and despite her sadness in the end, I was so glad she didn’t stay sad and was really mature about the realization of their, well, reality. Lmao

Thank you for writing!!! 10/10 would recommend!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

fine line ── l. hs

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au, convenience store worker!reader || angst hehe, crack, eventual fluff

↳ ✎ᝰ 15.4k (gasp, she kept it under 20k????)

↳ contains ── so much bickering and banter, reader is kinda sassy and a lil crazy, heeseung is a lil weirdo at first, CRACK (this entire fic revolves around EXTRA HELL FIRE RAMEN PLS), angst, both heeseung & reader can't communicate their feelings & are stubborn as hell, tension tension tension! , deep conversations about life choices lol, cursing

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── IM ALIVE (barely) ! i survived a global expedition (one 12 hr flight) just to come back and face an apocalypse (i got a bug infection and a cold) but dragged myself out of my deathbed (my comfy bed) to finish editing this because i told yall i would and bc i felt bad ghosting everyone for a week LOL apologies (if anyone cares,,,pls tell me u do or i'll cry rn) anyways i hope yall enjoy this one,,,this one was fun to write, it felt very sitcom-y and was lowkey based off of backstreet rookie vibes (only bc it's set in a convenience store). i hope you all enjoy & pls let me know what you think :') thank u for the support & love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

It’s simple, really. 

Customer service voice on, a smile plastered on your face, greet the customer, scan the item, take their money, bag said item, throw in a half-hearted ‘Have a good night!’

And repeat. 

Well, most of the time. 

Occasionally, there’s the fun of kicking out a few drunk teenagers looking for a bathroom that you definitely don’t have (yes you do). But otherwise, this graveyard shift at your local corner convenience store? 

Total dream job. 

You get paid—as in actual, legit money—to sit behind a counter, scan snacks, and feast on your personal holy trinity of microwavable cheesy ramen, peach juice, and potato chips. What could possibly go wrong? 

At least, that’s how the manager sold it during your interview. And by interview, you mean the three-minute conversation that went something like: 

“Can you work nights?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool, you’re hired.” 

No background check, no follow-up questions, not even a glance at your resume. A broke college student with insomnia and schedule flexibility? You were the perfect candidate. 

And it’s not like you’re picky. You needed cash, and this seemed like a pretty solid deal. What can you say? College is expensive, and someone’s gotta fund your caffeine addiction and deeply specific (and yet completely necessary, you would argue) habit of playing at every single claw machine game you stumble across. 

So yeah. Easy work.

At least, that's what you thought.

Because on the night of your first shift, exactly at 1:09AM, the doorbell gives its friendly little ding, and in walks...something.

Someone?

Whatever it is, it's a walking shadow. Oversized hoodie. Baggy pants. A baseball cap shoved under the hood. A black face mask covering whatever’s left of his identity. You think it’s either a ninja, a celebrity in disguise, or—more likely—a vampire who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Joseon era (you’re leaning more towards vampire).

But more than the wild theories running around in your head, something else piques your curiosity.

Because unlike the other weirdos that usually shuffle in at these ungodly hours, this one moves with true purpose. He beelines straight to the ramen aisle, snags something off the top shelf (most likely the ultra-spicy soup one because, of course, you already have the shelves memorized), and then grabs a bottle of coffee milk from the cold drinks section without even so much as glancing at it.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Like he’s done this a thousand times before and is now on autopilot mode.

You watch, intrigued. And then—horrified.

Because who in the right mind pairs volcanic spicy ramen with coffee milk? Is that even legal?

You’re barely recovering from your own appalled thoughts before he’s already at the counter, placing his borderline apocalyptic snack combination on the counter in front of you with the same eerie precision he has.

You fail to keep your poker face on when you scan his items, your face scrunching up in disgust.

“Uh,” you shake it off, forcing yourself back to reality, “That’ll be—”

But before you can even finish your sentence, he’s already fishing out the exact amount—three crisp bills—out his back pocket and holds it out for you.

There’s a beat of silence.

You stare down at the money in his hand for a second too long, suddenly convinced this guy practices his convenience store interactions in the mirror or something.

When you don’t show any further signs of moving, he eventually gives up, placing the money on the counter with a quiet sigh, grabbing his ramen and coffee milk, and striding off to the self-service corner like he personally owns the place.

All of this. Without. A single. Thank you.

Wow. Okay. So tonight’s customer is potentially a vampire with a side gig as a professional jerk. Good to know.

You internally scoff at the entire interaction, but—unfortunately for you—you can’t look away. Because this guy? This walking shadow?

You’re weirdly intrigued. Like when you accidentally click on a pimple-popping video and immediately regret it, but still end up watching five more.

It’s a curse.

Out of the corner of your eye (because obviously you’re not staring, you’re just…hyper-aware of your surroundings), you watch him execute his ramen-and-coffee-milk routine with the precision of a man possessed.

Step one: Hot water in the ramen cup.

Step two: Ramen into the microwave.

Step three: Wait for exactly one beep before yanking the microwave door open with alarming speed, as if he's scared to even give the second beep the chance to ring.

Step four: Peel the lid back in slowly—so painfully slow you're about to march over there and do it yourself.

Step five: Insert the straw into the coffee milk—of course, perfectly right in the center. Bullseye.

Honestly? It's all kind of impressive. Horrifying, but impressive.

And, of course, just when you think you might finally look away, because out of sight, out of mind—he slides onto one of the bar stools by the window, right in your direct line of vision. The perfect spot for you to get a pristine view of his back, which, spoiler alert, is completely unhelpful in your personal mission in trying to see even a glimpse of what this guy looks like.

Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can make out his face in the reflection of the store window. Maybe. Just maybe—

Nope.

All you catch is a brief glimpse of his eyes—barely visible beneath his excessive hoodie and hat combination. Even his mask stays glued to his face and you wonder how he even plans on eating his outrageous meal.

But even so, you still can’t look away. What even is that color? And why can’t you look away?

Whatever. It’s just eyes. Totally normal. Everyone has them. Not noteworthy at all.

Except it is.

Because you catch yourself still squinting, hoping the glare of the fluorescent lighting against the window hides your not so subtle mission from him. You’re probably risking retinal damage at this point with how hard you’re trying to decode this guy’s entire identity from literally just his eyes.

You catch another short glimpse of his eyes as he shuffles in his seat and just as you’re trying to piece together why his eyes look oddly familiar—

He looks up.

His eyes catch yours in the glaring reflection of the store's windows, and you freeze.

Abort mission. Now.

You cough—loudly, dramatically—and your eyes immediately dart elsewhere, your hands shuffling on the discounted candy bars displayed on the counter top, pretending to look busy and silently praying he didn't catch you looking for too long.

When enough time passes by, you risk another quick glance back at him, to see he’s now digging into his ramen, head tucked so low you can’t even see his eyes anymore. He’s gone full turtle mode.

You lift a brow.

Weirdo.

A weirdo with an ego. Slurping and sipping away at his crime-against-humanity meal as if he owns the building.

Maybe he's mute. Or a people-hater. Or a cryptid who thrives on ramen and coffee milk instead of human interaction. Maybe I'm being pranked?

You shrug it off, because no matter how hard you try to figure him out, one thing is glaringly obvious: he does not want to be bothered.

And you're not sure if that makes him more intriguing or more annoying.

You’re in the clear. At least, you think you’re in the clear. 

After your first weird encounter with Mr. No-Name-No-Face—spicy ramen enthusiast and potential vampire—you’ve begrudgingly adjusted to his nightly visits. 

He shows up at 1:09AM like clockwork, grabs his neon red Extra Spicy Hellfire Ramen (yes, that’s the real brand name, and yes, your soul dies a little every time you even have to think about it), and parks himself in the window seat across from your counter like it’s a Michelin-star ramen bar—and not your humble convenience store with a health inspection rating of B+ (don’t ask). 

By night three, you’ve downgraded him from potential murderer to mildly annoying ramen connoisseur. 

By night four, you’ve decided he’s your own personal karma sent by the universe. 

It starts off with the door chime. You don’t even flinch. 1:09AM. Right on schedule. 

You don’t look up from the colorful juice pouches you’re restocking. You’re halfway through creating a perfectly symmetrical pyramid display—color-coded, of course—because, clearly, you’ve peaked as a human being. 

Behind you, footsteps head straight to the ramen aisle. And sure enough, you peek over your shoulder, and there he is: drowning in black hoodie layers, hood up, mask on, the patron saint of please don’t perceive me. Same old routine, same old—

Wait. 

He freezes, mid-reach for his usual ramen on the top shelf, his hand hovering in the air. And then, horrifyingly, he turns. 

And looks directly at you. 

Your face heats up—probably not as red as the hellfire ramen he was about to grab, but it’s close, you imagine. You find yourself clutching onto the random juice pouch in your hand as if it’s your lifeline before you clear your throat, “Uh—is something wrong?” 

He glances from you and back to the shelf in front of him, and for the first time in…ever, he speaks. 

Gasp. 

So we can cross mute off the list. 

“They’re out of my flavor,” he says. His voice is deep, which isn’t surprising to you, given he’s the literal human embodiment of the color black, but it’s also serious. So unnecessarily serious that you almost laugh. 

Almost. 

Because his tone isn’t just serious—it’s accusatory. As if you personally raided the ramen aisle and hid his favorite flavor for entertainment. 

Excuse me? 

Your mouth opens then closes, flopping like a fish that now deeply regrets every life choice. The fire rising in your chest is about two seconds away from erupting into a full-blown lecture on how supply chains work, but you keep it in, deciding getting fired on the fourth day probably doesn’t look good on your resume. 

Instead, you plaster on a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Uh..yeah, it looks like it,” you deadpan, inching closer to where he’s standing to investigate the shelf. 

Leaning up on your toes, you scan the shelf for any hidden Hellfire cups, hoping some miracle will save you from continuing this interaction. 

Nope. It’s empty alright. Emptier than your will to entertain his dramatics. 

“Tragic,” you glance back at him, strategically avoiding eye contact, and settle on offering a shrug. “There are plenty of other flavors. Maybe try…the regular spicy?” 

You grab the flavor below his usual one and hold it up as an olive branch, but he cuts you off with a tone that even convinces you that you’re deranged. 

“No.” 

You blink. 

“No?” 

“It has to be Extra Spicy Hellfire.” 

You blink again. 

You wait for the punchline.

It never comes. 

This man is dead serious. 

You’re standing in the middle of a fluorescent-lit ramen aisle, at your minimal wage night-shift job, at 1:12AM on a random Tuesday, and this guy is dead serious. 

And he’s staring at you like this is a life-or-death situation. And judging from the look in his eyes, it’s looking like you’re facing death. 

But then, you really notice his eyes. And for a split second—just a split second—you’re derailed from your rising anger. 

They’re brown. But not just any brown—the kind of brown that makes poets write bad metaphors. Cinnamon swirls. Autumn leaves. Possibly falling in love in a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

But then you blink again, hard, snapping yourself out of whatever ridiculous moment your sleep-deprived brain just conjured. This is not the time. You’re literally staring at, like, three inches of this guy’s face. 

And he’s a jerk. Get a grip, Y/N. 

“Uh, yeah,” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound professional through your disbelief. “Sorry. We probably put in our shipment request late. But I’m sure you won’t implode by going one night without it?” 

You tack on a small laugh and smile at the end of your sentence, hoping to lighten the mood. 

He does not smile back. 

Not even a flicker. 

Instead, he continues to stare at you like you just suggested he eat plain, untoasted bread for the rest of his life. 

You want to bury yourself into a hole. Maybe getting fired on the fourth day won’t be so bad afterall. 

“I’m sure the regular spicy one is just as good. What’s the worst that could happen?” you offer weakly when he makes no sign of saying anything, and you really hope this guy doesn’t explode in front of you—mainly because you’re not confident in your own ability to explain that situation to your manager. 

“I’m not risking it,” he finally deadpans. 

Your jaw drops slightly. 

“You’re not ris—” you hesitate, debating whether you want to ruin your night further. But you’ve come this far. “You’re being…serious?” 

The question lined with your clear judgement hangs in the air between you two, and no amount of fake customer service can mask the expression of disapproval on your face. 

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs, “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Oh, I understand,” you tilt your head, your annoyance slowly reaching a boiling point, throwing all professionalism out the window. All you wanted was to enjoy your juice-sorting in peace, not babysit this walking ramen manifesto. “I understand that you’re just picky.” 

At that, his eyes flash—sharp, unreadable. “I’m not picky.” 

“You won’t eat a perfectly fine ramen just because it’s not named after the ninth circle of hell.” 

Silence. 

He stares at you with the intensity of someone about to write a strongly worded online review. 

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he finally mutters, “Fine. I’ll take the mild one.” 

You blink at the flavor in your hand—the one that’s clearly labeled in giant, blazing-red, font: Regular Spicy. Then you look back at him. 

“You mean regular spicy.” 

“Right. Whatever. Same thing.” 

He grabs the ramen cup from your hand and stalks off to grab his usual coffee milk, leaving you stranded in the middle of the ramen aisle, questioning every life choice that brought you here. 

Before you’re about to mentally spiral, his voice cuts through the store. 

“Hello?” 

Oh. Right. Your job. 

You scramble back to behind the register, quickly moving your hands to ring him up and get him out of here as soon as possible. 

He hands you his three crisp bills, and before you hand him his glorified ramen and godforsaken coffee milk, you hesitate, pulling them back slightly. He freezes, his hands hanging in the air between you two. 

“You know,” you narrow your eyes as you look up at him, “some people would say thank you for the recommendation.” 

His brow arches—or at least, you think it does. It’s hard to completely tell under his stupid hat. Then he fires back—

“And some people wouldn’t forget to restock the ramen.” 

Your mouth falls open, your words failing you as he grabs his goods from your hands, heading to the self-serve station to continue his nightly noodle worship as if he didn’t just verbally body-slam you. 

Yeah. It’s going to be a long night. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic. 

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore? 

Between back-to-back choreo sessions, recording tracks at hours that shouldn’t legally exist, and navigating the emotional and physical minefield of constant shows, interviews, photoshoots—you name it—nothing about his life is consistent. 

However—

There are two things—two sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness. 

The first? 

Insomnia. 

Not by choice, of course. He doesn’t love being awake at 3AM, staring at his ceiling and waiting for sleep to take over. But it’s a loyal companion, like a stray cat that keeps showing up at your house no matter how hard you try to shoo it away. Heeeseung’s insomnia is always there for him, night after night, ensuring he gets exactly only four hours of sleep—with a side of existential dread. 

And the second? 

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk. 

Yes, it’s a weird combo. 

No, he doesn’t care. 

This unlikely pairing is Heeseung’s personal slice of heaven he can actually control and choose in a life otherwise ruled by the rest of the world. 

Every night, he drags himself to his favorite corner store, grabs his fiery ramen and sweet, creamy coffee milk, and plants himself in the window seat to enjoy his culinary masterpiece in peace. 

Then—and only then—can Heeseung catch a few hours of sleep, the spice-induced euphoria lulling himself into a temporary state of calm. 

Does he have a problem? Absolutely. 

Is he addicted? Without a doubt. 

Does he care? Not in the slightest. 

Because in a world that demands he change at the drop of a hat, this little routine of his is the one thing that stays consistent. 

Well, except for last night. 

Because last night, someone dared to disrupt the cosmic balance of his existence. Someone failed to restock his precious Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen. 

He had stared at the empty spot on the shelf, the betrayal hitting him like a personal attack. He went home last night only a quarter satisfied from the mild spicy ramen he had settled with. 

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the someone responsible. 

Now here he is, stepping into the corner store at 1:09AM, ready to make up for last night’s disappointment of an outcome. 

Heeseung steps into the brightly lit store, the familiar ding ringing behind him as he enters right on time. He continues his familiar route to the ramen aisle, but not before shooting a quick glance from below his hat toward the counter. 

Yup, there she is. 

You. 

The new graveyard shift employee. The one who dared to challenge his sacred ramen ritual and stared at him like he was a walking poor life choice. 

You’re here again. This is five nights in a row. Heeseung wonders if you 1) are insane, 2) have no life, or 3) are purely here just to spite him. 

But tonight, he’s prepared. His focus is razor-sharp, his mission clear: Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk. Nothing will get in the way tonight. 

Heeseung looks up, exhaling in relief when he spots the fiery red packaging of the Extra Spicy Hellfire sitting innocently on the shelf. There you are. 

He grabs the cup (with too much excitement that it should honestly embarrass him), cradling it like a long-lost love, before he makes his way to snag his coffee milk. 

Perfect combo. Perfect routine. Perfect night. 

Except—

Except, of course, you’re watching him. Again. 

He doesn’t even need to look up to know it. He can feel your judging eyes burning into the back of his head like you did the other night—like you’re seconds away from filing a report against his own taste buds. 

He doesn’t get it—what’s so strange about ramen and coffee milk? It’s not like he’s dipping the noodles in it. Why you’ve made it your personal mission to antagonize him, he has no idea, but it’s really throwing him off his ramen zen. 

Heeseung sighs to himself as he steps up to the counter, making sure you hear the sheer misery in this voice—because, of course, fate has cursed him with yet another encounter with you.

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and that same unimpressed, judgmental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What's right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spicy and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help,” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

By night six, you don’t know whether to pity the guy or stage an intervention.

The ding of the automatic doors announces his arrival, as usual, at exactly 1:09AM. You know it’s him—Ramen Guy. The guy who you’re convinced single-handedly continues to keep the Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen business float. 

You lean against the counter and subtly watch him make his usual pilgrimage to the ramen aisle, internally scoffing to yourself at the weird moment he picks up his ramen like it’s his newborn child.

He’s so weird. 

You wonder what kind of person he is outside this convenience store. Does he always make such objectively strange choices? Like, does he wear socks with sandals? Does he mix his cereal with orange juice instead of milk? 

Your haunting thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his usual unholy pair of snacks hitting the counter in front of you with a soft thunk. You look down at the items before glancing back up at him with a skeptical look on your face, “You ever think about switching it up?”

Ramen Guy, clearly expecting the snark, doesn’t miss a beat, “You ever think about minding your business?” 

“Not really. Boredom makes me nosy,” you shrug. “And at this point, you’re the only thing keeping me entertained at this hour.” 

He rolls his eyes so dramatically you’re mildly concerned he might sprain something. 

“And I’m starting to think you like judging me a little too much.” 

“Wrong. I like judging everyone equally,” you scan his items, then tilt your head. “But maybe you’re a special case. With issues.” 

To your surprise, he snorts. Like, an actual, out-loud laugh. 

“Says the girl who voluntarily works the night shift.”

Your smirk falters for half a second. He catches it.

Ramen Guy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. “What? Too close to home?”

You shift in your spot, “Bold of you to assume I have issues.”

He shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shift the attention back to him. “What about you, then? Why do you keep showing up here, huh?”

At that, something changes. The words in the air, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his demeanor—the slight awkwardness in the way he shifts his weight. 

Then, after a brief pause, he meets your gaze and throws the question right back at you.

“Why do you keep working the night shift?”

You freeze, putting his items back down on the counter, caught off guard by the reversal. "Touché. But I asked first."

There's hesitation again for a moment, his fingers tapping the edge of the counter impatiently—nervously?

"I like the peace and quiet,” he finally says, and for the first time tonight, he meets your eyes.

For a split second, you’re startled by the sincerity in his gaze and sudden shift in tone—it’s almost distracting. But you shake yourself out of it just as quickly.

"Nothing about Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk sounds peaceful or quiet," your voice softer now but still teasing.

"Okay, Miss Graveyard Shift," he fires back, leaning a little closer over the counter. "Why are you here every night? Do you have a thing for fluorescent lighting and cleaning up after drunk customers or something?"

You don't miss the faint challenge in his voice as you narrow your eyes at him.

Then, you settle for a shrug and take a breath, answering honestly.

"It's flexible. Pays well enough," you start, before looking back at him, and add, almost as an afterthought, "...and I like the quiet too."

It’s an honest answer, one that seems to hang in the air between you two for a beat too long. His gaze softens ever so slightly, and you swear you see something shift underneath that stupid cap of his, but before you can dwell on it, he straightens up.

He places his three bills on the counter, grabs his items, and pauses.

“So,” he starts, his lighter tone breaking the silence, “do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Graveyard Shift Girl?”

You raise a brow, amused, as you start putting his bills away, “Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Ramen Guy?”

For a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something smug, something entertained. And you don’t know it, but under his mask, his lips twitch, fighting back a faint smile.

“Touché,” he murmurs, echoing your earlier words before stepping back from the counter, items in hand, but lingers just a moment longer than necessary—like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards the self-serve station, falling back into his regular routine.

And you should do the same.

You try to do the same. But as you go back to your usual tasks—wiping down the counter, restocking shelves, pretending to be productive—you find yourself sneaking glances out of the corner of your eye toward his window seat.

He just sits there, just like he always does, stirring his ramen absentmindedly as he stares out into the empty street. And yet, tonight, something feels…different.

It’s nothing. You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just curiosity. Natural, given how he keeps showing up every night, breaking up the monotony of your shift with his weird food choices and even weirder personality.

And yet—

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to stop thinking about him—the way he looked at you earlier, the way his demeanor shifted even slightly.

It’s nothing.

Still, your gaze flickers back at him, catching the way his fingers tap lightly against the table, lost in thought. You wonder what kind of things keep a guy like him up at night.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to find his weird little habits endearing, too.

The faint sound of the store’s music plays in the background, the clock ticks, and eventually, he finishes his ramen, tosses his trash, and makes his way toward the door.

And then—he hesitates.

Just for a second. A small pause, a barely-there moment where he stops, glances over his shoulder just slightly—just enough to look at you.

“See you tomorrow, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

You blink, caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can manage is to stare at him. Then, as you fail to ignore the weird blooming feeling in your chest, your words slip out almost on instinct:

"Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

The next night, you do something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—you take your cheesy ramen, peace juice pouch, and bag of potato chips and plop yourself down right next to Ramen Guy and his usual window seat. 

He pauses mid-slurp. Keeping his head low, he turns to you slowly. Suspiciously.

“What…are you doing?” 

“Having dinner,” you say matter-of-factly, popping open your bag of chips. 

His gaze drops to your meal, and then back to you. “It’s almost 1:30AM.” 

“Okay? Dinner, early breakfast, midnight snack, call it whatever you want,” you shrug, unbothered as you continue unwrapping your meal. 

Ramen Guy exhales through his nose, shaking his head to himself like he’s just accepted his fate. Without another word, he turns back to his own meal and resumes eating. 

A surprisingly comfortable silence follows—the only sounds filling the empty store the quiet hum of the store’s playlist, the buzz of the lights above you, and the synchronized slurp of two insomniacs with poor diet choices. 

Then, without thinking, you tilt your bag of potato chips, holding it out between you two, “Want one?”

He stops mid-motion, as if he’d almost forgotten you were still here.

Almost.

A glance into your bag, a small shrug, and then, just like that, he grabs a chip and pops it into his mouth, moving so fast you barely catch a glimpse of his face without the mask.

“Thanks,” he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee milk, still keeping his head low.

You hum in response, your fingers drumming against the counter before your curiosity wins the best of you, “So…what kind of life leads you to seek peace and quiet in a convenience store?”

It’s a question that’s been on your mind since last night’s conversation. What can you say? You’re a creature of curiosity.

Ramen Guy shrugs next to you, “What do you mean?”

“Like…you’re here every night. Why at night? Why not during the day?”

He lets out a short chuckle. “You want me to leave?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

You exhale sharply, your fingers now absentmindedly swirling the noodles in your bowl. “Look, I’m just saying—most people are asleep at this hour.”

He smirks. You can hear it in his voice without even looking. “You’re here too, aren’t you?”

“That’s different, this is my job,” you scoff, amused, before pointedly gesturing at this meal before him, “Unless you want to call your weird habits a job. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was paying you to subject your tastebuds to that every night.”

And he laughs. It’s small, barely there, but you catch it. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally answers, “It’s like I told you before, I like the quiet at this hour…I don’t get a lot of that.”

You stop twirling your noodles, the air shifting into that same unspoken understanding from last night. Faint, but unmistakable.

Something unsaid hanging between the two of you, something that tells you this guy is more than just an insomniac with questionable food choices.

You tilt your head. “So, what, you got a bunch of loud roommates or something?”

A small, almost knowing smile tugs at his lips. “Something like that.”

You raise a brow at his vague answer but don’t press. Instead, you nod towards his food. “And your criminal meals? That part of the quiet too?”

He huffs, “Maybe I just have superior taste.”

“Right, totally,” you laugh, the tone in your voice almost testing him. 

Ramen Guy finishes up his meal, wiping his mouth quickly with a napkin before putting his mask back on and finally turning to face you fully.

He narrows his eyes at you, “You think you have me all figured out?”

You mirror his actions, facing him fully for the first time tonight, folding your arms, “Oh, I do have you all figured out, Ramen Guy.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward slightly. “Alright, go on. Tell me who I am, Graveyard Psychic Girl.”

You roll your eyes but accept the challenge, leaning back in your seat.

“You’re a creature of habit, clearly. You like consistency. Probably because your life is very inconsistent otherwise.”

Ramen Guy doesn’t react, so you continue.

“You’re a night owl, but not by choice. You want to sleep, but your brain won’t let you.” Your eyes flick down to the coffee milk. “So, instead, you drink this, even though it probably makes it worse.”

Still no response.

“So now, you just keep showing up here because it’s predictable,” you finish with a small shrug. “And maybe…‘cause you’re kinda lonely.”

That makes him pause.

You immediately regret saying it. Because…what was that?

That was too much. Too deep. Too intrusive.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t deflect. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or peer them at you the way he does a million times a night.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“…Not bad,” he says finally, reaching for another chip from the bag in your hands.

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, kinda harsh, but…mostly true.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that.

A beat of silence passes before Ramen Guy speaks up again, “So basically, you’re saying we’re the same.”

You let out a snort, “Not even close.”

“We both work weird hours. We both like the quiet. We both eat the same convenience store junk food.” He holds up the bag of potato chips before eating another one.

“You just started eating those,” you deadpan. 

“Yeah, but I’m still eating them, which means my taste is obviously elite.”

“You literally eat coffee milk with nuclear ramen.”

“Okay, you’re the one who made it weird.”

A mischievous smile starts forming on your face as you snatch your bag of chips back from him, “So you agree your food choices are weird?” 

His smirk falters as a small giggle rises out of you. 

“Whatever you say, Graveyard Shift Girl.” 

The next night, Heeseung does something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—he’s late. It’s 1:30AM, well past his usual 1:09AM show-up time, and the store is Heeseung-less.

He blames late-night dance practice. He also blames Ni-ki for stealing his usual black hoodie—forcing him to spend an extra thirty minutes looking for another one. Not that the hoodie matters, he would argue (yes, it does).

When he finally steps through the door at 1:32AM, the familiar ding barely finishes echoing before—

“Wow,” you drawl from behind the counter, arms crossed. “Tragic. Unbelievable. I was starting to think you found a new place to bother.”

Heeseung snorts, making a beeline for the ramen aisle, “You wish. Wouldn’t want you to get bored without me.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, “Wow. Thoughtful and self-aware. Who knew you had layers?”

Heeseung tries to ignore you, moving to grab his coffee milk. But his lips twitch under his mask, and he’s glad it’s hiding the way he’s failing to fight the smile growing on his face.

When he finally reaches the counter, you push off from where you were leaning against the counter, hands settling on your hips. “Okay, be honest. Outside of this, do you have anything else going on in your life?” 

Heeseung raises a brow, completely caught off guard. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the past few nights, it’s that you’re incredibly nosy. And for someone who claims to like working the night shift because of the quiet, you’re absolutely terrible at keeping things that way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You mentioned that you work weird hours yesterday,” you gesture vaguely at him. “So, spill.”

His stare remains blank, debating if he can distract you by handing you his three bills of cash (he can’t).

“I do…stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeat, “Quite riveting.”

Heeseung exhales, “Why do you care?”

You shrug, taking his cash and putting it away. “You must do something interesting. You’re too weirdly confident for a guy who just bums around convenience stores at night.”

Heeseung scoffs. "Weirdly confident?"

"Yeah, like—" You wave around you. "You walk around like you have some big, mysterious purpose. But all I ever see you do is glare at instant noodles and sip milk like a sad Victorian child."

Heeseung shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Maybe that is my purpose."

Then, he simply shrugs. But there’s something in his gaze—something unreadable, like he’s deciding exactly how much he wants to say.

"It’s hard to explain,” he finally says. “I just…have a weird work schedule.”

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in, I don’t really get normal hours. Always moving, always working. Makes sleep kinda impossible."

You pause, taking in his words. Then, you shift slightly, crossing your arms. "Sounds exhausting."

Heeseung exhales a laugh, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea."

For a moment, a familiar and warm quiet fills the air as the two of you linger, as if waiting for the other to say something more.

And he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels a little too tight—like he’s let you stumble into a part of him you weren’t supposed to see yet.

“Well,” you say quietly, your lips curving into a soft smile that sends a weird jolt through his body that he chooses to ignore. “I’m honored you’ve chosen this fine establishment as your official sanctuary.”

He scoffs, reaching for his items. "Don’t let it go to your head, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

He then turns to head to his usual corner when—

“Y/N.”

Heeseung pauses, turning back at you like an awkward child lost in the middle of a store.

“My name,” you clarify, casually returning to sorting the register’s bills. “A lot easier to say than Graveyard Shift Girl.”

Heeseung gives you a slow nod, something unfamiliar and unplaceable twisting in his stomach as he turns back around.

And when he finishes his meal and leaves that night, he calls out—

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And, this time, he doesn’t fight the smile under his mask when he hears your voice, a little softer, call back out:

“Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

It happens the moment he steps inside.

Heeseung doesn’t even make it past the threshold before a familiar melody drifts through the weak convenience store speakers and to his ears.

Familiar because he’s heard it a thousand times.

Familiar because it’s literally his voice singing the line.

His stomach drops.

Instead of his usual beeline to the ramen aisle, Heeseung turns towards the counter where you’re idly tapping on your phone, oblivious.

The hum of the melody continues, and Heeseung is suddenly too hyper-aware of how loud his own voice sounds in the otherwise dead-silent store.

Panic creeps up his spine.

He moves fast, crossing the store in a few long strides, slamming his hands down onto the counter that divides the two of you.

You jump in your seat.

“Geez—” you clutch your chest, wide-eyed as you take in his very sudden, very urgent presence. “What the hell?”

Heeseung ignores you, pointing above him, “Did you put this on?”

Your brows furrow as you put your phone down, glance up at him, then at the speakers he’s pointing at. You barely register the song before recognition flickers across your face.

“Oh—this? Nah, it’s the store’s playlist,” you gesture towards the iPad behind the counter, currently playing a Current Hits playlist on shuffle. “It’s some group’s new song. Pretty catchy.”

Heeseung just stares at you, mind racing.

You don’t recognize it.

You don’t recognize his voice.

The realization sends relief crashing over him, but he quickly snaps out of it with a brand-new problem—because now he has to decide what the hell to do with this information.

Does he tell you? Drop the act and lay it all out? Would you believe him? Would you even care?

“You okay?” Now you’re staring at him, suspicious. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

Heeseung clears his throat, realizing his stance is way too conspicuous, and slowly removes his hands from the counter to stand up straight, attempting to sound normal, “No reason.” 

You squint at him.

Then—

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Wait.”

His heart stops. Oh, shit. She figured it out. This is it.

“Are you a fan?” you blurt, leaning forward in your seat eagerly.

Heeseung blinks.

…What.

“Oh, you totally are,” you continue, completely missing the way his soul is currently leaving his body. “You came straight to the counter like a man on a mission. Oh my god. Are they, like, your favorite group or something?”

Heeseung has never wanted to laugh and cry at the same time more than he does in this moment.

“Something like that,” he mutters, bringing a hand to rub this temple, because no way this is happening right now.

You beam brightly from your seat, “That’s cute. Who’s your bias?”

At that, Heeseung does laugh—because this is now officially the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

There’s a long pause.

And then—after a deep breath, a long and heated internal debate, and one last glance at your innocent, completely oblivious face—he finally exhales, looking you straight in the eye.

“This guy,” he says as he hears his own voice ring out through the store. “Because that’s me. That’s my voice.”

Silence.

You stare at him.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then, after what feels like an eternity—

“…Huh?”

Then you tilt your head. "I'm sorry—what?"

Heeseung watches as your expression cycles from confusion to skepticism to outright disbelief. He braces himself.

"My name is Lee Heeseung," he repeats slowly. "From Enhypen."

Another beat of silence.

Then—because you’re you—

You burst out laughing.

"Okay, Ramen Guy," you snort, crossing your arms. "Very funny.”

Heeseung sighs, "I knew this would happen."

"Because you’re delusional?"

"Because you don’t pay attention."

You roll your eyes, "Oh, I’m sorry, but when in our thriving relationship have you ever given me a reason to believe that you’re actually a famous idol and not just some guy who has concerning dietary habits?"

Heeseung groans.

He regrets everything. He regrets this entire conversation. He could have lied. He could have said literally anything else. But no—he had to be honest. And look where that got him.

"I’m serious," he insists, leveling you with a look.

You stare back at him.

Then, something seems to click in your brain, because you suddenly lunge for your phone.

"Oh, we’re doing this," you mutter, fingers flying across the screen as you type in his name. "Let’s see if—"

You stop.

Heeseung watches as your eyes widen, scanning the images in front of you. Then you look up at him. Then back down at the phone.

Then back at him.

“Take the mask off,” you mutter quietly, slowly holding your phone up next to his face.

With an exhausted sigh, Heeseung does what he’s told and pulls it down for the first time in front of you.

You scan him. Then the phone. Then him.

"You've gotta be shitting me," you breathe.

Heeseung shrugs, "Told you."

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing.

You don’t know what shocks you more—the fact that a literal celebrity has been standing in front of you this whole time, or the realization that the once-random stranger you used to relentlessly tease has, somehow, always been this ridiculously good-looking all along. 

"So…you’re famous?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that?" You shove your phone toward him, your screen now displaying the group’s Instagram page. "You literally have fans. Like, millions of them."

Heeseung cringes, "Okay, you don’t have to say it like that."

"Like what? Like you’re a superstar and I’ve been treating you like a regular guy who can't cook for himself?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am?"

“Unbelievable,” you scoff, shaking your head. “So you sing. You perform. You—commit crimes against humanity with your ramen choices each night.”

Heeseung groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” you echo, standing up from your seat behind the counter. “So you’re telling me that every night, an actual, real-life idol has been showing up here, inhaling a week’s worth of sodium, and I—” You pause, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you even allowed to be eating this garbage?”

“And are you ever able to mind your own business?” Heeseung counters, now fully regretting this entire conversation.

“Absolutely not, Lee Heeseung, because this is literally the plot of a drama,” you wave your hands in disbelief. “Mystery insomniac convenience store guy turns out to be a world famous pop star—”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away.”

“—and I, the unsuspecting cashier, unknowingly roast him every night like he’s just some sleep-deprived college student instead of a millionaire with talent. Wait—” you then pause again, placing your hands on your hips, staring at him with a newfound judgment. “—you’re loaded, aren’t you?”

Heeseung pinches the bridge of your nose, exasperated, “Why is that your takeaway from this?”

“You are!” you exclaim, your smile widening as you ignore his suffering. “You’re rich and you’re out here eating instant ramen every night!”

Heeseung groans again, dropping his head onto the counter in front of you, “Oh my god.”

Grinning, you bend down to this level. “So this whole time, you’ve been lying to me?”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at you. "It’s not lying. It’s…selective honesty.”

You scoff, straightening up just as Heeseung does, meeting his gaze with an accusatory squint. “That’s literally the definition of lying.”

“Look, it’s not like I planned to make a habit out of this,” he gestures to the store around him. “I came in one night, and then I came back, and suddenly, I had a thing going. Then you showed up and started running your mouth, and—”

“And you kept coming back anyways,” you finish, crossing your arms, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips.

Heeseung freezes. His mouth opens. Then closes.

“…Yeah.”

A silence stretches between you—charged, almost personal—until you decide to cut through the tension with a smirk.

“What if I play your group’s music over the speakers every night?”

The look on his face is deadly. “You wouldn’t.”

Your grin grows, “Wouldn’t I, though?”

“This is the worst night of my life,” Heeseung drags a hand down his face and turns towards the ramen aisle. “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, c’mon,” you tease, calling out after him and delighting in his suffering. “Also can we talk about how you literally just said you’re your own bias?”

“Shut up.”

You’re still laughing when he returns to the counter thirty seconds later—Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk in hand, cheeks tinged pink.

“Alright, serious question,” you say, leaning in slightly from your seat at the window barstools. “If you had to give up either Extra Spicy Hellfire or coffee milk for the rest of your life, which would you choose?”

Heeseung immediately stops chewing, his chopsticks frozen midair as he turns to you with a look that says you just personally offended him.

“That’s straight evil.”

“You must choose, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “You can’t just throw life-altering hypotheticals at me like that.”

“Choose.”

He stares at his ramen. Then at this coffee milk. Then back at you.

Then back at his ramen.

Then back at you.

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Aw,” you flash him your sweetest, most infuriating smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Like, ever.”

Heeseung shoots a glare at you, “I hope your regular spicy ramen tastes like disappointment.”

“Oh, it totally does,” you look down at your own ramen in front of you and take an exaggerated slurp, “It’s just so awful.”

Heeseung’s lips perk up into a smile at your weirdly endearing antics before shaking his head, “You’re a lost cause.”

You giggle to yourself, taking a sip of your own juice when you hear Heeseung, barely audible, suddenly mutter:

“…I’d give up coffee milk.”

It’s quiet. It’s barely there.

Your jaw drops.

“I know, okay?” He rubs his temples as if the decision is actually hurting him. “It’s like choosing between two children. But at the end of the day, ramen is ramen.”

You nod along, pretending you understand the gravity of his heavy decision (you don’t). But still, you smile—because you were the one who got him to betray his beloved coffee milk.

Heeseung takes a sip of it anyway, groaning as he swirls the bottle in his hand. “I hate that you made me think about this.”

“You should be thanking me. Y’know, character growth and all that.”

“More like character damage.”

You grin, victorious, and he just rolls his eyes before pausing for a second to think, then—he nudges his ramen cup toward you.

“Here. Try some.”

You recoil immediately and look up at him with a look that tells him he’s absolutely psychotic.

“Absolutely not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why? You scared?”

“No, Heeseung, I just have these things called taste buds.”

He scoffs, shoving the bowl between you two closer. “Just one bite. C’mon, Graveyard Shift Girl, live a little. For me.”

You hold his gaze, suspicious but faltering, because—damn it—he’s looking at you like that. All smug and teasing, head tilted slightly, and it affects you.

And then he moves. 

He picks up his chopsticks, twirls them in the bowl, and catches a perfect bundle of noodles before leaning forward, holding them up between you two. He waits.

Your breath hitches. Your eyes flicker to the steam curling from the noodles, twisting in the air between your faces, fragile and fleeting.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

It’s ridiculous, really. I mean, it’s ramen. But the way the space between you suddenly feels thin, the way his grip on the chopsticks stays steady, his fingers just inches from your lips, the way his dark eyes stay locked onto yours, watching you with something unreadable flickering beneath the usual teasing glint—it feels like time slows down.

You blink rapidly, clearing your throat. It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re overthinking.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, watching. Waiting.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and slowly lean in to take the bite.

Your lips brush the chopsticks as you close your mouth around the noodles, and for a split second—one charged, unspoken, split second—neither of you move.

Heeseung is so close.

So close.

You can see the soft curve of his mouth, the way his gaze flickers over your face, the way his breath catches slightly like he just realized something.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of the close proximity and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. Panicked, you pull back quickly and settle into your seat like nothing happened.

But then you start chewing.

And that’s when you realize—

No, wait. Wait. That heat in your cheeks?

Oh.

Oh no.

Yeah. It’s definitely not because of Heeseung (well, maybe a part of it is). 

Because the second you swallow down the bundle of noodles—the embodiment of heat, pain, and suffering all slams into your mouth instantly.

You freeze.

Your brain short-circuits.

And then—

“Oh my GOD—” you choke, slamming your hands onto the counter, your body shaking as the spice courses through your veins.

Your throat ignites, your sinuses clear, and you swear you can hear colors.

Heeseung? Heeseung loses it.

His laugh bursts out of him—loud, unguarded, and completely delightful. He clutches his stomach, nearly hiccuping from how hard he’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples deep in his cheeks.

If you weren’t literally physically dying in this current moment, you’d probably be absolutely too flustered to function at the sight.

“No way—” he wheezes through his laughter,“—are you actually struggling right now?”

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, HEESEUNG?!” you glare at him through the tears forming in your eyes as you desperately flail your arms around, searching for your juice pouch. “You eat this voluntarily?!”

“Every night, baby.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

Your hands finally find your drink and you gulp it down as if it’s your lifeline, eyes still watery, throat still burning, lungs barely breathing. But somewhere in the middle of your suffering, you catch yourself staring.

At Heeseung.

At the way he’s still smiling, like he just had the best meal of his life. At the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, his dimples peeking out like his own hidden secrets, the way his nose scrunches slightly when he’s amused—

Weird.

You blink the thoughts (and your tears) away, shaking it off, and blame the spice, the delirium, and sheer trauma of what just happened.

You clear your throat, sitting back with a desperate huff.

“I hope,” you catch your breath, gesturing to his bowl, “that when you come in tomorrow, we’re all out of this horrid flavor.”

Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a knowing look.

“You’d still restock it for me, though.”

Damn it.

Your shoulders slump, and both of you know you’re defeated.

He knows you know you’re defeated. 

Heeseung just grins, then, without a word, slides his coffee milk toward you in a silent truce.

You stare at it. Then at him.

His smile grows.

And you accept it.

Begrudgingly.

It’s 1:20AM when you find yourself behind the counter, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of instant noodles and bottled drinks. The store hums with its usual white noise—lights buzzing above, soft music humming overhead, the low whirr of the coolers. 

And Heeseung? 

Heeseung is across the counter, perched on a barstool he dragged from across the store, doing absolutely nothing to help. 

For the nth time tonight, he flips a soda bottle into the air. 

And for the nth time tonight, he fails to land it upright, the bottle clattering onto the counter.

“You’re supposed to be helping me restock,” you remind him, tossing a pack of chips at him. 

“I am helping,” he argues, dodging the bag in time and letting it fall flat onto the ground. Great. 

You cross your arms, scoffing, “Oh yeah? What category does sitting there and flipping Diet Coke fall under?” 

Heeseung finally puts the bottle down on the counter and hums, tapping his fingers against the counter like he’s deep in thought. Then, he flashes you a meek smile, “Moral support?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning back to unbox another package from the pile stacked in front of you. 

Another silence falls between you and Heeseung watches as you go back to your job before he breaks it—

“How do you do this every night? Does it not get…I don’t know, tedious? Boring?” 

You freeze in your spot, caught by surprise at the question.

“Hm,” you turn to him, head tilted as you think.

Heeseung glances up at you, intrigued. The way your lips purse slightly, how your fingers fidget absentmindedly with the torn edge of a cardboard box. 

You exhale, leaning back against the counter, “Yeah, the hours suck, pay is…alright. And—” 

You hesitate. Your gaze drifts toward the floor, fixating on a dent near the register, “—and I think, at some point, I thought I felt stuck.” 

Something in Heeseung’s expression shifts. 

“I mean, I’m a college student, for god’s sake,” you continue, a small, humorless laugh escaping you. “And I spend my nights serving cigarettes to barely legal teens and cleaning up after ramen spills. It kind of felt like I was just…watching life pass me by, you know?”

Your voice quiets and it’s just the soft hum of the store again. You pick at the box without thinking, fingers grazing over the worn edges, and Heeseung watches you.

Because he gets it. 

He gets it in a way that makes his chest ache a little.

Because despite the differences in your lives—despite how he’s constantly moving while you feel stuck—you both know the feeling of watching life slip between your fingers, of wondering if you’re ever going to feel like you belong in it.

Heeseung holds the soda bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, murmuring, “Yeah, I get that.” 

You glance up at him, making eye contact, but you don’t push. 

“But then,” you say quietly, “I started seeing this place differently. Instead of somewhere I was stuck, it became more of a…break. An escape from everything. A breath of fresh air from expectations and routine.” 

And that—that makes Heeseung look up. 

Because deep down, that’s exactly what all of this has become for him too. 

He doesn’t know when it happened—if maybe it was the first night he found the store, maybe whenever you showed up, maybe all the sarcastic exchanges, or somewhere in between all of that—but these late-night visits, these stolen moments in a world that demands from him, have become something steady. Something his. 

And he wonders if maybe…maybe you’re the reason for that. 

Maybe you’ve been keeping him grounded in a life that never stops moving. 

And maybe he’s been keeping you from feeling stuck. 

Just maybe.

It’s late. Way later than usual. And Heeseung is still here. 

And you don’t know how, but you’ve both abandoned your usual spots—his self-proclaimed window seat and your stool behind the register.

Instead, you’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the register counter, backs pressed against the shelf of over-the-counter medications that you just re-organized, with a laptop and plenty of empty snack wrappers sitting between the two of you.

“See this is exactly my problem with this movie,” you point at your laptop screen, your voice slightly muffled by the gummy bears in your mouth. “One idiot makes one bad decision, and suddenly everyone’s dead! Like, be so for real.”

Heeseung scoffs, leaning back on his hands, “It’s a movie, Y/N. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”

“And I don’t have to pretend this isn’t garbage,” you shoot back as the credits roll, unimpressed. “This is objectively the worst thing I’ve seen.”

“I think I just have an acquired superior taste,” Heeseung quips, his eyes teasing. “Just like with my food choices.” 

“Right,” your voice drags out. “Superior delusion, maybe.”

Heeseung shoves your shoulder with his own, and you laugh, the sound natural, unfiltered, and totally at his expense.

As you shut your laptop and start gathering the remains of your late-night snack feast, the conversation quiets for a moment into an easy, warm silence. It’s the kind of quiet that feels good, the kind that’s been happening more lately—something you never would’ve expected that first night you ever saw him enter the store. 

Then, Heeseung exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back against the shelf, “You know, this might be the longest I’ve sat and relaxed in months.” 

You glance up at him, brows raised, “What, you don’t get to laze around on the floor surrounded by junk food with your favorite convenience store worker on a regular basis?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he huffs a laugh. “But I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And sometimes it’s like…”

He pauses and tilts his head back, his eyes following the way the light fixture above him flickers in and out, “Like I’m moving so fast I forget what it’s like to just…be.”

Something in his voice makes you pause in your actions, your hands putting down the miscellaneous wrappers between you.

“Is it hard?” you ask quietly.

He lets out a breathy chuckle from beside you, “It’s…a lot. You’re always being watched, always expected to be on. And even during breaks I’m already thinking about the next thing. The next schedule, next performance, next practice.”

You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against his knee, something you’ve started to notice over time whenever he’s lost in thought. 

“But there are moments that make it worth it,” he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. “The music, how fun it is to be on stage, the fans. The feeling of performing and knowing people are there because they love what you do. It’s unreal.”

Your own smile unconsciously appears as you listen to him reflect, taking in his words. You never stopped to really think about his life in-depth before—and it does sound like a lot. Like something people dream of but don’t realize the weight of until they’re carrying it themselves. 

You nudge his knee lightly with yours, “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to just exist sometimes, too.” 

Heeseung turns to look at you, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, reaching into the closest bag of gummy bears to you and tossing one to him. He catches it easily, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“See, this is why I keep coming back,” he says, chewing. “Gourmet snacks and free therapy.”

You roll your eyes. “Unbelievable. I take it back. Suffer.”

Heeseung laughs, popping another gummy bear into his mouth, before his fingers start tapping his knee again. Then, after a beat—

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

When you look up at him, he’s already looking at you with a new…something. A newfound sincerity, maybe. Or uncertainty. Or both.

Your eyes meet, and suddenly, he visibly hesitates—shifting almost awkwardly in his spot, as if he both rehearsed what he’s about to say and yet has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact.

“I—um,” he swallows hard. “I’m sorry? For, y’know, being kind of a jerk when we first met. I think I was pretty…” He trails off awkwardly. “Jerk-ish.” 

You don’t move for a second. Slowly, one brow arches.

Heeseung thinks he regrets everything.

Then, a smile—slow and sweet—curls at your lips.

And suddenly, Heeseung realizes he doesn’t regret a damn thing.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, nodding along dramatically. “You were a menace. Like, an insufferable, grumpy, little menace.”

Heeseung lets out a noise that lands somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Okay, I get it.”

“But,” you continue, locking eyes with him again, “I guess I should apologize too.”

Heeseung perks up, now his brow lifting, “For what? Finally admitting I was right about—”

“For judging you and your still…very questionable choices.”

“Ah, there it is.”

You giggle, nudging him with your elbow before pausing. 

“But seriously…you’re, like…” you dramatically draw out the moment as if the words physically pain you to say.

Heeseung smirks, leaning in slightly, waiting for you.

“…pretty cool, I guess.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you scoff. “You’re still a ramen-addicted jerk.”

Heeseung hums, still smiling, “Might be too late.”

Then, he tacks on, without thinking twice, “You’re pretty cool, too, I guess.”

You laugh at the hesitancy in his voice, “Okay, that sounded almost sincere.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile softens, “No, but seriously, it’s…nice. Having someone I could talk to outside of…you know, my whole chaotic life.”

The sudden shift in the air quiets you for a moment as you look at Heeseung, noticing the slight drop in his shoulders, the way his fingers continue to drum against his leg. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“I don’t…really talk to people like this,” he quietly says, as if admitting something to himself more so to you. Then, after a pause, he glances back up, eyes searching your own. “Now like how I do with you. Like…I could tell you anything and everything, really.”

Your breath catches, but you keep your expression neutral, “Oh?”

Heeseung shifts, looking down at his hands before exhaling a quiet laugh, “Sorry. Too serious?”

You find yourself quickly shaking your head. Because although, yes, most of your interactions with Heeseung are filled with jokes and teasing, the serious conversations or shared warm silences in between recently—have started to mean something more. They’ve become an outlet, a quiet escape from reality. It’s like the moment he steps through the store’s doors, the door rings, the outside world fades, and for a few hours, it’s just the two of you in this shared space.

A space that feels safe, untouched by expectations, where both of you can just be.

“No,” you say, softer this time. “Not at all.”

You hesitate for a beat before adding, “I…really like talking to you too. It’s—” you let out a small laugh, “almost unnaturally easy, actually.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond right away. He just nods, and then looks up at you from the ground and his eyes are serious—no teasing, no usual smugness, just something…real. Vulnerable.

Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast.

You should say something. Something light, or something sarcastic, or something normal.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy looking at his face.

Then, without thinking, his lips.

And he’s looking at yours.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly, you’re close. He’s close. Too close. Close enough to hear his quiet inhale. To see the way his lashes flutter. To feel the space between you two thinning into something dangerously nonexistent.

You should move. You should break the moment before it turns into something neither of you can take back.

But you don’t.

And he doesn’t.

And then—

Ding.

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open shatters the moment.

You both jolt apart like a pair of teenagers caught guilty, and your heart is practically breaking out of your ribcage as you scramble to your feet, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, your face burning as you appear from behind the counter to greet the customer that was blissfully unaware of whatever was definitely not about to happen behind the counter. 

You clear your throat as you look down at Heeseung, who’s still frozen in his spot and trying his very best not to lose his mind, “I should—um. Go back to work.”

Then, suddenly, Heeseung stands too, nodding quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink, very much not looking at you, “Right. Yeah. Work.”

Right when you turn back to the counter, the customer is there, waiting for you to ring them up. You plaster the most normal smile you can muster, scan their snack, take their cash, and hand them their change—all while pretending you don’t feel Heeseung’s presence still lingering behind you.

You don’t turn around, and he doesn’t move.

And despite the complete lack of physical contact, you still feel his warmth. The same amount of warmth as when he was only mere inches away from your own face.

The door chimes as the customer leaves.

Then, finally—Heeseung clears his throat.

Hesitantly, you turn around, bracing yourself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding your gaze before forcing out, in the most casual voice he can manage—

“So, uh—same time tomorrow?”

You blink.

Then, finally, you let out a small laugh, “You’re so weird.”

The tension in the air cracks just enough, and Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, “And yet, you’d miss me if I didn’t show up, wouldn’t you?”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, except—nothing comes out.

Because, unfortunately, you know he’s right.

And he knows he’s right.

So, naturally, instead of admitting defeat, you suddenly grab a rag from behind the counter and start aggressively scrubbing at a perfectly clean surface.

“Go home, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung just grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as steps out from behind the counter and backs away. “Night, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

When he’s finally gone, you’re left standing there, staring at where he just was before you.

And finally, when the reality of what just happened fully settles in—

You groan, dropping your head against the counter.

Because now he's in your head.

Great.

The clock above you ticks, a sound that usually fades into the background and becomes a part of the store’s white noise. But tonight? 

Tonight, it’s your biggest freaking nuisance. 

You think if you have to hear it tick one more time, you’re taking the ladder from the backroom, climbing up there, yanking that thing off the wall, and tossing it right into the dumpster. 

Why? 

Because, it’s 2:21AM. 

2:21AM, and you’re alone. Stuck in this sad, empty convenience store with nothing but your own annoying thoughts and the snacks laid out in front of you with no one to share them with. 

Same time tomorrow, my ass, you think bitterly, aggressively straightening a stack of receipts near the register that don’t even need straightening. 

Heeseung’s voice from a few days ago still rings in your head—completely, and unfortunately, uninvited.

You don’t even know why they’re stuck in there, his words looping around, constantly taunting you.

The worst part?

His words had been entirely untrue.

Because it’s been three days.

Three full days since Heeseung has walked through those automatic doors, plopped down in his usual seat, and proceeded to either a) annoy you, b) argue with you over his food-related crimes, or c) make you laugh against your will.

And you don’t know why it’s bothering you so much.

Frustrated? Yeah, you’re frustrated. But the real question is—at what, exactly?

Frustrated that he just disappeared without so much as a heads-up? No warning?

Or maybe you’re frustrated at the very fact that you’re even thinking about this at all.

It’s not like he owes you an explanation. It’s not like he belongs to this store…or to you.

So why does it feel like something’s missing every time you glance at the entrance, half-expecting to hear the ding of the doors and see him stroll in with his stupid hoodie and even stupider smirk?

You shake your head, trying your best to snap yourself out of it.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You don’t care.

You don’t care so much that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain—your traitorous, overthinking, hardworking brain—itches with a thought.

A stupid, ridiculous, subconscious thought.

And before you can fully even process what you’re doing, your fingers are already unlocking your phone, your thumbs moving on autopilot as you do something you swore you wouldn’t.

You search up his name.

It’s pathetic. It’s sad. Even you’re disappointed in yourself. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t associate Heeseung with his job, with the persona that everyone else sees. Because to you, Heeseung is just…Heeseung—the insomniac who bickers with you every night, who somehow turns every conversation into an argument he has to win, who sits cross-legged with you behind the register eating spicy noodles and giving objectively bad movie recommendations.

And to him? 

Well. You thought that to him, you were just you. Just some convenience store worker he happened to befriend. Someone outside of his world, outside of the blinding lights. Someone he didn’t have to be anyone around. 

His words echo in your mind as you think—just a person he could tell anything and everything to. 

You push the thought along with their feelings down as you continue scrolling—quick, desperate, your fingers flying over your screen, swiping through posts, comments, anything that could explain his sudden absence—

And then. 

You see it.

A tweet. 

Tagging his group, followed by a message. It’s short. Sweet. Simple. 

Yet entirely soul-crushing. 

“Can’t believe they’re leaving for tour already tomorrow! So excited to see them in a few days!!” 

Your breath catches. 

Your eyes flicker over the words again.

And again.

Leaving. For tour.

Tomorrow.

Your stomach twists violently as you scan for more confirmation, your hands gripping your phone with a newfound frustration as you tap through articles, fan accounts—anything to tell you this isn’t real. That there’s some mistake. That you didn’t just foolishly spend three days waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

But there it is. Everywhere. Right in front of you.

Confirmed dates. Cities. Posters.

Heeseung is leaving. Tomorrow.

And he didn’t say a word.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at your screen. The words all blur together, but the sinking feeling in your chest is sharp, clear, and undeniable.

And you hate it.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate that your first instinct wasn’t to be happy for him, or proud, or even remotely understanding.

Instead, you’re angry. Upset. Hurt.

And what you hate the most?

You know exactly why you feel this way.

And just as that realization settles in—just as the blur of your feelings finally sharpens into something unmistakable, something you can no longer ignore—the familiar ding of the automatic doors cuts through the quiet store and the screaming thoughts in your head.

You almost don’t look up.

Almost.

But then you do, and your stomach drops.

Because there he is.

You blink, because at first you think maybe you’ve been drowning in your thoughts for so long that you’ve started hallucinating him—manifesting his presence out of sheer frustration towards him.

But, no.

Heeseung stands there, at the entrance, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking at you like nothing’s changed.

Like he hasn’t been gone for days, like he hasn’t left you suffering with your own emotions—like he hasn’t been the only thing on your mind even when you really, really, didn’t want him to be.

“Hey,” Heeseung nods at you casually, walking over to his usual stupid aisle, grabbing his usual stupid Extra Spicy Hellfire, then reaching for his usual stupid coffee milk—all like clockwork, all like he never left.

You don’t respond.

Instead, you busy yourself—wiping the spotless corner of your counter, smoothing out a crumpled receipt, pretending you’re looking for something in the shelves beneath you.

Anything to keep yourself from looking at him.

And you might actually lose it.

Because if you have to stand here and pretend like you’re fine, that these past few days haven’t felt like an eternity for you—you might actually lose it.

Heeseung finally walks up to the counter, places his things between you, then pauses before repeating, tilting his head, “Hey?” 

He shifts slightly, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You don’t.

A beat passes. Then another.

“You mad at me or something?” he asks, his head still tilted, his voice light, hesitant.

You inhale, your fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the counter.

Then, you let out a quiet laugh—an empty, humorless scoff.

“Should I be?”

Heeseung frowns, clearly confused, “What?”

You finally look at him. And you think it was a mistake. Because the second you meet his gaze—uncertain, searching, so annoyingly familiar—you feel your throat close up.

He looks the same. Same stupid hoodie. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes that you’ve somehow come to find comfort in.

And that makes you hate this even more.

“Is this because I haven’t been showing up?” Heeseung tries again, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn, I didn’t realize you’d miss me that much. Sorry, Graveyard Shift Gi—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Your voice is quiet, but he doesn’t miss it.

And he stills.

There it is.

He shifts in his spot again, his eyes now darting down to where his fingers are tapping against the counter.

“What?” he says again, but this time, it’s different. Careful.

You swallow, forcing down the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to look at him.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

It’s soft. Barely above a whisper. But lined with something raw, something vulnerable, something hurting.

And Heeseung hears all of it. He feels all of it.

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at you, lips pressing into a thin line.

Somewhere in the background, the clock continues ticking, the lights overhead buzzing, a song from the speakers humming.

And Heeseung stays silent.

“You weren’t,” you murmur, the words caught in your throat. “Were you?”

Heeseung exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, “I—” 

He stops. Starts again. 

“It’s not—it wasn’t—”

You cross your arms tightly, more so to ground yourself more than anything.

He lets out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head.

“Look,” he gestures vaguely, between you, at the store, at the shelves, at the space you’ve unknowingly carved out for him here. “This—this is the only thing that’s felt normal for me in a long time.”

Your stomach twists.

“Everything else—my whole life, it’s all…chaos. But this?” He swallows, his eyes finally looking up to meet your gaze, his voice quieter now. “You?”

His eyes flash with something new, something softer, something that lingers in the way he looks at you. The same way he has over late-night snack feasts, whispered movie nights, conversations that blended into the early mornings. 

“You’re the closest thing to normal I’ve had.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because you get it. You know him, so you understand.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he was going to leave without telling you.

You inhale slowly, your heavy gaze holding his.

“So what?” your voice is still quiet, but now edged with a new sharpness. “You thought if you didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t have to be real?”

Heeseung presses his lips together. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have to lose this yet.”

Your breath catches.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Heeseung didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to ruin this.

Whatever this is.

Whatever the two of you had built over the weeks between instant noodles and snacks, between arguments over food choices, between all the unspoken moments that made you feel like maybe, maybe, this was something more.

You let out a wavering breath, shaking your head, “That’s not fair, Heeseung.”

“I know,” his voice is rough now, like he’s tired of saying it. Like he’s already told himself a million times and accepted it. Like he wants you to just accept it and move on.

But you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know how!” His voice rises in frustration, an exasperated sigh slipping out. “Because you—this—whatever this is, it started feeling real. Too real. And I just didn’t want to fuck it up, alright?”

The words knock the air out of your lungs.

Because suddenly, everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, every feeling you’ve been trying to convince yourself wasn’t there, is suddenly painfully undeniable.

And worse than realizing how real this is?

Knowing that Heeseung knows it, feels it, too. 

But heavier than that realization is the anger.

Not just at the situation.

Now, at Heeseung.

“So you thought it’d be better to just disappear instead?” Your voice shakes, biting down on the thick emotion rising in your throat. “You didn’t even think to tell me.”

Heeseung steps closer, and for the first time tonight, you see it—his own frustration bubbling beneath his surface, the barely restrained emotion.

“What does it matter, Y/N?” his sharp voice cuts through the heavy air lingering between you. “What difference would it—would you—have made? It’s not like this was ever going to change anything.”

Your heart stops.

At that, you falter, and Heeseung sees it.

He sees the way your eyes move away from his. He sees the way your posture suddenly deflates, as if his words physically hurt you.

Because they do.

Because you know what he’s saying.

He’s leaving. And you’re staying.

And no matter what, no matter the amount of realness, no matter what either of you feel—that was always going to be the reality.

“Right,” you finally say, your voice dangerously close to giving out. “Because it’s not like any of this really meant anything, right? At least not enough for you to acknowledge.”

Now your words hurt.

Heeseung winces. His jaw tightens. His fists clench.

Then finally—

“…I don’t know,” he mutters.

The final crack.

You let in a sharp inhale, nodding once, your lips pressed into a straight line. “Got it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, like he wants to take the words back, like he wants to fix whatever just broke between you.

Instead, he exhales, stepping back from the counter, “I should go.”

This time, you don’t stop him.

You don’t say anything at all.

Heeseung hesitates for a half second, like maybe—just maybe—he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you don’t. 

Not when you feel so utterly lost in everything you’re feeling that you can’t even begin to put into words. 

So he nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, turning away.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting you.

Cold air rushes in.

And then—he’s gone.

And you?

You’re left at the counter, staring at his abandoned cup of ramen, untouched coffee milk, and the ghost of something that never got the chance to be.

Heeseung doesn’t think. 

He wasn’t thinking four days ago, when the space between you two had grown impossibly small—when he was this close to you, when the air felt thick with something unspoken, yet undeniable, something that made his pulse race and his breath hitch. 

He wasn’t thinking when he let fear creep in, when the weight of him realizing his own feelings sent him running, keeping him from stepping foot into the store at all. For three days. 

He wasn’t thinking when he looked you in the eye last night and told you this didn’t matter. That none of it ever did. 

He wasn’t thinking when he walked out of the store, leaving you to think that you didn’t matter to him. That you never did. 

And he definitely isn’t thinking now, when he’s supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour, but instead—his feet pound against the pavement, tearing through the empty, quiet streets like a man possessed, like maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the regret clawing in his chest. 

The cold air stings against his face, streetlights flicker overhead, and the city hums all around him—but none of it matters. None of it even registers. 

Because all Heeseung knows, all he cares about, is getting to you.

Because Heeseung?

He can go months on tour without his Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.

He can go months on tour without his coffee milk.

He can go months on tour without those, even if it means braving his insomnia.

But what he can’t go without?

Heeseung can’t—he won’t—go months on tour knowing you think you meant nothing to him. That you didn’t bring him relief after the longest days, laughter when he forgot how to find it, comfort in a world that never slowed down for him.

That you weren’t the one thing that felt real in a life that so often didn’t.

And if there’s even the smallest chance to fix this—to make sure you know—then nothing else matters.

The neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, and Heeseung’s heart lurches in his chest as he approaches, his staggered breathing visible in the cold air in front of him, his hands clammy.

He stumbles through the sliding doors, the familiar ding barely registering in his mind as his eyes dart around—only for his stomach to drop.

The counter is empty. The soft sound of your absentminded humming, the teasing lilt of your voice, the annoyed glare in your eyes—it’s all missing.

And all wrong. Too quiet, too empty, too…not you.

Instead, some guy he’s never seen before glances up from behind the register, staring at the way Heeseung just lingers frozen near the entrance.

“Uh,” Heeseung swallows thickly, his voice strained from his sprint. “The girl who usually works nights. Is she here?”

“Oh, Y/N?” the worker raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, she called off tonight.”

Heeseung stills.

You’re not here.

You’re not here.

And it’s his fault.

Because last night, you were here—waiting, hoping, and he walked out on you.

“Oh,” is all Heeseung can manage before he feels the words getting caught in his throat.

His jaw clenches, his stomach twists. The weight of regret settles deep, heavy and unrelenting.

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” he mutters, nodding absently, then turns towards the door.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting him.

Cold air rushes in.

And just as Heeseung steps out—

He sees you.

You.

Right there, walking towards the store, hands shoved into the pockets of your coat, face buried into your scarf.

You stop.

He stops.

For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you breathe.

The neon glow of the store’s sign reflects off your face, casting a shadow over your widened eyes. A car honks in the distance. A gust of wind blows past.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Heeseung says without thinking, almost breathless.

A small laugh escapes your lips, airy and uncertain, “Yeah, well…neither are you.”

You’re right.

He should be on his way to the airport. Bags packed, schedule set, moving on.

But instead? Instead, he’s here, standing in front of the only person who has ever made him hesitate.

Heeseung takes one step forward, “I was looking for you.”

You tilt your head, your lips pressed together like you’re weighing something in your mind.

Then you take a small step forward.

“And now you’ve found me.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out all at once and rushed, but utterly honest. Honest and heavy, the way it’s been aching in his chest—and he can’t hold it in anymore.

You blink, unmoving.

“I’m so sorry,” Heeseung says again, stepping closer. His voice is steady, gentle, but nervous, scared you won’t believe him. “For everything. For not telling you. For leaving like that. For being a completely fucking idiot about—”

He stops. The look in his eyes is vulnerable, genuine. Longing.

“About this. Us.”

You don’t say anything right away, just watching him carefully.

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh as he realizes he’s about to lay everything out bare.

“I think I was scared,” he admits. “Of what it all meant. Of what you meant to me. I kept telling myself none of it was real, that it didn’t matter. But then I walked out yesterday and, I realized—”

He swallows hard, looking at you and the way your eyes soften with something unreadable.

“It does. You do. So, so much, Y/N.”

Another pause.

Then, you let out a soft exhale, shaking your head, as if something’s finally clicking into place, “I’m sorry too.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows burrow in confusion.

“For not—,” you sigh, your hands now fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. “For not saying something sooner. Because the truth is, I’ve been denying it too. I didn’t even realize how much I—how much you meant to me until I saw you last night and…”

You trail off, your cheeks warming. Then, with a deep inhale, you take another step closer, meeting his gaze from an arm’s length away.

“I was just so angry and upset, but I think…I realized it’s only because I like you, Heeseung. So much.”

Heeseung swears his heart stops. It feels like his whole world has just shifted, and all his thoughts are tangled up in the way you’re looking up at him now.

“And…I should’ve been more understanding,” you add softly. “I shouldn’t have held it against you like you owed me something. I was just hurt, and I didn’t know how to handle it, honestly.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away, not when his thoughts are running wild and his heart is beating like it’s about to fully grow legs and escape.

Then, he exhales a breath of relief.

And lets out a quiet laugh to himself.

You blink at him.

“We’re both idiots,” he says finally, shaking his head softly. 

A small, knowing smile dances on your lips, your eyes locking onto his, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

The tension eases. Just a little.

Heeseung takes a small step closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of you, despite the cold air surrounding you both. 

“So now what?”

You tilt your head as you look up at him, eyes searching his, “Aren’t you supposed to be catching a flight soon?”

Heeseung’s breath hitches.

Because he knows he should say yes.

That’s what’s been planned all along. That’s the reality.

But, for the first time—

He hesitates.

“Maybe."

Your eyes narrow slightly, a playful glare sparking in them, "Maybe?"

Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe."

The warmth in his chest spreads when he sees the way you bite back a smile, the way your weight shifts just the tiniest bit closer—like you're testing the space between you.

Then, you reach into the tote bag slung around your shoulder and pull something out. 

“Here.”

You press a small bottle of coffee milk into his hands.

Heeseung stares at it in his hands.

Then at you.

And you’re looking at him with something gentle—something that makes his chest tighten in the best way possible, something that makes the world feel just a tiny bit warmer.

“Just in case you need a reminder,” you say, your voice light and grounding. “Of what’s normal.”

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and suddenly—everything makes sense. 

The missing piece clicks into place as the static in his mind all fades away, leaving only this—only you. 

You, standing here in front of him, looking at him with that small, steady smile, and Heeseung knows. 

He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

A laugh escapes him before he even realizes it, soft and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, where warmth curls all around it, wrapping around his own heart like a quiet, undeniable truth. His heart races and his fingers tighten around the bottle in his hands—slightly trembling, not from nerves, but from the realization of something so much bigger. Something so much realer. 

And then, without even thinking, he steps forward like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and closes the small space between you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you in, slow but certain, with a gentleness that catches you by surprise. 

You freeze, breath catching, but only for a second. Because then—like a reflex, you melt into him, your own arms tightening around him.

Holding onto him just as much as he’s holding onto you.

Neither of you say anything.

There’s a quiet calm between you two—no need for words, just the rhythm of your heart beating against his own. Steady, calming, like it’s syncing with his, like they’ve always known each other’s pace.

Like they’ve been moving in tandem all along, even when neither of you realized it. 

And in a way, maybe that’s just how it’s always been with you two—balancing on the fine line between pushing and pulling, between sharp words and lingering glances, between pretending you didn’t care, yet feeling everything all at once. 

So easy to cross, so easy to blur, so easy to mistake for something else. 

Maybe you spent all this time thinking you were standing on opposite sides, only to realize you were always moving toward the same place.

And now, as one of his arms moves across your back, the other threading gently through your hair, holding the back of your head against his chest like he never wants to let you go, his heartbeat still steady against yours, you know for certain—

You were never meant to stay on one side. 

You were always meant to cross it. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?

However—

There are three things—three sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.

The first?

Insomnia.

Not by choice, of course.

The second?

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.

Yes, it’s a weird combo. And no, he still doesn’t care.

And the third?

You.

And honestly?

You’re the only one he really needs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it to the end, i'll ship u some extra spicy hellfire ramen & coffee milk rn ! <3 luv u mwahmwahmwah !

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list pt.1 (luv u all):

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

(bolded didn't let me tag, sorry :( )