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Raised to believe that as the princess of your kingdom, the luxury of your upbringing was justification for your distinct unhappiness, you find yourself fantasizing about the one person who's ever seen you as more than a woman: the castle librarian.
Content: Royal au, implied emotional abuse, witty banter, perhaps over-the-top attempt at a period writing style, mutual pining, friends to lovers, unwanted arranged marriage, assassination attempt, knives, panic attack, happy ending :) lowkey lowkey inspired by Barbie in The Princess and the Pauper
Word Count: 10.1k
âShe is here to meet a proper suitor,â the governess told Sungjin coldly. âYou will not be getting in the way.â
Sungjin sucked in a breath with a grimace as he straightened his jacket in the mirror. âAnd what makes you think Iâm here for anything other than the feast?â He turned to face the governess properly. âWhile I am an excellent dancer, I have no interest in stealing away the princessâs chance at meeting an advantageous match.â
The governess seethed at his nonchalant reply. It was by the princessâs request that the librarian had been invited to a royal event in the first place, and she was going to get to the bottom of it. âIt seems you needed no reminder,â she noted sharply. âAt least you already know your place.â
âItâs been made clear to me many times before tonight,â Sungjin replied, side-eyeing her as he left the dressing room. âDonât say useless things.â
â
You sighed wistfully as you looked out from the balcony at the boy on the lawn. âLucy, do you think he would be bothered if I asked him what he was reading?â you asked your lady in waiting.
âAlmost certainly,â she replied bluntly, sharing in your afternoon fantasy. âBut perhaps not if you asked him how he was liking it.â
âOh, no, I think that might bother him more.â You giggled. âI say this as if I have any intention of courting.â
âThis is news to me,â a voice interrupted you from the shade. You turned to see Sungjin leaning against the balcony doors, a few familiar books under his arm. âYou speak of a new crush every week and yet you have no intention of courting?â
âThe crush is the only fun part, Mr. Park,â you said with a feigned serious tone. âIf Iâm not to marry for love, then why get in too deep to let go in an instant?â
You searched for any pity in his expression, but he either hid it well or truly only felt amusement at your statement. âIs that why Iâm the only man you talk to?â he quipped in return.
Lucy tried to hide her explosive laugh as a cough.
You looked Sungjin up and down. âA man? Would I talk to you if I saw you that way?â
The cough worsened, and Lucy had to excuse herself, rushing past Sungjin to get the privacy she needed to regain her composure.
Sungjinâs blithe amusement was unaffected, or at least undamaged. He stepped forward and brandished his books at you. âIâve taken the liberty of removing these from your chamber and replacing them with some books your governess recommended.â
Your jaw dropped in indignation. âBut was it not by your recommendation that I had those books in the first place?â
âTimes change quickly, your highness,â he said, waving the books at you once more before tucking them back under his arm. âIf these caught your interest as far as your bookmarks in them, Iâm sure youâll have a splendid time with your new books.â
âThatâs not a fair criterion,â you argued. âIf Iâd had any time for myself, you would have had those books back a week ago.â
âExcuses are easy to come by,â he chided, stepping back toward the balcony doors. âI prefer to judge by action.â
â
He took your hand gently and led you to the dance floor with his hand on the small of your back. You then gave each other a courteous bow and curtsy before he took your hand once more and rested his hand on your waist. You tried not to trouble his shoulder with the weight of your hand.
âIs it alright if I share a burden with you, Mr. Park?â you asked as cheerfully as you could muster, studying the details on his jacket.
He didnât answer right away, and you could feel his eyes on you, trying to get you to meet them. âIs it something Iâm already aware of?â
âMost likely,â you answered, surely failing to hide behind your usual grin. âI canât imagine someone as sharp-minded as yourself could have let this slip by.â
He hesitated once more before asking a second question. âWill sharing this really make it lighter?â
Your face truly began to falter now, and you couldnât keep your lips from frowning. âProbably not, but I do suppose it depends on your response.â
He brought his hand up from your waist to tilt your chin gently upward, a final plea for you to meet his eyes. âIâm afraid I might make it worse, indeed.â
As tears threatened to spill over, you hid your face on his shoulder. He held you a little closer. âI was afraid you might say that.â You drew in a deep breath and stood yourself up straight, determining yourself to look into his eyes once more. âBut I think I still want to try saying this once.â
âPrincessâŚâ
âI love you, Sungjin.â You looked down, unable to hold his gaze. âBut of all the luxuries and choices granted to me in life, love is not one of them.â
âI love you, too, (Y/N).â
You had never thought that honest words could cut like lies. âFor the sake of your heart, I hope it passes soon.â
â
âReally, Mr. Park, you must stop snooping through my things.â
âYou left this out specifically for me to read,â he argued, âand I will not tolerate a word otherwise.â
You humphed self-righteously. âWell, since youâve read it anywayâŚâ
âIâve already marked the edits I suggest you make.â He handed the papers back to you. âYou are quite careless with your grammar.â
âJust the grammar?â You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. âIs that all you have to comment on?â
He reached forward and tapped on a paperclip at the back of the stack of papers. âMy commentary on the content couldnât fit in the marginsâwhich are messy, by the wayâbut it couldnât fit in the margins with the grammar suggestions, so I had to take down my notes on new paper.â
âThreeââ You had pulled his notes to the front of the stack as he had spoken, and you were appalled to find just how many pages he had used. âThree pages? I only wrote four, and you wrote three pages of criticism?â
âThree sheets,â he corrected. âFront and back. Six pages.â
âSixâ!â You took a deep breath and set your hands on your hips, trying to stuff down your frustration. âI wrote four pages of philosophy, and you wrote six pages of criticism, not to mention filled the margins of the original four with grammar corrections?â
He didnât smile, but you caught the twinkle in his eyes. âYou think so lowly of me, your highness.â
âI canât imagine you would write any praise.â
âAnd so lowly of yourself, as well,â he chided. âOnly the first page is criticism. I actually found your piece intriguing enough to write you a response.â
You felt like you had swallowed a mouthful of air. Sungjin, the great and esteemed librarian of the royal palace, had found your thoughts interesting enough to write five pages in response to the original four.
You cleared your throat. âYou flatter me.â
âAh, well,â he said, clearing his throat as well. âPerhaps youâve finally earned some praise.â
â
Luckily, your downtrodden mood went unnoticed by the rest of the guests. Well, perhaps unluckily. That meant that all of the potential suitors you had met were all self-absorbed snobs with no real interest in you as a person. It wasnât like you really expected more out of a political marriage, but you hoped for someone that at least cared enough to notice that you were hurting.
Sungjin sat with some other guests that you had invited from the palace staff, enjoying the food as promised, and was soon joined briefly by your governess. She looked uneasy.
âIâd like to apologize,â she offered, taking the seat next to him in order to rest her feet for a moment. âI believe I was unnecessarily harsh.â
âPerhaps I did need the reminder,â Sungjin disagreed, watching you dance with another noble that paid no attention to you even as your hands were intertwined. He could see your expression even from this distanceâmiserable and barely hiding it. âI believe you and I are the only two people in the room that know of her intellectual caliber, and the only two that care.â
The governess chewed on that, deciding the librarianâs words to be true and taking them as the tragedy that they were. âOf all the luxuries and choices granted to her in life, as she likes to sayâŚâ Sungjin nodded in acknowledgement. âI think the books used to be her distraction, and then you came with the books. However, she will be a fine queen someday, and your willingness to challenge her is certainly a factor in that.â
âIf her husband will ever allow her a word in edgewise,â Sungjin scoffed. âSheâs better suited for leadership than any of the men here for her hand.â
The governess raised her glass toward Sungjin. âIâll toast to that.â
He clinked his water glass with her champagne, although he didnât understand what exactly they were toasting to. He knew he could never stay by your side, but he couldnât stand to see your growth suffocated in order to satisfy some other manâs picture of an ideal wife. The choice you were giving up wasnât just love, but to live your life as yourself. He wondered who had convinced you that a life of royal luxury was worth trading your identity.
â
âNow, who is burning the midnight oil in my library?â Sungjinâs voice came out deeper and raspier than he had thought it would. Then again, it was quite time for him to be asleep, and he did hope he sounded intimidating.
âWhatâs this of midnight oil?â your voice came from the other side of the shelves. âThe sun has only just set, has it not?â
Sungjin, in his pajamas and night cap, rounded the corner of the last shelf before the table you sat at. The sight nearly caused you to choke on your own laughter, which was certainly not becoming of a princess.Â
He raised his eyebrow at you. âIâm quite certain if you stay up much longer, youâll be greeted by the sun rising once again.â
You stopped your giggling immediately, placing your bookmark and slamming your book shut. âYou must be joking.â
âI would never joke about something as serious as interrupting my bedtime.â
He was absolutely serious; you could read it in his posture. As ridiculous as he looked, he was not pleased. In fact, the longer you looked, the more disturbing the shadows of the candlelight on his face were. He looked rather like a solemn ghost reminding you to sleep, lest he haunt youâ
You lost your composure again, imagining the librarian as a nagging specter. He didnât so much as raise an eyebrow. âMy apologies, you just look likeââ you had to pause to fight off your laughterâ âyou look so silly.â
âI think you simply need to leave my library and get yourself to bed,â he said. âYour academic sobriety already leaves much to be desired when youâre well-rested. Donât make it worse.â
Perhaps it was the hour of the night finally setting in, and you were exhausted after all, but you could have sworn there was fondness in his eyes when he bid you goodnight and shut the library doors behind you. However, you thought perhaps you werenât mistaken about it when he opened the doors once again to shuffle after you in his slippers, berating himself for nearly allowing a lady to walk alone across the castle in the dead of night.
â
The marriage date had been set. Although not one of the suitors had managed to impress you enough to give him a second glance, a few had appealed to the king, and he had chosen one for you. You didnât know why you were so upset. You had known all your life that this was the role you had been born into, and you had spent your life preparing accordingly. What was the difference now that it was actually upon you?
All of your duties now were wedding-related. Not a second was free for you to spend loitering around the library, which you tried to convince yourself was a good thing. If you werenât around him, you would stop thinking about him eventually. Your unnecessary crush wasnât even your most impeding problem; the books that he took such good care of were no longer yours to peruse. The life of rigorous study that you had loved was no longer yours, either.
You supposed you had taken advantage of this for far too long; what place had you ever had among the books, anyway? Dress fittings, etiquette lessons, those were things you should have been spending your time with in the first place. Now you were playing catch-up because you had been allowed to choose between something you wanted and something you needed.
Upon returning to your chamber for the evening after a day of decoration approval, you noticed a book sitting on your vanityânot your desk, where the last of your books remained. Someone had placed it there for you, and you nearly tore yourself in half resisting the urge to snatch it up and read it immediately.
There was only one person it could be from; only one person was bold enough to trespass like this. However, you were trying to prepare yourself for the life you would soon be living, and indulging in this couldnât possibly make it easier for you. Still, you wandered closer to your desk, wary of the book as if it would burst into flames.
There was an envelope on top of the book, addressed to you in handwriting so lovely and calling you so rudely by your given name. His handwriting had been the bane of your existence so many times, yet you had never seen your name in it. He had added no flourish to itâin fact, there were a few little drops of ink from his quill staining the envelopeâbut you had never liked the sight of your own name more. Or hated it.
Before you knew it, the envelope was in your hands, and you delicately turned it over. He hadnât even bothered to seal it properly. He must have known that any obstacle to his letter would have turned you away from it. If only it had been sealed, it might have brought you to your senses.
You turned it over again, admiring his handwriting once more, but turning it so quickly wafted the scent of the paper to your nose. You smiled without realizing it; you wouldnât have thought of him as the type to use a lilac scent. Why was it only now that you were learning the sweetest things about him? It was like the Fates didnât want you to let him go.
Rather than the books of philosophy and politics he would usually recommend you, this book was a work of fiction. By the look of it, he must have bought a new copy for you. The letter that came with it must have contained some explanation as to why he had given it to you, but you cared far too much to let yourself read it. You werenât certain you would ever read the book, either.
You sat on your bed and stopped trying to fight the tears you had holding back since the ball. It was of no use to continue explaining to yourself that you had no right to feel this way. It wouldnât stop you from feeling this way, so the least you could do, now that you were in only your own company, was admit your feelings to yourself. Instead of repressing them, you needed to let them go.
â
The air of the castle was far too stuffy in the summer, and on a night like tonight, opening the window simply wasnât enough. You needed to go outside and experience the night air for yourself.
It was no easy task to convince the guards that you didnât need them or your lady in waiting around for a half-hour stroll around the grounds, but eventually they let you out. You were almost certain that they would have someone tailing you, but as long as you couldnât see or hear them, you would pay them no mind. The illusion of a moment of solitude would have to do.
As you admired the crescent moon and the stars splashed across the night sky, your illusion came to an end. Whether or not someone had sent him after you, knowing that his company was one you would never rebuke, you didnât know, but Sungjin had come around the castle from the opposite direction. You intended just to pass by him at first with a cordial nod, but the way his eyebrows raised in something that seemed to you to be surprise or disdain managed to offend you enough to talk to him.
âAm I not allowed to explore my own home?â you asked sharply.
This had been exactly the reaction he had wanted to get out of you. He stopped and turned to face you slowly, his expression now perfectly polite. âDid I say anything contrary?â Before you could fire back a retort, he continued, âWell, perhaps there is something to be said about the hour of your excursion, but who am I to criticize you?â
Every witty thing you could have come back with vanished from your mind. âYes, quite so,â you said smartly. âYou are out at the very same hour.â
âAn excellent observation,â he acknowledged without a hint of the patronizing tone he implied. âEvery so often, I find an evening walk to be quite refreshing, but it seems the evening escaped me tonight.â
He was going to make you say it. Whether he had been sent or not to escort you tonight didnât matter; if he was to join you, he would have to have your permission, and he wasnât going to ask.
Well, having company wasnât your intention, and you werenât going to ask. Perhaps this one time, you would refute his company.
âIt is a bit suffocating, isnât it?â he asked you instead, before you could tell him to be on his way. He glanced toward the castle, and you had a feeling he was talking about something other than the heat.
âSometimes I wish the castle were farther from the equator, in a drier part of the country,â you admitted facetiously, determined not to give him the conversation he wanted. âBut I suppose a milder winter is a fair trade for the misery of summer.â
The corners of his lips rose in preparation to play your game. âYou can only escape outside of the castle walls for so long.â
âAs soon as I go back inside or the sun rises, Iâll be right back where I started,â you agreed, now also not quite talking about the weather. âYou canât exactly hide from the sun.â
âIt is quite relentless,â he said with a nod. âEven now, it watches you by way of the moon.â
Was he the moon? Was that his implication tonight? A reflection of the sunâof your dutiesâbut kinder in its presence. It didnât bring the same light, but it didnât bring the oppressive heat of the day with it, either.
âI do wish it would stay a while longer,â you mumbled, only for him to hear if he cared to answer.
You pretended to ignore him as he took his attention away from the night sky and gave it to you instead. You pretended not to see out of the corner of your eye the way his eyes sparkled with stars to rival the night sky. Most of all, you pretended not to see the way he looked at you. It would just be trouble if you tried to make something of it.
âMay I escort you?â he asked, offering you his arm tenderly. âItâs still a ways to the back gate, if you would like to escape the heat a little longer.â
Perhaps you had misread his intentions tonight. You had thought he was going to make you put down your pride, but now he was simply inviting you to at much less detriment to yourself.
âAlright,â you accepted softly, taking his arm in the same manner. âI suppose some company wouldnât be too burdensome.â
â
Your husband-to-be wasnât necessarily unkind. He was perfectly polite, in fact, and while he clearly didnât have any real interest in you, he did try to get to know you in the few days before the ceremony. However, this mostly consisted of asking what you knew about his interests rather than asking what yours were. In his eyes, he likely had a long way to go with you until you would become who he imagined you to be.
Perhaps if youâd had a common interest, something might have happened, but it seemed that literacy was a skill he didnât think much of. He took his privilege for granted, and assumed someone else around him would always know what he needed to know in any situation. It didnât seem he expected you to be in that list of people.
It was a horrible thought, but you did consider that his nation would likely be better off in your hands than his, if he died accidentallyâŚor not. Not that you would ever do something to bring his death to pass, but it wasnât a thought that particularly troubled you.
His eyes stared right through yours as you wondered these terrible things. He looked at you, certainly, but he couldnât have seen less of you if he were blind. You felt like a paper doll, being dressed up and given away to someone who would likely forget you existed within a week.
As this prince went on and on about his annual hunt with his younger brothers, your mind wandered back to someone who always saw more of you than you wished he would. You could never hide anything from him, no matter how well you thought you had put up a front. If he were here right now instead of your politically advantageous match, you had so many things you wanted to ask him. He might grow frustrated with your questions, but not because he thought you couldnât understand his answers. He felt you should already know the answers, or you should be asking questions meant to challenge him just as much.
This prince was hoping you would shrink to meet his expectations, while your librarian wanted you to grow to meet his. However, according to your birthright, you had already overgrown for the role you were meant to fit. Cutting back was going to hurt in one way or another.
You noticed the prince had gone quiet, watching you now in the glow of the sunset as you sat on a bench in the gardens surrounding your castle. Had he asked you a question? Why was his expression like that, all soft and pleased with himselfâ
âWhat are you thinking about?â he asked you.
You werenât sure how to answer the question; you were more surprised that he had finally asked you a question that didnât have to do with him. âI was justââ
âLet me tell you what Iâm thinking about,â he interrupted you. You werenât even sure he had heard you start to answer, much less expected you to answer. âWe shall be an excellent match. Our children should take after you in looks, and surely after me in personality.â
You refused to bring anything like him into the world, but that wasnât something you should or could say out loud.
âYou are beautiful,â he told you as if he was sure no one had ever told you before. âMy brothers shall be jealous Iâve found myself a wife like you.â
If he thought he was being romantic, he was wrong, and it was unnecessary for him to do such, but he was so sure of himself, you were unable to move before he decided to kiss you.
It made you feel sick to your stomach. There was no way he thought a romance was really going to build that quickly between the two of you. Was he really arrogant enough to think he had won your hand in marriage because he had won your heart at the ball? You had thought you were on the same page, at least, that you were here for the benefit of your nations.
You excused yourself after that and all but ran back to the privacy of your chamber. The familiarity of your own quarters were something you would lose as you traveled back to his kingdom to begin the rest of your life, so you figured you might as well take advantage of them for the last time.
He must have been brought up to believe he deserved everything the world had to offer as some sort of royal birthright. The way your late mother had raised you, you thought it was common knowledge that in exchange for a life of royal luxury, you had to live your life ready to sacrifice anything else for the welfare of your kingdom. The more you interacted with the royalty and upper class of other countries, however, you realized that your paradigm was unique, even strange.
You were snatched out of your thoughts once again, even as you were steps away from safety, by a hand grasping your arm. On pure instinct, you tore your arm away as you spun to see who it was that had stopped you. Frozen with his arm still outstretched as he realized how improper his actions had just been, Sungjin waited for your next response.
You had half a mind to turn around and keep walking, but the other half of your mind sought comfort from the one person in this castle that you knew cared. No matter how much you wanted to let it win, you couldnât. You were already indulging yourself by running away to hide.
âItâs a bad time,â you refused him simply without giving him the chance to explain himself. âPerhaps another time.â You spun around once more to continue on your way.
âI think this is the only time,â he contended before you even took a step. âYou are miserable. If you ever do anything for your own sake, let it be this.â
You had kept yourself in check for so long. Every single awful feeling you had been keeping down suddenly manifested, burning hot. âWhat do you know?â you spat vindictively. You turned once more, advancing on the librarian, who stood his ground. âWhat do you know about duty? What do you know about living a life on the backs of people who do real work every day, while you sit around and just exist?â
He didnât say anything. He was angry, and you knew it by the way his eyes darkened. Normally bright and full of stars, you had snuffed them out.
âThis is the only worth I have in life,â you said. âI bring them promises of goods to trade and safety from war and strife with this, so they can keep living their lives. Iâve never had to do anything for myselfâthis is the least thing I can do repay those that have sacrificed so I can live this way. My happiness means nothing in comparison to the lives of those Iâm supposed to protect.â
âHow dare you talk about the princess that way,â he said, his voice quiet and dangerous. âIf it were any other than yourself, I would have them turned in to the guard for slander.â
âI canât slander myself, Mr. Park.â
âBut you can lie to yourself. You can let yourself believe all of these terrible things about yourself because someone did you the discredit of raising you to believe that you donât deserve to be lovedâvalued, even,â he seethed. âPerhaps the welfare of the people should come before your own, but how can you serve them properly if your service to them doesnât bring you joy?â
âAnd what if it does bring me joy?â you asked defiantly.
He shook his head. âYou may lie to yourself, your highness, but you cannot fool me.â
â
He looked beautiful in the glow of the sunset. You wished you could capture him like this somehow, keep his image in a book that you could look at whenever you wanted. However, your sketches could never do him justice, even if you could capture the colors perfectly.
You were in love with him. You knew it, as much as you wished it werenât true. He had probably known before you did. It was useless, though. You were to marry a prince, and there was to be a ball soon to find a potential match.
Forgiving yourself for this would be no easy task. You should have seen it coming long ago, but you were blinded by your own foolishness, believing that you could really just admire him as a scholar. Once you knew you liked him, you should have stopped then, as well, but it was too easy to convince yourself to indulge just this once. And then you got too deep to pull yourself out.
Even now, watching him out on the lower balcony from above, you were indulging yourself. Once again, you rationalized using the same logic: you might as well enjoy the view while you still could. Soon, you would leave all of this behind. The castle, the view of the gardens, the familiar sunset of your land, and your librarian as well. If you had managed to find all of these things you loved in one scene, you might as well commit them to memory while you still had them.
Like it was habit for him, he turned his gaze upward briefly toward your balcony, but he made a double-take as he realized you were standing there. You both froze, having been caught in your acts of assumed solitude.
âPrincess?â he stammered, not quite believing his eyes. âHow longâŚ?â
âYou should come,â you blurted, somehow seeming to retain a collected composure even though you were embarrassed and unsure of what was coming out of your mouth. âTo the ball, I mean. You have my invitation.â
The distance between you was too far to really make out his expression, but you could only assume it was confused by the length of time it took him to answer.Â
âIâm sure I have no place there.â
âOf course you do,â you insisted. This was indulging yourself once more, but if this was the one time you would ever make a stupid choice, it might as well be now. âYou have to dance with me once, shouldnât you?â
His expression was too hard to make out, but you could see his hands playing with the railing of his balcony as he tried to figure out what you were playing at. âTruly, what place would I have doing that?â
âPerhaps from some viewpoints, none,â you admitted, âbut I believe our camaraderie has earned you at least enough social standing for one dance.â
Even from this distance, you could see his dark eyebrows raise at the implication that his worth came from his relationship with you. You knew that he knew you were jokingâyou had made him recommend you several books on similar subjectsâbut you waited to see if he would take the bait and keep arguing with you.
âIf youâre willing to take responsibility for whatever complaints come up surrounding my presence, then I suppose I should take your offer,â he said, inflection heavy in his voice. âDonât regret extending this invitation.â
You smiled to yourself. You would come to regret it, you were sure, if you didnât already. âI would never,â you lied jovially.
â
Sungjin had made himself quite scarce from your presence. Not just yours, apparently, but you had heard rumors that he had hardly left the library at all. That was fine by you; you didnât want to see him anyway. You would feel obligated to apologize if you saw him again, even though you still believed you had said nothing wrong. You knew you had hurt him with your harsh words, and in that was your fault.
The wedding wasâŚwell, it was. That was as far as you could describe it. You were aware of your state of being alive through the whole process of the day, but barely anything more. That was the only way you could get through the day without being overcome by your emotions. You shut everything out. Every thought, every sensation, every person who talked to you, none of it had access to how you truly felt about what would come next. If you had to, you would never come back to yourself for as long as you lived.
Perhaps somewhat ironically, it was a threat to your life that brought you back to the present. Barely twelve hours had you been married, and your husband was already holding a knife to your back.
âItâs a shame. I really did think you were a lovely girl,â he said with a slightly inconvenienced sigh, âbut in order for any of this to work, you have to die.â
If you and your family lived through whatever declaration of war this was, you would have to remind yourself to slap your father across the face for his ineptitude in picking alliances.
âIâm sure taking me as hostage would incite much more chaos,â you suggested flatly, barely daring to move for the strength with which the prince held the dagger to your back. He didnât seem to know much about womenâs fashion, as he held it to a rib of your corset, but you had to let him believe he had your life in his hands.
âI would have liked that as well, but Iâve been advised that if we want to take possession of your kingdom, we need to make this as swift and cruel as possible,â he explained once again as if this were a minor inconvenience to him. âAnd itâs not as if you would agree to our occupation. Your dedication to your people, in particular, is admirable, but itâs exactly why you cannot be allowed to live.â
And it was exactly why you had to live. You thanked your past self one last time for the adventurous youth you had insisted upon and prepared to seize his knife for your own. Your dark fantasies of killing your husband may well have become your reality.
âI was surprised to find out that rumors about you were true,â he went on. âYour pretty face is unfortunately a facade for that strange mind of yours. Thanks to that peculiar librarian of yours, no doubt.â
You stiffened at his mention of Sungjin.
âOh, yes, I know all about your little affair. One of the wisest and most knowledgeable men, not just in your country, but likely the whole continent. Heâll likely be useful in the coming months, whether willingly or notâŚâ
That was the end of your rational thought. You spun around and made a grab for the knife, your heart on fire at the thought of anyone, much less this man laying a hand on the only man who had ever seen you as an equal. You hadnât considered that he had meant to provoke you, which was now made clear by the way he pulled back and readied a real strike. With the smirk on his face, the monologue suddenly made sense.
You attempted to move out of his way, but your haste had caused you to forget the placement of the furniture in the room, and you nearly fell backwards over a chair. His knife grazed you across your chest, almost aligning with the length of your collarbone. It wasnât deep, but it was already bleeding. You werenât sure why it didnât hurt quite like you expected it to, but you were sure it would soon. If you were going to live, that had to be the only strike you allowed him.
So you fought dirty. Giving up your earlier plan to take the knife yourself, you kicked him hard between the legs and took off as fast as you could. Surely his shouts would attract unwanted attention, but you had to leave and find Sungjin as quickly as possible, before anyone else did. You ditched your shoes at the door and thanked the prince one last time for his arrogance; not a single guard was stationed outside.
It wasnât long, however, before you found yourself being chased by the foreign guard. You shouldnât have been fast enough to outrun them, but your desperationânot for yourselfâkept you out of their reach. Just as you were sure you were done for, you rounded a corner to see members of your own guard, still unaware of the rats in the castle.
You called for their help, and seeing the blood dripping down your front, they sprang into action. Once you were safe behind their line, you pulled one aside.
âThis whole wedding was a setup,â you relayed, trembling. âYou must make sure the king and the others are safeâtheyâre planning on having us all killed.â
Then you took off again in the direction of the library, not stopping as the guard called after you. It wasnât far from here, but you couldnât waste time if they had already found him.
The library corner was still dark, untouched by violence as of yet, you hoped. You werenât as delicate as you wished you were, trying the handle, and the sound of the locking mechanism echoed down the whole hallway. The door was open, nonetheless, and you prayed that it was just because he had forgotten to lock it, and not because someone had already forced it open. You locked it behind you, whether it meant you were trapped in here with the enemy or not.
His quarters were separated from the library by a door in the back, and you had to fight yourself to keep an even pace. There were no signs of soldiers, and the closer you got, the surer you were that you were the first one here.
His door was shut, and all the lights were off. Perhaps he had gone to visit family instead of attending the wedding. If he had, you hoped he would know to never come back.
You knocked on his door, and within a few seconds, you heard rustling from the inside. You knocked again, and you heard someone questioning you from inside.
âSungjin,â you called for him quietly, but still loud enough that he could hear you through the door, âthe prince and his troops are staging a coupâtheyâreââ
He yanked his door open, standing before you now in his silly pajamas and nightcap. The thought of this man, whose only calluses on his hands were from an excess of using them to write, being used and hurt for his dedication to knowledgeâŚit made you sick. You could never let that happen, by any means possible.
âPrincess?â He could hardly take this sight of you in. He had never known you to be frightened of anything, and he had never seen you look so small.
âYou have to leave,â you begged him. âThe wedding was a setup to seize the kingdom. Theyâre looking for you now, as we speak.â
âMe? Theyâre after me and not you? Their princessâour princess.â
âThey donât think anything of me, but they know how much you knowâthat makes you worth something! Sungjin, they wonât just kill you,â you warned him frantically. âPlease, hide, and get yourself to safety!â
âBreathe with me, Princess, please,â he pleaded with you, holding your arms steady. âYouâre bleeding. Letâs address that first.â
You shook your head. âItâs not life-threatening. Iâll be fine, but please tell me thereâs a way out of here thatâs not the main entranceââ
An echo through the library stopped your voice, froze you in place. They knew you were here. You led them straight to him. The one person you wanted to protect, and you had given him away. And those guards who had protected you so loyallyâyou had given them their deaths.
You couldnât breathe. Your lungs were full of air and they refused to empty in exchange for new air, even as you gasped for it. Sungjin knew there wasnât much time, but he had to try and hide in whatever time he had. There was a nook hidden behind a bookcase that he suspected had been built for times like this. However, the bookcase was heavy, and he wasnât sure he had the strength to move it out and back in time.
Another echo shook the walls; they were going to break the doors down. He had to try.
You werenât in any state to help him as you clutched your hand to your chest, trying to regain control of your breathing. He took your arm and led you swiftly to the bookcase, even knowing that he couldnât do this alone.
âWe can hide back here,â he said, leaning down and making sure he had your eyes on his. âI need you to help me pull it back.â
âSungjin, I donâtâIâI canâtââ
With another echo, he heard the wood of the doors beginning to crack from the repeated force.
â(Y/N),â he said softly, âwe have to try.â
Your eyes still shining with tears and your body still shaking as you tried to control it, you nodded resolutely. Anything to get him out of harmâs way.
On his count, you pulled the shelf, and true to his promise, there was a small alcove with just enough space to hide the two of you. So long as you could pull the shelf back in time, and the enemy soldiers didnât start knocking shelves over, you would be safe.
A final crash finally blew the doors off their hinges, just in time for you to have secured the shelf back in its place. Even though the enemy guardâs shouting back and forth was more than enough noise to drown out any sound you made, you still stifled your panicked sobs.
Sungjin couldnât take any more of this. The space was small enough that you could both sit on the floor, but only if he had you in his arms. He wasted no time in pulling you into his embrace and allowing you to sink to the floor. He listened intently to the soldiersâ dialogue as they searched his library, but it was admittedly hard to focus when he was finally holding you like this for the first time.
âIs anyone sure they saw the princess come this way?â
How had it taken an attempt on your life for him to finally gather the courage to hold you like this? Certainly, you were a princess and he was a humble scholar with no place by your side, but that seemed now a pitiful excuse. If your lives really were to end tonight, his greatest regret would be withholding his feelings for you.
âCheck the librarianâs quartersâsee if there are any exits besides the doors we just came through.â
He hadnât noticed his hand finding its way to your hair, holding your head to his chest to comfort you. Although your breathing was still troubled, you seemed to have regained quite a bit of control. He was prepared to hold you all night if he had to.
âWhat if we just lit the whole place ablaze?â
Sungjinâs heart dropped. If you were trapped back here, a fire would certainly kill you both.
âNo! Weâre under strict orders to preserve this collectionâthis is one of the most extensive libraries any kingdom has seen, and the king wishes to have it for his own. Our task is simply to find the librarian who tends to it and bring him to the prince.â
âAnd what of the princess?â
âKill her when we find her.â
After a while, the footsteps stopped, and Sungjin had to assume that the soldiers had left. However, he wasnât going to risk your safety to find out if he was right. At some point, they would have to leave, but he would much rather wait until you were able to make a plan with him. He trusted you much more than he trusted himself in that aspect.
You were still bleeding, he realized, and in the cramped space, he had you sit apart for a bit as he reached to tear his nightshirt for a makeshift bandage. However, you stopped him, gesturing to the hem of your dress instead. He shook his head, going once again for his nightshirt, but you placed your hand over his.Â
âThe dress is already ruined,â you whispered, gesturing to the slash and the bloodstains. âIt might as well be of some use.â
He understood your request; it wasnât simply about preserving his nightshirt, which was still in good condition, over your already torn and stained dress. It was also about further tarnishing what this dress was supposed to represent. He wanted to erase all of that too, so he obligingly found a seam and split it as much as he could to make a decent bandage and still leave you decent.
Once he had pressed the fabric to your wound, you decidedly curled up against his chest once more, all but forcing him to wrap his arms around you again. He couldnât help but smile despite the dire circumstances. For a moment, you werenât a princess and he wasnât a librarian, hiding from foreign combatants. You were just a girl, and he was just the boy you loved, stealing a moment of privacy for the first time.
âDid you ever read my letter?â he asked you softly, careful not to allow his voice to pass through the wood shelf.
You shook your head. âNor the book that came with it.â
âThat probably would have been for the better, had the prince been honest in his intentions to marry you.â
âBut he wasnât.â
He sighed. âNo, he wasnât, and Iâm not sure whether to curse him for trying to take your life or thank him forâŚwellâŚâ
âThe two may not be mutually exclusive,â you admitted, âespecially if we live to tell the tale.â
He thought for a moment on that. What would happen if you escaped from this, and the prince and his soldiers were defeated and brought to justice? What would happen if you escaped, but the prince succeeded in seizing the kingdom? He already knew what would happen if you failed to escape, and didnât find the possibility worth lingering on.
âWill you take your position back if all ends well?â he asked. âI fear if the king does die tonight, youâll either end up with a price on your head or a country to run.â
You were quiet as you thought as well. Everything you had known about your future had changed within a few minutes, and you certainly hadnât had the time to consider any of the consequences that tonight would bring.
âThe power would never fall to me,â you finally answered. âEver since my father gave up on having a son, my cousin has been preparing to inherit the throne. Whether the king lives or dies tonight, and if our guard succeeds in stopping the attack, I suspect my role will remain the same. I will be expected to marry a man of noble lineage to benefit our country.â
Sungjinâs chest grew tight at the thought of you marrying another manâagain. He couldnât stand to let you slip through his fingers again, but what choice did he truly have in the matter?
âHowever, Iâm not sure that I could go through with yet another wedding to someone who sees me as nothing more than a chess piece,â you went on. âIâve shown myself where my heart truly lies when Iâm forced to choose between the good of the kingdom and my own desires, and I can never fool myself again.â
You sat up a bit, ignoring the pain racing across your chest.Â
âI would rather my life end by your side than keep living without you,â you confessed to him solemnly.
There was hardly light enough to see in the small nook behind the bookshelf, but it was enough to reflect in his eyes like stars, as always. It was a tragic confession, he knew, for he knew of no way for you to live by his side. And he loved you anyway.
âMay I kiss you?â he asked, his voice even smaller than before.
And so came to pass your first, and perhaps last moment of shared intimacy. It was just a kiss, but it was all you could have asked for. He was so gentle, as if he were afraid you would break or disappear.Â
The fatigue of the night finally set in, and you ended up falling asleep together in that tiny space behind the bookshelf.
â
You were awoken by frantic rapping on the side of the bookcase. Very few people knew this alcove existed, so either someone had sold you out, or it was a member of the staff, hoping to find their missing friends.
âPlease, Princess, Mr. Park, at least one of you must be back here,â a womanâs voice worried from the outside. You sat up, recognizing her as your lady in waiting. âThis is the last place I can think of.â
âLucy?â you called to her. As you opened your eyes, you could see sunlight filtering in.
âOh, your highness, thank goodness!â she sighed in relief. âAnd is Mr. Park with you?â
You began to respond, but Sungjin signaled to you to wait. âAsk her if sheâs alone,â he told you almost inaudibly. You nodded, understanding his implication.
âLucy,â you repeated, leaning as closely as you could to the corner of the bookshelf and the wall. âAre you alone? No one else is with you?â
âNo, Princess, Iâm by myself,â she confirmed, lowering her voice to match yours. âAnd while the captain of the guard knows Iâm looking for you, he doesnât know where I am exactly. Weâve managed to chase the enemy soldiers out of the castle, but theyâre still on the grounds. I want to get you out while we still can.â
âAndâŚâ you began, an odd feeling of nervousness in your stomach. âWhat of the king?â
She didnât answer for a moment, and that was an answer by itself. âIâm sorry.â
You learned that once your guards had captured the prince, who was still languishing in the room you were supposed to share, it had been easy to command his soldiers to stand down under a threat on his life. However, by then, it had been too late for your father. Luckily, your cousin was safe outside the castle, but it looked like the princeâs soldiers were preparing to make another attack instead of accepting their defeat.
Lucy relayed her plan of escape to you: there was a secret passage that led into town, outside the castle grounds where the enemy was waiting to stop any escape attempts. She was hoping Mr. Park would accompany you to safety, if he could be found.
âAnd thereâs another thing, your highness, if I may be so bold,â she said. âIâm not so sure you would want to hear thisâif you find it shameful of me to suggest this, you may pretend as if I never said it.â
âWhat is it, Lucy?â
âWell, I haveâŚI knowâŚâ She sighed. âPardon me, itâs just so hard to say it the way I mean it.â
You exchanged a curious glance with Sungjin. You hadnât come out of your hiding place yet, but you would soon now that you were certain that your lady in waiting was still trustworthy.
âWorry not about offending me,â you exhorted her. âWhat do you have to say?â
âI send my earnings to my sister and her family,â she explained. âShe has two daughters, and youâre their hero. I always wished I could follow the path of education, but my family never had the money. I think it a shame to leave all of the things youâve learned for a political marriage where your intellect is of no value. If you wished to leave your life as a princessââ
You gasped. âLucy!â
âIâm sorry, your highness, I know how you wish to serve your kingdom in return for the life youâve been able to live thus farâI just wonder if it would make you happier to serve your people by sharing your privilege with them directly rather than continuing to live as a figurehead.â
Could you really do that? Sheâa person who had served you during the best years of her life, had been denied opportunities in her life in order to serve youâwas advocating for your happiness? You had always been grateful for her company, but you had always been hesitant to call her a friend because you had believed that she must resent you in some wayâbut who had told you that?
The same people who had convinced you that you didnât deserve to be happy in the first place. That had firstly come from your mother, the Queen, who had impressed upon you the worthlessness of your feelings in the face of the needs of the kingdom. Perhaps this had come from a place of trying to raise you to be a benevolent monarch yourself, but you were now starting to see these ideas for what they really were.
And who had perpetuated these notions after she had passed? No one other than yourself. There was only one person now who wanted to stop you from leaving this life you so hated behind: you.
âWell said,â Sungjin commended Lucy in the absence of your answer.
âOh, Mr. Park!â Lucy exclaimed in relief. âThis makes things so much easier. Letâs get you both out from behind that shelf so that you may depart at once.â
Lucy had come prepared. She had brought you a dress to change into, one of her extra uniforms, and since she had heard rumors of your injury, she had brought ointment and bandages as well. While Sungjin collected things that would be necessary for your journey and things he dared not to leave in the castle for intruders to find, she applied the ointment and wrapped your wound as best as she could, what with the awkward placement, and then she helped you into the new dress.
The last things she had brought with her you were sure had come at great risk to her life, and if you wouldnât have already cried at the sight of them, this added knowledge certainly would have pushed you over the edge as well. She had brought the book that Sungjin had given you and the letter that came with it.
Quickly, she led you through the castle to the entrance of the passage. She gave you directions to where her sisterâs family lived with a promise that she would join you soon.Â
Sungjin insisted on carrying almost everything in his pack, despite both of you being used to living as scholars. He pointed out that you also had the slice below your collarbone to worry about, but since it had been so shallow, you werenât worried too much about it. You walked through the passage together, knowing that whatever life met you on the other side, you would face together.
â
Ten years had passed since the enemy siege on the castle. Luckily, it hadnât led to war, but the princeâs kingdom had faced significant consequences from other countries allied with yours. The new king in this land was a kind ruler; he was well educated in the ways of service, and in the name of his deceased cousin, the former princess, he had begun several new efforts to provide opportunities for his people to become educated.
In a small forested town in this kingdom, near the mountains, a couple ran a strange building. On the ground floor was a library run by the husband, and up the stairs was a room used as a schoolhouse, headed by the wife. They happily took part in the kingâs educational initiatives, turning this little nowhere town into a sort of hub for learning and studying.
You never did find out if your cousin, the new king, knew that you were still alive, but you supposed it was of little consequence. The princess had died in that attack, in some way. That life felt like a tragic book you had read in your youth, something you could tell your children as a bedtime story when they were being ornery (and oh, they were, as seven and five year olds tend to be).
You found yourself enchanted with life now, as doing the most mundane things you remembered at times to be things you had longed for. Your house was across the road from the library-schoolhouse building, and your view out the front window showed you your favorite sight: your husband sitting at one of the tables in his library with those two ornery children, captivating their whole attention with a book about the stars.
He glanced up from the book, in a way that looked habitual, and even from across the street, you could see his surprise in seeing you looking back. His focus was now broken, and the children noticed just as quickly.
You decided to abandon your book-mending project for now to spend the rest of your afternoon off in the place where you had fallen in love with that man to whom you were married: in his library.
--
Dearest princess,
(Y/N)
I write this not with light conscience. I realize wholly the weight of the words which I dare to impart to you. I also fully realize the weight of the words you spoke to me at the ball, just as much as my response to them.
I hope that you may find some humor in this, however: I have written no less than five drafts of this letter, and I still fear this one to be lacking.
I suppose I must end my stalling; beating around the bush has never been my strong suit until just now. I care deeply about you, and as such, I cannot bear to see you so distraught and say nothing. While I do know very well that you serve your kingdom and your people with pride, I also believe that you deserve to serve them in a more corporeal manner than you believe to be in store for you. You and your intellect are of far more value than you believe, and your presence in the academic world has been far more impressive than I have likely let on.
It is bold and improper for me to say this, but I believe you should petition the king to reconsider your prospects for marriage at this time. I say this not simply because of my feelings, although I must admit I cannot isolate these two subjects entirely. I say this because I believe you could do more for your country if you remain here and become an active part of the affairs of the kingdom than if you were to leave. If you wish to take on this challenge, I shall aid you in whichever manner you request.
I save these sentiments for last, and I regret not having told you sooner: I find every part of you to be absolutely captivating, from your wit and intellect to your graceful beauty. I understand my feelings to be above my station, but I do find myself emboldened to know that you return these feelings. If you might ever consider me in reality, know that I would do anything in my power to find a way to stay by your side.
Yours,
Sungjin
P.S. The book is a gift. I found myself reading for pleasure and I wished I could share this with you. Perhaps you might read it one day if you end up somewhere I can longer pester you.
Now this one took just over a year to write. I think it just started as me having fun and flexing my vocabulary and understanding of English grammar but then it turned into something a little more serious. I also now wonder if I could write closer to a Shakespearean style if I tried. Hmm. Not now though
summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt
or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong
genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!
warnings: cursing???? i think that's it???
wc: 5.2k
a/n: tysm for reading!!!! school is kicking my butt this week lol so there's a solid chance there's typos, i'm sorry :(
taglist: open! send an ask or comment!
Jihoon has always trusted his gut. Itâs never led him wrong; the schools he chose, the law firms he declined, the clients he advised, theyâve all been good choices. He knows better than to ignore the little feeling deep down in his stomach that doesnât sit right, warning him that something is wrong.Â
Unfortunately, this morning he convinces himself itâs just because he hasnât had his coffee yet.Â
He multitasks, typing a furious reply to Mark from accounting (who has apparently lost the ability to read, since the information he is asking for is in the first e-mail that Jihoon sent) while also heading toward the pretty wall of expensive coffee makers that played a significant role in his decision to accept the job offer here. Thatâs why he doesnât notice you until you practically bounce off his chest.Â
âMy bad, Iââ You freeze when you meet his eyes.Â
Iâm sorry, Jihoon tries to say, except the words donât come out, and now heâs stuck looking at you with the same wide-eyed stare you are giving him. Itâs not often that Jihoon finds himself speechless, but thereâs so much he needs to say, to explain. Too much. He hasnât had the chance to even think about telling you the absolutely idiotic things he said on Saturday night, even after he spent all day Sunday staring at his ceiling and imagining how to explain. The only proof it wasnât all a nightmare is the texts blowing up his phone this morning from Seungcheol and Joshua who managed to find your Instagram (apparently they approved, though it was tricky to explain why he wasnât following you).Â
âWe need to talk,â Jihoon finally says.Â
âI really am sorry,â you respond. You lean back against the counter and Jihoon catches a glance of a cup of coffee behind you, a mug decorated in bright letters that spell out your name (Fact #5: you like colors?).Â
âNot about that,â Jihoon says. âWell, I guess about that, but not really, itâs complicated, andââÂ
âMorning,â a familiar deep voice says. Jihoon turns around to find Wonwoo behind him. His eyebrows are raised well over his round glasses, forming shapely arches. He slings his arm over Jihoonâs shoulder, glancing between Jihoon and you.Â
A sudden thought crosses Jihoonâs mind. Even though Wonwoo was shipped off on a last minute âemergencyâ work trip over the weekend, there is no way that news as inconceivable as Jihoon finally losing his lifelong title of âbitchlessâ wasnât the first thing Wonwoo saw the second he turned his phone off airplane mode. Meaning that the side eye he is giving him now is because heâs about to call Jihoon out on the worst lie heâs ever told and turn him into the biggest laughing stock the world has ever seen.Â
He really should have listened to his gut.Â
âSo,â Wonwoo says, âHow long has this been going on?â His grip on Jihoonâs shoulder tightens.Â
You frown. âWhat are you talking about?âÂ
âYou and him,â Wonwoo says, gesturing between you and Jihoon.Â
Jihoon elbows Wonwoo, pushing the taller man off. âNot here,â he mutters.Â
Before he can say anything else, you gasp. âItâs not what you think!âÂ
Jihoon grabs your hand before you can say anything else, pulling you past a bewildered Wonwoo. He ignores the stares of the paralegals and lawyers in the halls as he pulls you past the peering eyes, into the nearest open door, which, unfortunately, is the janitorâs closet. There goes any chance at subtlety.Â
âJihoon?â You ask as he fumbles along the wall trying to find the light switch. Heâs still holding your hand, which he only realizes when you lightly tug it out of his grasp.Â
He finally finds the switch, flipping it on to find that it connects to a solitary lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that flickers and is definitely a safety hazard. Youâre standing directly under the light. Because the light is tinted yellow, Jihoon gets the faint impression that youâre glowing.Â
You glance between Jihoon and the door behind him, which he realizes he is accidentally blocking. He steps to the side, not wanting you to think that heâs trapping you in here, though he doesnât have a contingency plan if you run away now. Not that he has any actual plan right now; none of his Sunday-morning-imaginary-conversations took place in a room that smells like bleach and has lighting that hasnât been touched since the â80s.Â
âI swear, I have no idea how Wonwoo found out,â you say quickly. âNo one knows other than my friends, and I told them weâd both get fired if anyone at work found out, so I really donât know how he found out, but I swear, Iâll tell him it was just a rumor and it isnât true at all. Iâm really sorry, I know you said you wanted nothing to do with me, so, whatever I can do, Iâll do it, just please donât report me to HR.âÂ
Jihoon felt bad before, but now if guilt could build a time machine, heâd go all the way back to elementary school and beg his mother to take him with her when she left. Maybe then you wouldnât be looking at him with actual tears threatening to fall.Â
It wouldnât be the first time heâs made someone cry, but somehow itâs not nearly as satisfying when heâs the one at fault. Â
âSo the thing is,â Jihoon says. âI think it might have been me.â Thankfully your frown doesnât send the tears tumbling down, but your confusion means that he must, unfortunately, continue to explain. âI sort of told a few of my friends that I was dating someone from work.â He canât bring himself to say it all, not with his own words echoing in his ears berating you for doing something so foolish. âItâs a very long story, but they believe that I am dating you, and I let them believe it.âÂ
âYou let them believeâŚâ you repeat softly, as though you still arenât understanding. Jihoon canât blame you; he hardly believes it himself.Â
âWell, believe isnât really the right word, because they didnât see any evidence.â Jihoon had also spent a lot of time on Sunday trying to explain why he didnât have any photos of you, let alone with you. âSo I may have told them that you are coming to my friendâs thing on Saturday. As my date.âÂ
You stare at him. If you keep looking at him with a frown that deep youâre going to get wrinkles, but he figures now is not the time to mention that. Thereâs nothing he can do now but wait, (most of) the truth now out in the open. He holds his breath as you open your mouth, then close it, then open it again.Â
âAre you asking me to fake date you?â You finally ask.Â
âYes?â Jihoon says.Â
Fact #6: You have a ridiculous laugh.
He discovers this as you burst into laughter, smile finally breaking the frown as you gasp for breath, clutching your sides. It sounds like something between a machine gun and a dying deer, not that heâs heard either of those sounds in real life before.Â
âAre you okay?â He asks, because it seriously doesnât look like you can breathe, and heâs starting to worry that heâs actually broken you.Â
âYou told them youâre fake dating me?â You manage between gasps.Â
Jihoon sighs. âYes. Look, I know an apology is overdueââ
âWay overdue.âÂ
âWay overdue,â Jihoon says because youâre mad enough at him already and he can survive appeasing you at least a little. âSo I do apologize. I shouldnât have yelled at you and threatened HR, and I should have talked to you before I did anything as dumb as telling my friends that we are dating.âÂ
âObviously,â you say.
âAre you okay?â Jihoon asks now that youâve mostly stopped laughing, wiping a few tears from your eyes.Â
âI donât really know how to answer that,â you say.Â
Jihoon nods. âI donât blame you for being mad.âÂ
âIâm not mad,â you say quickly. âShocked and stunned and a lot of other words, but mad isnât one of them. Mostly, itâs funny.âÂ
âFunny.âÂ
âFunny!âÂ
Jihoon frowns as you burst into giggles again, though you stifle them quickly at his glare.Â
âSeriously, I mean, who goes off on their coworker and then not even a day later does the same exact thing,â you say. âIâve always known you were a little⌠But thatâs beside the point, because you are, in fact, asking me to fake date you?âÂ
âWait, a little what?â Jihoon asks.Â
You shake your head, leaning against a metal pole, then immediately straightening when you almost knock over a shelf of toilet paper. âI donât think Iâm obligated to answer that.â He opens his mouth but you raise your eyebrows. âIf you ask again Iâm going to answer something that you wonât like.âÂ
âIs it the truth?âÂ
You shrug. âDo you want me to come to the thing on Saturday and pretend to be ridiculously in love with you or not?âÂ
âYou donât have to be ridiculous,â Jihoon mumbles. He takes a deep breath, trying to convince himself that this is still a good idea somehow (eventually he settles for the conclusion that itâs much too far to turn back now). âYes, I would like you to please be my date on Saturday.âÂ
âCan you say that again so I can record it?â You ask a little too innocently. âI donât think Iâve ever heard you say please.âÂ
âYouâve barely heard me say five words,â Jihoon says. âThis is the longest conversation weâve ever had.âÂ
âWith the exception of literally three days ago when you yelled at me. And the presentation you gave in eighth grade on the importance of fish in the ecosystem of the creek by the school and you were so excited because you brought your fish except it died on the way to school and you were so upset you locked yourself in the bathroom and they had to call your dad to pick you up.â You look a little too smug.Â
âIf you tell anyone about that, Iâm telling them about the time you wrote an entire essay on symbolism in the Harry Potter series over the summer, and then it wasnât even accepted because they said extra credit was unethical.âÂ
âYou remember that?â You frown at him. âLook, I was a different person back then. J.K. Rowling was a different person back then.âÂ
âPretty sure a TERF is always a TERF,â Jihoon says. Itâs easy to fall into banter with you. He finds himself wondering why heâs never spoken to you like this before, until he remembers Fundamental Fact #3: you are an idiot in love.Â
More than anything, he wants to leave this closet. Run away and lock himself in his room and dive into his work (and tell Mark that heâs an idiot who canât read) and forget all of this. But you still havenât said yes.Â
âI will do whatever you want,â he says, quickly adding, âwithin reason,â because your eyes light up a little too brightly. âYou can tell your friends that weâre fake dating. We can actually fake date. I can write a contract and everything, just, please, come with me?âÂ
Jihoon has always thought that your kindness made you weaker, but heâs grateful for it now because you smile at him and say, âYes.âÂ
He hopes his sigh of relief isnât too obvious. He thinks you might say something else (âYou have to pretend to be my date to my friends in return,â or âI was just kidding, youâre insane and I wonât do it,â or âDonât fall in love with meâ) but before you can open your mouth, thereâs a knock at the door.Â
âHey,â Wonwoo says, voice muffled. âI hate to interrupt, but yn, we have a meeting in like two minutes.âÂ
You glance at the time on your phone and curse, pushing past Jihoon and practically bursting out of the closet. He loses sight of you sprinting toward your office as the door swings shut. Jihoon seriously considers staying here for the rest of the day (possibly the rest of his life), but the door creaks open again to reveal Wonwoo, pinstripe suit and all. He folds his arms and leans against the door.Â
âWe need to talk.âÂ
Jihoon has never been scared of any of his friends, but fear is the only word he can use to describe how he feels now. The final beats to Jihoonâs life sounds a lot like Wonwooâs footsteps as they echo while he follows the tall man to his own office. This is it. The jig is up before he even shows you to his friends. Well, it was an idiotic plan in the first place and at least he didnât embarrass you alongside everyone else.Â
Wonwoo has the decency to wait for the door to shut behind him.Â
âI canât believe you,â Wonwoo says, shaking his head. âI leave for one weekend, and you tell everyone that youâre dating yn?âÂ
âI know, IââÂ
âI mean, seriously, weâve been friends for how long now?â Wonwoo pauses to count on his fingers. âEight years? Nine? We work together! I know yn better than any of them, and I had to hear from Mingyu that you two are dating?âÂ
Jihoon frowns. Did Wonwoo actually believe him?Â
âHonestly, Iâm offended,â Wonwoo says. âSeriously, how am I not the first person you think of? Iâve been saying for years that you and yn would be perfect together.âÂ
âI didnât mean to tell them,â Jihoon says. âThey were just being annoying about it, so it slipped out.âÂ
Wonwoo shakes his head. âI donât know what to believe anymore. Right under my nose and I didnât see it.âÂ
âWell, you are like a point away from being legally blind,â Jihoon says.Â
Wonwoo glares at him. âYou owe me details.âÂ
âDonât you have a meeting?â Jihoon says.Â
Wonwooâs phone rings. He answers in a hushed tone, shooting Jihoon a look that clearly says this isnât over. Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief as Wonwoo exits, resting his head on his desk. What just happened?Â
A small part of him had hoped that Wonwoo was going to call him out and this entire mess would be over. But he believed him? Jihoon, who had only ever scoffed at you, despite Wonwoo constantly talking about how well you would work together. Well, heâs clearly having the last laugh now.Â
Jihoon takes a deep breath and sits up. He still has a job to do. Though his life is clearly falling apart, he should at least make sure Mark from accounting doesnât mess up his paycheck (again). And he has a contract to write.Â
.
.
Objectively, Jihoon has to admit you look good. It has nothing to do with opinion; itâs a fact (fact #8: you look good in formalwear, though he makes a mental note for an addendum that says thatâs the whole point of formalwear). Jihoon spends a normal amount of time looking at you (counting to five seconds before looking away), then ushers you into the backseat of the limo because for some reason you arenât moving.Â
âDo I get to know why weâre in a limo or why I had to buy new clothes?â You ask, taking care to make sure none of the flowy garment got stuck in the door.Â
âI told you Iâd cover that,â Jihoon says.Â
âNo, it was kind of bad that I didnât have anything this nice, and now I have something to wear to the end of the year gala,â you say. âWay to dodge the question though.âÂ
Jihoon grimaces. Itâs difficult to judge how people react to finding out about his friends (given that he has âlittle-to-noâ experience introducing anyone to them), and he isnât entirely certain that you wonât jump out of the car when he tells you the truth. But apparently you canât sit in silence for long.Â
âOkay, well, if you wonât tell me, then Iâm going to guess,â you say. âAre we going to a wedding?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
âA funeral?âÂ
âWhy would I wear a tux to a funeral?âÂ
âHey, I donât judge,â you say with a shrug. âIt looks very good on you, by the way.â Jihoon glances at you but youâre twisting your face into a strange frown as you think, so you donât notice the way his ears tinge pink at the comment. âProm?âÂ
âWeâre grown adults.âÂ
âProm needs chaperones,â you say. âBesides, you never went to prom.âÂ
âYeah, well, I didnât catch my date making out with someone else either, so, it wasnât that bad of a night for me.âÂ
âOuch,â you say. âThat was low.âÂ
Jihoon remembers that you are technically doing him a favor today (if saving his life counts as a favor), so he says, âWell, thereâs no way you could know I was in my pajamas watching anime all day, so, it wasnât fair. Sorry.â Maybe around you heâll get used to apologizing. He canât decide if thatâs a good thing or not.Â
Luckily, you accept his peace offering, flashing a smile that is quickly becoming familiar. Your face twists into that strange frown again, and Jihoon determines Fact #9: you are unwaveringly stubborn.Â
âOh!â You gasp. âAre you secretly rich?âÂ
Jihoon snorts. âWhat makes you think that?âÂ
âWell, you picked me up in a limo wearing a tux, after telling me to dress in fancy, expensive clothes,â you say. âPlus you are super secretive about your personal life, and, I donât know, you give off rich guy vibes. Unless Iâm totally wrong?âÂ
âIâm not rich,â Jihoon says. âI mean, I guess I have a decent amount of money saved since I mostly just work and go to the gym and the only thing I really buy is groceries.â Jihoon realizes just how boring he sounds. âI mean, I do go out. Just not often, and I buy⌠things, anyways, Iâm not rich.âÂ
âSure,â you say. You turn to look out the window, but Jihoon doesnât miss the laugh poorly disguised as a cough.Â
Luckily (because Jihoon is absolutely positive you would have continued interrogating him), the limo stops and you donât have to guess anymore.Â
âYouâre joking,â you say, whipping around in your seat to stare at him.Â
Jihoon canât say that he doesnât enjoy seeing you speechless. You look back and forth between him and the chaos on the street.Â
âYou said you werenât secretly rich!â You say. âHow did you get tickets for a literal red carpet event?â Your face is centimeters away from pressing against the glass, breath quickly making it too foggy to see. âThis is the Eternals sequel!âÂ
âYou like Marvel?âÂ
âNo, actually I think the franchise has a lot of issues.âÂ
Jihoon gasps, but youâre already climbing out of the limo, turning back to face him with a smile. Itâs so bright Jihoon forgets why he was mad.Â
âCome on,â you say. You hold out your hand, and after a moment, Jihoon takes it. He doesnât let go when he gets out of the car, tightening his fingers around yours, anchoring you to his side.Â
Itâs chaotic, but not nearly as chaotic as he knows it will be soon. Half the press havenât even arrived yet, and the theater is mostly surrounded by the scatter of crew members and invited guests that arenât celebrities. Jihoon spots Mingyu first, his tall head standing out in the crowd.Â
âYou ready?â Jihoon asks, turning to look at you. Youâre still staring at everything, unable to hide your grin. Maybe he should have warned you, but itâs kind of fun to see you like this. Bright.Â
Mingyu literally shouts when he sees Jihoon. He watches as Mingyuâs eyes practically lock on to you, and he starts pushing his way towards you, Wonwoo and Seungcheol in tow.Â
âThe tall, overly excited one is Mingyu,â Jihoon whispers. âYou know Wonwoo, andââÂ
âSeungcheol, right?â You glance at Jihoon.Â
He frowns. âHow did you know that?âÂ
âWe did go to the same college, you know.â Right. Because this wasnât complicated enough. Jihoon starts to think that all of this is a mistake, but itâs hardly the first time today, and as Mingyu approaches, all he can do is tighten his hand around yours and commit.Â
âJihoon!â Mingyu says as soon as heâs close. His voice carries, more than a few people casting a glance at him. He takes another step, but his foot gets caught on something (knowing Mingyu, itâs nothing), and heâs sent tumbling to the ground. Neither Seungcheol nor Wonwoo attempt to catch him, letting the tall man collapse on the ground.Â
âOh my god, are you okay?â You ask over Seungcheolâs giggling. Wonwoo helps Mingyu up, but heâs laughing as well, and even Jihoonâs nerves arenât enough to stop him from breaking a smile.Â
âIâm used to it,â Mingyu says, walking much slower. His hair took the worst of the fall, now a disheveled mess. Jihoon wonders how long itâll take for him to notice.Â
âMingyu, Seungcheol, this is yn,â Jihoon says. âMy real, living, breathing, human date.âÂ
âNice to finally meet you,â Mingyu says, shaking your free hand. âWeâve heard so much about you.âÂ
âReally?âÂ
âNo, this is Jihoon we're talking about, we were lucky to get your name.âÂ
âThat sounds more like the man I know,â you say, turning to flash a smile at him before facing Mingyu again. Mingyu glances at your other hand, fingers still intertwined with his, and Jihoon thinks he might actually believe it.Â
âWeâve met before,â Seungcheol says. âThough there was a lot of alcohol, and I donât really remember it all that well.âÂ
âGeorgiaâs Bar, right?â You say. It takes all of Jihoonâs self control not to react. Surely he would have remembered seeing you at the only bar his friends could drag him to during college?Â
âProbably,â Seungcheol says. âI was getting my MBA, and there were a lot of bars. Very few that we could get Jihoon to go to, though.â He raises his eyebrow. âThatâs why we're all a little surprised that someone actually managed to get him out of his apartment and away from his work.âÂ
Jihoon glances between you and Seungcheol as you think about the answer to what is obviously a test. âI donât think I really got him away from his work.â You turn to Jihoon with what can only be described as a warm, loving smile. Youâre really good at this. âBut Iâm pretty much married to my job too, so it works.âÂ
Seungcheol nods but Jihoon can tell he doesnât believe fully, at least not yet. âWe should go inside before everyone else gets here and this turns into a mess.â He turns to head into the cinema, leaving everyone else to follow. Mingyu and Wonwoo start chatting about Mingyuâs (alleged) drama at work that has something to do with a secretary, the CEO of the company, and his famous but estranged brother. Jihoon doesnât bother to listen, turning to look at you.Â
Your smile doesnât quite reach your eyes. âHe doesnât believe us.âÂ
âNot yet,â Jihoon whispers. âGive him time, heâs just particular.â He pauses, then says, âThe detail about Georgiaâs was good.âÂ
You nod. âIt was true.âÂ
âHow many times have you met him?âÂ
âJust once,â you say. âYou were there too.âÂ
Before Jihoon can ask anything else, Wonwoo calls, âHey, lovers, are you coming or what?â Theyâre already inside the cinema, waving for you to catch up or get left behind. You flash Jihoon a determined smile and squeeze his hand, jogging to catch up to the rest of the guys.Â
Jihoon canât help but wonder how long your lives have been like this, the roots of two trees that brush against each other but never tangle. Until now.Â
âDo we have an ETA on the kid?â Wonwoo asks as you settle into the theater seats. Youâre doing a good job of acting natural, or at the very least, not gawking at every other detail of the (admittedly stunning) theater.Â
âYouâre not calling him that now, too,â Jihoon says. âHeâs a grown adult. Also, he should be here soon.â
âHowâs the kid?â Seungcheol asks, folding his arms. Jihoon rolls his eyes with the emphasis on kid. âNo nervous breakdowns?âÂ
âHe was fine when I called him earlier,â Mingyu says. âAs soon as the cameras are on him, heâll put a smile on.âÂ
Seungcheol grunts but still looks worried. Jihoon would tell him that he cares too much, but he knows Seungcheol will just say that itâs to make up for Jihoon not caring at all, so he doesnât quite see the point. Besides, itâs Seungkwan; Jihoon is pretty sure all his friends have a soft spot for the younger man, Seungcheol especially.Â
âHe must be here,â Mingyu says when screams erupt from outside. He checks his watch. âA little early, isnât he? Doesnât he normally make a grand entrance?âÂ
Jihoon doesnât miss the way you frown at him, clearly aware that youâre missing something very important. He studies the lights and pretends not to notice your glare.Â
Most of the commotion is at the entrance, though the bulk of the press arenât allowed into the theater. Jihoon hears more than he can see, but he knows itâs Seungkwan and the rest of the star-studded cast that are used to being the center of attention. He doesnât miss you craning your neck to catch a glimpse of why everyone is staring.Â
Seungkwanâs blonde head appears from the crowd, but he makes the rounds first, checking in with every staff member, shaking hands and taking pictures. Ever the perfect celebrity.Â
Still, he doesnât miss how Seungkwan locks in on you, grabbing a tall skinny man and whispering a few words before striding across the theater to where the entire group sat.Â
âThatâs Boo Seungkwan,â you whisper. âAnd heâs walking over here.âÂ
âI didnât tell you weâre friends?â Jihoon says.Â
If looks could kill, Jihoon would be dead, but itâs worth it because even with murder on your mind you (objectively) look good. Maybe it comes from being a divorce lawyerâJihoon wonders if this is the glare you use when the to-be-divorced couples bicker, then wonders if heâs thinking a little too much about your glare.Â
The rest of his friends greet Seungkwan as if this is normal, which, technically, it is. Except this is a blockbuster movie premiere and Jihoon is using it to soft launch his (fake) relationship to his world famous best friend. To your credit, you manage to shake his hand and greet him normally.Â
If Jihoon is being honest with himself, Seungkwan is the only one he really feels guilty lying to. It doesnât sit right, even though Seungkwan is partially to blame for thinking Jihoonâs happiness is reflected directly onto his love life. It doesnât help that Seungkwan knows exactly how to guilt him, smiling and greeting you as if this is normal. Jihoon knows him too well, seeing the suspicion behind his friendâs eyes. As if convincing Seungcheol isnât hard enough.Â
âSo are all of Jihoonâs rich and famous?â You ask after he introduces himself.Â
âHey! We have the same student loans,â Wonwoo says.Â
âIâm not rich,â Seungcheol says.Â
âYeah, but your family is, so basically the same thing,â Mingyu says.Â
âNot the same thing,â Seungcheol says, glaring at Mingyu, who, honestly, should have known better than to bring that up. But because itâs Mingyu, he laughs it off, and soon enough Seungcheol is smiling too.Â
âJoshuaâs pretty broke too,â Minghao says. âHe doesnât make a million dollars for crying in front of a green screen.âÂ
âI told you, my character has grown since then,â Seungkwan says.Â
âYou cry on an actual different planet?â Seungcheol asks.Â
âIâm convinced none of you actually pay attention to the movies,â Seungkwan says with an overdramatic sigh. âWe were on Earth for the entire movie.âÂ
âWasnât there a bit where Gemma Chan yelled at someone in space?â Jihoon asks.Â
âNerd,â heâs pretty sure he heard you whisper through a fake cough.Â
âI donât know if that counts, she wasnât actually there.â Seungkwan rounds on you. âI donât suppose you remember?âÂ
âWerenât you technically in space right at the start?âÂ
Seungkwan cocks his head, thinking back. âHuh, oh yeah. I forgot that.âÂ
Jihoon has about a million questions that he wants to ask you, mostly related to Marvel movies and the fact that youâve seen them all, even though you clearly donât like the franchise. He curbs them because he knows youâll call him a nerd, plus Seungkwan almost looks like he approves.Â
âDo I have a lot to look forward to today?â You ask. âSomeone didnât tell me where we're going, so I couldnât look up any critic reviews.âÂ
Seungkwan winces. âI donât like looking at those.âÂ
Jihoon rolls his eyes. âI saw at least three headlines talking about the prodigy dropping another masterful work of acting, or whatever they say about people like you.âÂ
âNot a prodigy,â Seungkwan mutters.Â
âEither way, whatever Seungkwan is in, itâs good,â Seungcheol says, patting Seungkwan on the back. âAnd he gets paid.âÂ
âThatâs the most important part,â Wonwoo says.Â
Seungkwan looks like he wants to say more, but the director of the film waves him down and heâs forced to say a hasty goodbye, promising to meet with them later.Â
Jihoon feels your hand squeeze his tight enough to cut off his circulation. He turns to face you in the dim lighting, finding you with a disarmingly sweet smile.Â
âWhen were you going to tell me?â You ask, voice so sweet he almost believes you arenât upset.Â
âI thought it would be fun if it was a surprise?â Jihoon says.Â
You lean in close to him, your breath mixing with his, smelling faintly like clementines and something else citrusy. For some godforsaken reason, Jihoon thinks you are about to kiss him. âYouâre going to regret this.âÂ
He opens his eyes and you are gone, laughing at some joke Mingyu made about PDA. Jihoon is vaguely aware itâs at his expense, something to do with how red his ears are, but heâs too busy trying to get his heart to at least pretend like it isnât about to explode out of his chest. Why the hell did he think you were going to kiss him? Why is he disappointed that you didnât? Jihoon wonders for the thousandth time if itâs not too late to call the whole thing off, but the lights in the theater are dimming and a spotlight is put on the director, who gives an unnecessarily long speech about what a labor of love this movie was to make, and then the movie is starting, and itâs too late to run away.
Hi! Could you recommend your favorite svt authors on tumblr? Thank you âĄ
hiii, id love to!
please note that this is by no means exhaustive â i havenât been reading so much recently because my brain juice has been really low so there are so many other writers with works i havenât got round to etc but! youâll no doubt find lots of authors through these guys too. <3
here are a few recs for lovely sfw writers because sometimes i really need that in my life and ohhh do these guys deliver.<3 â @twogyuu | @wqnwoos | @starsstuddedsky | @nonranghaes | @wondernus
andddddddd some of my favourite nsfw creators, too! (worth to note that several of these authors also/even primarily write beautiful sfw fics, but there are nsfw works on their ml so i wanted to keep them separate from the sfw only writers.) â @ncteez | @hwanghyunjinenthusiast | @cheolhub | @cheolism | @wonusite | @eoieopda | @gguksgalaxy | @onlyseokmins | @ikigaisvt | @sluttywoozi | @sluttywonwoo | @onlyhuis | @lovelyhan | @rubyreduji | @toruro
i also wanna mention specifically a couple of fics that uhhh. changed my life lol because! i can!
- pretty lies by @lonelywhalien22 / one of my favourite vernon fics of all time. i still think about it on the regular. itâs a masterpiece.
- work husband by @wondernus / again, one of THE vernon fics ever, for me. incredible. had me squealing the entire way through. beautifully done. im gonna go reread it.
- as a matter of fact by @starsstuddedsky / i binged this in such a short time it was almost concerning and then just. ended up bouncing off the walls with excitement as the final parts were getting released. the butterflies i got from this one? UNREAL. peak jihoon imo.
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â writing & drabble tags can be found in search bar (tags occasionally faulty / don't show works of 15k+ words in length)
â minors do not interact w works labeled smut and / or (m)
choi seungcheol
â â§ exes and oh's
â genre. smut (18+), angst, ex-friends to lovers, fluff ish
â w/c. 15.8k
prince!hoshi x princess!reader (svthub garden collab)
word count: 18.7k
warnings: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, modern royalty au, family issues, descriptions of food, unprotected sex
tag list (only svthub members since Iâm revamping my tag list): @bitchlessdino @wondernus @idyllic-ghost @strawberryya @junkissed
notes: oh my god I finally have another fic out!! this one was truly a labor of love, thank you to all the svthub members that beta read any part of this story. this fic is for the @svthub garden collab and I am extremely grateful for the networkâs help with this story <3 Iâm very happy that this aligned with hoshiâs birthday! and a big big thank you to my beloved @wondernus for making this amazing header for me!!! as always, I hope yâall enjoy this and please leave feedback through reblogs !!!! and the title is based off the amazing song be sweet by japanese breakfast, listen along to it if youâd like!
The dayâs events shouldnât have felt so taxing, yet they were. There were only a few meetings you had to sit in on, both not requiring full participation. That sounded easy enough for you to handle, you were used to the rigor of royal meetings for years now.
It was easy enough to brush off any requests with a short comment of approval or neutrality, never expressing a thought of negativity unless the guest was close to your family.
You didnât pull the princess card very often, especially since your meetings mainly consisted of fellow royals who knew the pressure of the job, but today felt different.
Maybe it was the dull pressure that resided in your head, making it hard to focus on the topics at hand. You curse yourself for not taking some kind of headache relief earlier, but now it has lodged itself in the middle of your brain.
You almost work up the nerve to speak up, but your aide beats you to it.
âPrincess,â you feel a hand on your shoulder, âthere's an urgent matter. We should leave immediately.â Her hushed tone makes your heart clench.
You could only hope no one in your family was hurt. You silently nod and clear your throat, bringing attention to yourself.
âIâm so sorry, but something urgent came up. I have to go, but please make sure to send me any notes and Iâll be sure to review them before we meet again,â You offer the room a small smile, enough to garner empathetic nods from the room.
You let out a shaky breath and stand from your seat, your aide trailing slightly behind your side as you both exit the room in silence.
âWhatâs going on?â You ask hesitantly.
âSomeone has requested a private meeting with you, they asked to keep their identity a secret. Everyone in the family is okay, donât worry,â The aide turns her head slightly to make sure she can see your response.
You canât help but ask about your family first, itâs the only thought you have as the only child.
If someoneâs passed on, youâre stepping up to handle the situation, and the emergency plans start to kick into high gear.
Luckily, that nightmare can remain at rest.
âOkay,â you nod slowly, trying to process who could want a private meeting with you.
Is an elder statesman concerned about his country? An estranged family member asking for a favor? It really could be anything or anyone.
You both keep a consistent pace through the cavernous halls of the royal estate, your footsteps echoing loudly with each step. You soon arrive at one of many conference rooms, and youâre surprised to see your aide face her back towards the door, she steps aside to let you walk in.
âIâll be out here if you need anything, lest it escalates to that point,â She raises her eyebrows at you before looking away. That wasnât a reassuring sign.
You brace yourself before going inside, but nothing seems to prepare you for whoâs waiting.
âHi, lovely.â Kwon Soonyoung smiles at you in a menacingly sweet kind of way, it makes your blood boil.
Heâs dressed much nicer than youâre used to seeing him, heâs the type to wear baggy clothes that swallow him whole. In contrast, today he wears a crisp button-down with black slacks, his suit coat nowhere to be found. His signature designer sneakers are exchanged for loafers instead. Thereâs no logical reason why he could be here, considering his own busy schedule as a prince.
Soonyoung isnât flying in for a private conversation just for the hell of it.
âWhy are you here?â Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance.
âThatâs what we need to talk about. Weâre getting married,â He lifts the corner of his mouth.
You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, youâre nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. Itâs simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.
Most princesses knew to let each other know that if they were charmed by him, Soonyoung was ultimately not marriage material. If anything, he was determined to make himself the least suitable husband possible.
He was the typical sweet boy turned party animal, spending most nights abroad drinking his days away with a new girl in his bed every night. He does show up to the occasional political obligation, but only when his team forces him to. Thatâs one reason why he bothers you so much, he has such little duty to his native country of Aranorin and the people in it that everyone else has to make him care about it.
âYouâre joking, thereâs no fucking way,â Your body vibrates from laughter, but you slowly come to your senses once you see heâs not cracking another joke.
âIâm not joking, Iâm here to start our courtship.â His serious tone makes you start to consider the gravity of the situation.
âHold on, so you think you can just come into Maritria, coming from god knows where,â You make a broad gesture toward him before continuing, âto formally start our relationship. Thatâs what youâre saying,â You cross your arms, returning to your originally defensive stance.
âYes, this isnât just coming out of thin air. This has been in the works for a few months now,â He raises his eyebrows to punctuate the timeline. It just makes you even more confused. Why wouldnât anyone tell you about this?
âWhat do you mean?â You question.
He braces himself one last time. âIâve been speaking to the king and queen about arranging our marriage for two months,â You almost think his face goes slightly sympathetic at his admission, but thatâs wishful thinking.
Regardless, itâs a blow to your ego.
How could they not tell you? How could they so easily shift the responsibility onto him without saying a word?
It would be one thing if they were still considering other men, but to know the talks were final, that Kwon Soonyoung was your future husband whether you liked it or not, was a devastating realization.
âThis is unbelievable.â You let out a shaky whisper, youâre so rattled that you force yourself to sit down and close your eyes, willing yourself to take a deep breath.
You open your eyes to see him hovering near you, clearly a stifled attempt to try and comfort you. Yet, heâs the least comforting person youâve ever known.
âI donât want to do this either. Youâre definitely not my first choice for a wife.â He scoffs at the possibility that he could ever choose you without incentive.
âYeah, clearly. Youâd rather want a girl who would kiss your ass every day instead of being honest with you.â You retort.
The gossip that flitted between young royals all but confirmed your suspicion that he dumped any girl that tried to make a long-term connection with him. It was fine if he didnât want to get married. Not all royals are meant for it, and he didnât have as much pressure to marry off as the youngest child. He could get away with being a lifetime bachelor, but choosing that lifestyle wasnât worth hurting other people in the process.
âAw, is lifetime celibacy boring you that much to the point where youâre worried about the girls I sleep with?â He cracks a smile that you match with a forced laugh.
âNo, I just think you dump them as soon as they realize how small your dick is.â You smile through your response, causing him to form his arms together.
âYouâre so lucky now that weâre together, you can finally stop waiting for those nice guys who donât have a personality to sweep you up,â His condescending tone makes you frustrated but not deterred from bantering completely.
âSo I can end up dating one of your dickhead friends instead? Absolutely not,â You shake your head knowing how insufferable most of his friends are. Soonyoung just happened to be the worst of them.
âAll jokes aside, I know youâre perfectly aware of why weâre getting married. I donât have to look at the news to know things are bleak,â His straightforward approach forces you to swallow the lump in your throat.
You knew the countryâs finances were not great.
You didnât want or need to see the exact numbers, especially if it makes your day-to-day duties labored with worry. Although many political teams insist that princesses have no business in the logistical affairs of running a country, it meant everything to you to know how your country was faring in the world. Maritria already maintained a longstanding connection with Aranorin that gave your country some freedom to pursue other lucrative opportunities, but it dawned on you that it wasnât enough.
âIâm doing this for my country, not out of some pathetic excuse you may have to avoid self-reflection. You can just get married to me and stop pretending to be a good person, right?â You ask bitingly.
âWe both know I stopped pretending a long time ago. Marrying the nationâs sweetheart is just a bonus,â He smirks unapologetically, you donât like the way the nickname sits on his tongue as if itâs his own.
âIs there anything else you want? I need to get back to work,â You stand up from your seat, trying not to look back at the door while you plot your escape. It was hard enough not to completely explode at him, and you needed to redirect your energy elsewhere.
âThere is, I got you something,â He retrieves a small velvet box from his pocket. âItâs not an engagement ring, but just consider it a courtship gift.â
You open the box and lightly examine the ring. You know itâs far too expensive than most of the jewelry youâve ever worn. Your family was wealthy, but Soonyoungâs family had the kind of money that you didnât need to plan so carefully around. However, you donât want to seem so easily impressed.
âItâs fine. When are you planning on proposing?â You brush him off easily.
âThat ruins the surprise.â He smiles at you yet your face remains stoic.
âIâll get your number from someone else, I donât want to drag this out anymore.â You stuff the box in your dress pocket and start to make your way toward the exit.
âItâs been horrible to see you again, Your Royal Highness.â His stiffly formal greeting makes you turn around to face him.
You squint your eyes. âDonât do that.â
âWhat?â
âThe Royal Highness thing,â You point at yourself before continuing, âIâm not gonna say Your Royal Highness every time weâre in private. Donât start giving a shit now.â
âFine. Bye, darling.â He quips.
Your face contorts into disgust before you can stop yourself. âYouâre not gonna make that my mandated wife nickname.â
âYou donât get to choose the nickname I give you, honey.â He approaches you and pinches your cheek before speaking, âBesides, itâll be fun to try to figure out how to mask my hate for you in public.â
You cringe at his touches, but you straighten up immediately.
âLikewise,â You offer a tight-lipped smile before finally leaving the room.
You close the door behind you and take the breath you didnât know you were holding in.
âCan you clear my schedule for the rest of the day? I need time to deal with this,â You finally look at your aide with an expectant glance.
âYes, of course, princess.â She immediately grabs her phone to send notices to those involved. You canât even remember who you were meant to see for the rest of the day. Your mind simply wanders to your parents, the next targets of your rage.
âIâm gonna go home. I donât want to see anyone unless itâs my parents. Or him, not that I want him around anyways,â You roll your eyes at the thought of having to voluntarily communicate with him on a regular basis.
âSounds good. I have his phone number, if youâd like it.â She offers.
âOk,â You agree and quickly input his phone number. As you type in a contact name, youâre not sure what to call him.
Soonyoung is far too casual, it doesnât feel comfortable yet. Youâre absolutely not calling him by his title, not by a long shot.
The romantic pet names similar to the ones he used with you were not earned, so it left you stumped.
You settle on âheadache,â because the ache in your temple is still there, bothering you immensely and now heâs adding to it.
Youâre just lucky that you didnât end up shouting at each other this time.
â
As if they could read your mind, your parents call you in for an emergency meeting before you can make it home. That pent-up rage is starting to make its way out before you even see them, it shows in the way you stomp to your fatherâs main office, marching far ahead of your aide.
You open the door without knocking, a major sign that youâre not looking forward to the discussion.
Your father gives you a warning look, but youâre not bothered by it. The staff turns their attention toward your bold entrance, immediately preparing themselves to leave.
Your father is sitting in his velvet study chair, poised as always. Your mother stands behind your father, idly leaning her weight against the back wall.
Her demeanor is not as composed, as if she knows youâre about to raise hell.
âWeâd like a private meeting, thank you,â He gives a pained smile to the staff and they all file out silently. You watch them with a fiery gaze, waiting for the last person to close the door behind you.
When the door finally shuts, you whip your gaze to face them again.
âSoonyoung? Are you kidding me?â You exclaim.
âY/N, please,â Your mother tries to intercept, but youâre faster than that.
âActually, Iâd like to know exactly why I was left out of the conversation about me having an arranged marriage, to begin with,â You cross your arms and lean back in your chair, preparing yourself for a bullshit excuse.
âWell, we were anticipating this kind of reaction,â he gestures at you in disapproval, âyou werenât meant to be involved in these discussions in the first place.â He speaks to you so patronizingly that it almost catches you off guard.
âSo you can just decide that Iâm getting married on a whim, just like that.â You snap your fingers impatiently.
âYou know how the country is currently faring, you knew marriage could possibly be an option for financial security almost a year ago. Please donât act like this is some affront to you,â Your father slowly raises his voice, fists slowly clenching as he elaborates.
âYes, but you didnât tell me things were this bad. You didnât tell me that you had tried everything else. Hell, you didnât even tell me that you were starting discussions about marriage!â You were trying your best to keep your voice even, but the defeat was starting to show through.
âWe ultimately thought leaving you in the dark was best, but we miscalculated.â Your mother tries to cover for your fatherâs stern approach. You scoff, turning away for a moment before continuing.
Miscalculated is an understatement. You were devastated.
Your father seems to be annoyed that you were showing this much emotion while your mother seems ashamed that the situation has escalated this far. Their conflicting expressions just made you feel even worse, knowing that they couldnât act as a united front. You wished that it was either complete anger or support from both of them.
âSoonyoung. You canât possibly tell me he was the only option,â You turn back to them with glossy eyes.
âSweetheart, you know Arinorin is one of our most important allies. Soonyoung would have always been an option. Even if there were better options, we couldnât ignore him.â Her comforting tone does little to comfort you at the moment.
A tear finally falls onto your cheek. Her words hurt because she was right. Even if there was a perfect prince waiting for you out there, he wasnât the prince of Arinorin.
âHe hates me, you donât see how much he hates me.â You shake your head and cover your face with your hands. Youâre fully sobbing into your hands and it leaves your parents speechless. You know theyâre looking at you with full judgment, but it didnât matter.
âYouâre giving your only daughter away to a man who despises her.â You seethe through your tears.
âHe hasnât given us any reason not to trust him.â Your father speaks up again and it breaks you down even further. He has that immovable stare on his face that signals his word is final.
You compose yourself before speaking again.
âWhen we get a divorce, itâll be your fault.â You lift your hand to your cheeks, wiping away any stray tears left on your face.
âYouâre being ridiculous, youâre saying that you wonât even try for your country?â Your father shifts in his seat, it seems like he wants to jump up and fully lecture you but it wonât happen.
You finally snap. âI have tried for this country! Every day, I have shown both of you what Iâm capable of as a future queen, not asking you for anything. Now, the one part of my life where I should have control, choosing the person Iâm married to, I have none.â By the time you finish speaking, your tears are gone by sheer will. Your eyes burn with the familiar sting of fatigue mixed with anger bubbling over the surface.
âIâm sorry, dear.â You see your mother wipe a tear of her own. You were grateful that she saw through you, at least at this moment. It was a quiet show of support that you needed amongst all these difficult feelings.
You put your head in your hands for a moment before looking up at them. âIâm going home and someone will send me the things I need to wrap my head around this entire situation.â Your tone is far more measured compared to before.
Before you can hurt your own feelings by hearing them out, you decide to make your exit. Youâre nearly out of the door before you turn around again, letting go of the doorknob.
âIâll always remember that he told me first instead of you.â With that, you leave without looking back at their expressions.
Hopefully, itâll hurt like hell for them to hear it.
You ignore the staff members that were peering near the door, eagerly waiting to see who would break first. Youâre sure that it looks dramatic, but you were far too concerned with your own feelings before anyone elseâs.
â
Once you made it home, you were attempting to forget the stress of the day and it was going relatively well. You were able to catch up on a TV show youâd been forgetting to watch, and finally remembering to do self-care tasks that were left unattended due to your work.
Now, youâre taking a bubble bath with no intention of opening your eyes anytime soon. You needed to just sit, you didnât have much time to do that most days.
The water is still fairly hot, enough to where you can sink down and continue to salvage any remaining calmness you mightâve had left.
Thus, your vibrating phone didnât exactly make you feel at ease. You hope that it wasnât one of your parents, considering your conversation didnât have a clean finish. Any of their apologies would be falling on stubborn ears.
You glance at your lock screen and if anything, itâs worse.
Itâs him. You pick up the phone with an anxious hand and press the accept button.
âWhat do you want?â You snap at him.
âYou actually picked up!â He notes with a hint of surprise.
âTrust me, I didnât want to.â You shift uncomfortably in the bathtub, the sloshing water calling you out immediately.
âIs that water? What are you doing?â His curious nature already annoys you, so itâll be easier to dodge the question.
âNone of your business.â Your free hand cups the remaining bubbles in the bath.
âOh my god, is the princess naked on the phone with me?â He sounds far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his shit-eating grin in the way he replies.
âYouâre a horny little freak who hasnât told me why heâs called yet.â You force yourself to sit up now that the relaxation in your body is quickly dissipating.
âRight. Weâre doing intimacy coordination tomorrow. I figured you didnât look at that schedule they gave you.â
âShit.â You sigh just out of earshot.
Intimacy coordination isnât common at all with arranged royal marriages. If a couple looked like they had never met before in their life, it was typically on them for not being more convincing. Yet, the number of public events you two have to be involved in over the foreseeable future warranted different circumstances. If you couldnât look head over heels for each other at the wedding, it was going to spell trouble for both countries.
âIâm only in town until tomorrow night, so I donât have to look at your face for much longer than that,â You sigh at his response, knowing that heâs not one to hold back with you.
âI wish you could leave sooner, maybe I could actually enjoy not seeing you even more than I already do.â You reach to open the drain.
âJust practicing my future husband duties by stressing you out, love,â You can practically hear his smile through the phone.
âThat one isnât bad, actually,â Your thoughts trail off once you hear it, but he brings you back to reality almost immediately.
âSo thatâs definitely not what Iâm gonna call you.â
âIâm hanging up.â Your waning patience with him has officially run out and youâre itching to move on with your night.
âBye, honey!â Heâs laughing uncontrollably through the response and it makes your blood boil. Itâs clear that this is already a joke to him.
âFuck off,â You hang up before you have to listen to his laughter any longer. You put your head in your hands and let out a muffled scream.
He already wanted to make this courtship as excruciating as possible.
You finally stand up from the bath and wrap a warm towel around your body, staring at your reflection in the mirror.
Luckily, your parents did listen to your request and a massive document of schedules and timelines of your relationship with Soonyoung appeared in your email inbox.
You had only skimmed the schedule before Soonyoung called you, you stopped looking at it before it stressed you out beyond repair.
According to the timeline your parents created in accordance with his team, you were supposed to have been dating for 11 months at this point.
You canât possibly imagine putting up a front for 11 months, but then again, you would have to pretend for the rest of your life.
That thought haunts you through the rest of your night routine.
How do you carve your life around Soonyoung when heâs creeping his way into everything?
How do you find peace when youâre with someone whoâs determined to misunderstand you?
These questions have you wiping your tears as you attempt to fall asleep that night.
â
To your dismay, the intimacy training was first thing in the morning.
You were barely conscious, but somehow you arrived early with a slightly cloudy mentality and an overall dread for the next 2 hours.
You were the first of the three, besides your personal staff members, to arrive at the dance studio. You figured the space was far too big for what you were working through today, but you forego criticism to admire the room.
Admittedly, you didnât go into many of the creative spaces throughout the palace because you werenât a creative type. The arts were simply something you admired from afar, you didnât have the talent even as a child to pursue these things seriously.
This apparently needed to be remedied as you notice the sweeping mirrors around the perimeter of the room. The hardwood floors were practically shining underneath your feet. Youâre sure that whoever used the room was sure to enjoy themselves.
Youâre admiring yourself in the mirror when you catch Soonyoung entering the room. He quietly greets the staff, giving short bows to everyone in sight.
Itâs the only time youâve seen him act with a royal demeanor, even in his casual workout clothes itâs a bit surprising to see him this way.
He makes his way over to you with a smile on his face.
âYouâre early.â He eyes you up and down.
âUnfortunately, yes. You look.. comfortable.â You donât mean to raise your voice up another octave, but you were just barely attempting niceties.
âSo do you, you actually donât look like you're trying too hard for once.â He leans against the mirror and gives you another judgmental look.
âItâs far too early in the morning to play this game, Kwon Soonyoung. Donât get your feelings hurt.â You close your eyes before you get too angry, a slight change of pace from your typical interactions with him.
âItâs fine. Iâm sure youâll be more awkward considering youâve only had two boyfriends, one who looked like he was your son.â He stifled a giggle.
âChan was so sweet.â You pouted at the thought of your teenage boyfriend. He really was kind, probably the perfect first boyfriend that you could ask for. You remember how much he cried when you broke up with him. You just werenât the same person you were when you started dating him at 16, so you needed the space to grow apart.
Unfortunately, Soonyoung was right about the mom thing.
âItâs not my fault I had a growth spurt and the stylists kept dressing me like a divorce lawyer.â You insisted.
You recalled how harsh the style blogs were on you back then, many claimed that youâd never find your own personal style as long as other people kept dressing you older than you actually were. Unfortunately, they were also right. You live and learn though.
However, you didnât even want to think about your second boyfriend.
âIâm just saying good chemistry doesnât come naturally to all of us, itâs okay to ask for help.â His faux concern was especially irritating.
You werenât that awkward with men, were you?
You didnât have much time to consider an answer before a young woman walked into the studio.
âHi, itâs nice to meet you both! My name is Elise and Iâll be leading you both through training today.â She offers her hand out to you for a handshake and you accept with a smile. She does the same to Soonyoung and moves toward the mirror.
âSo, how long have you known each other?â She dives right into discussions with the question.
âAround 15 years or so?â The number that came out of your mouth was definitely a rough estimate, but it sounded about right.
You vaguely remember being introduced to Soonyoung and his older siblings at a fancy state dinner as a child. He was far less mischievous then, a bit timid around everyone except his family. Since then, youâve ran into each other regularly due to the relationship between your parents. They were far closer to each other than you were with him and his siblings, so the situation feels a bit ironic now.
âOkay, but Iâm assuming you havenât been in contact very often?â She clarifies.
âNot at all.â He chimes in.
âRight, so weâve got our work cut out for us then. Today isnât gonna be too complicated, youâre just gonna be trying some physical activities to see how natural that looks.â Elise smiles in order to lighten the mood, but youâre certain it wonât work out.
âSo, what are we gonna practice, hugging?â He scoffs, and youâre certain that he thinks this is all bullshit. You werenât happy about it either, but keeping up appearances was the most important part of this.
âYes, I know that sounds weird, but I promise itâll pay off,â Elise continues to offer reassuring statements, but heâs not convinced and frankly, neither are you. You exchange a glance with him and decide to take the lead as the awkwardness continues to sit in the air.
âSo where should we start?â You ask out of a mix of curiosity and dread.
âLetâs just have you both hold hands.â
Soonyoung extends a hand out to you with a smirk on his face. Youâd rather slap him, but youâd think it would leave Elise traumatized.
You take his hand a bit too forcefully and adjust yourself within his hold. By glancing at the two of you in the mirror, you notice two things.
First, his hands are warm, a bit too warm for this moment.
Secondly, his thumb is absentmindedly brushing against the back of your hand. You canât call attention to it or else itâll stop, and you decide in the moment that itâs too relaxing. He probably doesnât even notice that heâs doing something so romantic, that little bastard.
âOkay, so how does that feel?â Elise asks.
âFine.â The reply forces itself out of your mouth.
âItâs fine.â He agrees with a nod of his head. He also peers at the both of you in the mirror with a slight curiosity, his head tilting slightly.
âWe do look good together, though.â He murmurs to himself. Youâre not sure if itâs the arrogance peeking through and he only believes you look good while heâs with you, but maybe for a second, you can see what heâs talking about.
âGood, and whatâs a small physical gesture you can do to make each other feel at ease?â Eliseâs question causes you to look up at him.
This feels unnecessary since Soonyoung is not a nervous person. No matter what, his particularly frustrating charm and gregarious personality never allow any anxiety to show to others.
âI can just do this.â He calls attention to the thumb thing and that puts you on the spot.
He seems incapable of needing comfort. Itâs one of the things that keeps a silent distance between the two of you. You believe that he remains emotionally stunted in order to navigate his world a bit easier.
He can let the girls who want something more from him down easy, and they donât realize how bad it really felt to be pushed away until they never see him again.
You didnât want to end up in that position.
âI donât know.â You let your mind wander for a moment.
Yet, he was bold. He was always decisive in what he wanted, never caring about what his actions made him look like if it was for better or worse.
You figured that you should be bold too.
You intertwine your fingers deeper into his grasp and pull his hand to your lips, leaving a small peck on the back of his hand.
His eyes widened immediately. âThatâs quite forward, princess.â
âI needed to one-up you,â You answer nonchalantly, but you donât miss the slight spark in his eyes. It was unexpected, and you were always going by the book.
Elise ignores your conversation and continues her questioning. âSo I assume you both will be interested in PDA?â
âTo a certain extent, I don't see why not.â You pull back slightly into your reserved nature, but he runs with it.
âYes, weâre supposed to be a more open and progressive couple to represent a new generation of royals, so it would be nice to be a bit bolder,â He nods decisively along with his response.
You didnât really think about the relationship like that until he mentioned it. While you were attuned to a certain sense of responsibility as the singular face of your countryâs new generation of leadership, it was known that you fought back against regressive norms brought up in your daily work.
Why not lean into something new when the image of your respective countries so desperately needed a refresh?
âThatâs good to know. I know you both have different styles, but I think there are ways we can meet in the middle here.â Elise notes.
That statement proves to be true for the rest of your session. Elise leads you both through hugging and slightly provocative gestures that make you want to crawl out of your skin, but you both fumble your way through it.
Soonyoung seems insistent on embarrassing you with more revealing gestures while yours are relatively contained. Heâs being a bit too playful for your liking, but it helps you understand his personality a bit more.
You decide that you want a moment to speak with him before he flies back home later that evening, excusing Elise and the remaining staff to leave you both in the studio.
âWhen do we see each other again?â You ask.
âYouâre a bit too eager, arenât you darling?â He smirks at you, and you lose the slight bit of faith you had instilled in him before.
âShut up, Iâm just trying to remember this stupid schedule.â You grumble. You resort to pulling out your phone instead, quickly finding the most up-to-date iteration of the relationship timeline in your email inbox.
âIâll be in Arinorin in a few weeks to meet your parents,â Your brain works through the schedule quickly, scanning the information fast enough to say it out loud.
âOh shit.â He mutters under his breath.
Oh shit was right. You havenât had a proper conversation with the king and queen since you were a teenager. It was typical family friend fare, asking how your studies were going, if your hobbies were still things you enjoyed and a faint interest in any other topics that you happened to bring up.
Since then, there were only brief interactions in passing that were fairly positive. They mustâve thought quite well of you if they agreed to have their youngest son marry you, but that was something youâd have to inquire about with them.
âAnd to go on a date with you,â You mumbled.
Thatâs what really rattled you. It wouldnât be real until no one else was around to direct and stage your romance, it was up to the both of you to make it happen.
âRight, Iâll get to choose what we get up to.â You can tell that his brain is creating a vision that will be less than satisfactory, and you canât fight the urge to attempt to gain control.
âWe arenât going on your yacht, are we? I think youâve broken enough hearts there.â You tease him.
âVery funny, and no, weâre not going on the boat⌠anymore.â He admits with an eye roll.
âSee! I knew you were gonna take me there!â You interject, letting out the laugh that had been sitting in your chest for a minute or so.
âIâm never anybodyâs boyfriend, cut me some slack,â He says it as if itâd get him off the hook for being mentally checked out during this process.
That much was obvious from the lack of planning, but youâd have to give him some space to try and impress you.
âYeah, thatâs pretty clear. I know long-term planning isnât your strength.â You bite back and he brushes it off easily.
âGet all your jokes out now, but Iâm gonna impress you. Mark my words,â He points at you while heading towards the door.
âWeâll see about that, loverboy,â You check your phone absentmindedly while he sees himself out.
âIs that my nickname?â He pokes his head back into the door with an excited tone.
âBye, Soonyoung,â You grit your teeth into a smile and watch him reluctantly leave the room.
You can only hope your future in-laws arenât as insufferable as him.
â
A few weeks later, the trip to Arinorin has arrived and all of its possible consequences are driving you up a wall. The culmination of meeting with your future in-laws, the date with Soonyoung, and the idea of being perceived as his partner outside of your home country are all slightly nauseating.
At first, it was just fun and games, but now, as the plane lands, the tension settles beneath your skin. Soonyoung was supposed to be picking you up, but you didnât have much faith in that happening.
You barely remembered to grab the ring he gifted you so you could wear it while you were in town, simply as a reminder that this was all happening.
You exit the plane with your luggage in tow, only for Soonyoung to be waiting on the tarmac. Heâs accompanied by a large black SUV that is clearly not his personal car, but his stance is trying to convince you that it is.
âHi, princess.â He calls out with a wave of his hand.
âWhen are you gonna actually call me by my name?â You approach him with squinted eyes, your vision steadily adjusting to the early afternoon sun.
âWhen this feels less awkward, so give or take a few years,â He jokes.
âNot funny,â You gesture to him to take your luggage, and he catches the hint once you look at him again. You donât want to shoulder smaller tasks onto his staff, you wanted to see how he would handle these things instead.
âHow was the flight?â He calls out to you again, you hear the trunk slam shut and he comes into view again to anticipate your answer.
âIt was alright, Iâm just tired.â You rub at your temples to punctuate the feeling.
âHopefully your room will be good enough,â He sounds somewhat considerate while opening the door for you. It feels wrong.
You slide into the back row with him following behind you. He shuts the door and his driver promptly begins the drive to the palace.
âAre you nervous about the trip? My parents arenât exactly as kind as yours,â Soonyoung chuckles.
You let out a deep sigh. You wouldnât call them kind considering the circumstances, in fact, youâre barely on speaking terms with them outside of public obligations.
Was it petty? Yes.
Was it also justified? Yes.
You figured that icing them out for a while would help them come to their senses. If worst comes to worst, maybe it could help you gain further control over the wedding.
Nevertheless, you were still upset with them.
âTheyâre really not that great, and Iâd say that Iâm pretty good with parents,â You avoid his glance to look out the window instead, taking in the sights of the country.
You donât have many memories of Arinorin. Many of them were informed by meetings that you couldnât even remember anymore.
âYouâre right. The nationâs sweetheart can charm anyone. Plus itâll give me time to think about what weâre gonna do on the date,â He affirms with a nod of his head.
âGod, donât remind me. If Iâm lucky, weâll be meeting at a strip club.â You roll your eyes.
âYou really have no faith in me!â He pouts. You donât give into him though.
âIt's hard enough just being in a car with you.â
â
Soonyoung doesnât ever have to think about first dates.
In fact, he doesnât think heâs been on a proper first date since he was a teenager. Even then, it was low stakes. He could just pick something random for him and another girl to do, and it would be completely inconsequential to his life.
Now, impressing his future wife with an incredible first date feels monumental. He barely knew anything about you besides that goody two shoes personality of yours. It seemed like everyone was suddenly obsessed with you and he was the last to know.
He decides that a midday picnic is inoffensive enough for the both of you to enjoy. If either of you were miserable with each other, there would at least be good food to distract from it. The sunny weather was already on his side, now he just had to charm you.
You waved slightly as you approached his picnic blanket, stopping before your feet could cover the edge of the blanket.
âWow, this is a lot,â Your eyes landed on the assortment of food spread across the blanket. There was a spread of fruit, snacks, and sandwiches for the two of you to eat together. Soonyoung knew he didnât completely fuck up by the way you nodded, but you werenât exactly jumping to praise him in general.
âI donât get a hello?â He attempts a greeting but it falls flat.
You roll your eyes. âHi, Soonyoung,â You state halfheartedly, crossing your arms in protest.
âHi. Does the food look alright?â He takes off his sunglasses and fixes his gaze on you.
âYeah, I figured youâd be inept at setting up a date, so itâs surpassed my expectations already,â You give him a tight-lipped smile before sitting on the blanket. He attempts to ignore the way your dress hikes up slightly to expose your thigh. The sundress that youâre wearing seems to expose every detail of your body that heâs neglected to look at, but he snaps back into focus when he hears you clear your throat.
Once you both start eating, itâs clear how little you have in common with each other. Sure, he figured itâd be a little difficult to get to know you, but the lingering silence doesnât exactly make him eager to strike up a conversation.
âHow do you feel about all this?â You ask suddenly. It catches him so off guard that he chokes on the piece of fruit he was chewing.
He coughs, raising the attention of the nearby guards. You turn to them, giving a signal that heâs okay before turning around. âDamn, I didnât think the question was that bad,â You laugh sadly.
âNo, itâs fine. I just didnât expect it.â He waves off any suspicion.
He takes a deep breath. âI mean, Iâm not thrilled. I know the economic aspect of this is the most important thing, but my parents are practically dying to marry me off,â He reaches for a bottle of wine, grabbing a nearby glass before pouring himself something to drink.
âSo Iâm not the first?â You ask.
âAbsolutely not,â He snickers. This relationship would mark the 5th time his parents have tried to set him up with a fellow royal. He has managed to sabotage all previous attempts on account of pissing his parents off.
The girls they set him up with were nice enough, but he had no chemistry with any of them. He felt like sparing them from a relationship full of misery by ruining it before it even started.
âSo your parents figured you wouldnât want to escape a marriage instead of just dating?â You attempt to clarify.
âBingo,â He sips his wine before handing you the bottle.
âSo, does that mean youâre gonna try to escape this?â You accept it and pour yourself a fuller glass, immediately taking a sip after asking the question.
âI think youâd be pretty fucked if I tried to do that. Iâm not that much of an asshole,â He shakes his head and laughs it off. Since being hated by his parents was bad enough, Soonyoung didnât want to become the center of an emerging geopolitical crisis.
It would fuck everyone over, especially you. He could at least admit to himself that you didnât deserve that.
âThatâs nice, I guess,â You smile halfheartedly at him.
âDonât say I never did anything for you.â He speaks in an unusually flat tone before turning away to face the view of sprawling hills and seemingly endless mountaintops. The sight of the burgeoning nature surrounding the houses below him brought a sense of peace.
Before you asked, he hadn't given the entire arranged marriage process much thought. Sure, he knew that youâd be getting married relatively soon, but he had no idea how to present himself as a good partner. He didnât exactly know how to move forward knowing that everyone expected him to fail.
âYou really are a dickhead,â You mumble.
âYouâre not exactly sweet as pie either. Everyone loves you, but youâre fucking miserable to be around.â He responds in a piercing tone.
âWell, if you get to be a cunt, then so should I. Itâs not like Iâm getting anything out of this,â You shoot back.
You were definitely worse off as an only child. Sure, he was the black sheep of the family, but he could get away with plenty of things as the youngest. His siblings were off impressing the world by ruling the country, getting PhDs, having a shit ton of kids, and generally being upstanding citizens.
However, it didnât make sense for him to try that hard.
âYour countryâs finances wonât go to shit, isnât that enough?â
His question seems to bring out another layer of frustration for you. âNo, I want a husband who gives two shits about me past my bra size, but apparently thatâs wishful thinking,â You angrily bite into a strawberry and turn away from him.
âLook, we donât have to do anything except pretend that weâre in love. So, letâs not do anything past that. Alright?â He proposes. Your face is unreadable, but the way you chew on the inside of your lip shows that heâd never get to know whatâs eating away at you.
âAlright,â Your body language seems to retreat completely.
The mood of the date is different after that, and his request seems to render you both silent as you eat the rest of the food without interacting. The view of the countryside makes him wish that he didnât have to deal with any of this, just live in a tiny house where no one had to remind him about his impending marriage.
â
The entire day leading up to the Youth Summit Ball left you feeling incredibly rattled.
You know the staff is perfectly capable of executing your vision for the ball as they've done year after year. It was one of your signature events as a royal, and its annual presence in Maritria brought much-needed attention to the country with the presence of young royals and its ever-popular red carpet.
Tonight, however, would be the first time Soonyoung is escorting you as a âlongtimeâ boyfriend in public. Youâve been seen together in public, yes, but this is a public declaration that you are hypothetically in love with him. As a co-chair of the event, nothing could go wrong since many of your peers would be attending with their families.
Nothing could go wrong, thus you needed him to know the extent of your anxiety.
You heard a knock on the door, and youâre accepting them inside without a second thought.
âYou wanted to see me?â He asks as he steps inside the dressing room.
Youâre thrown by how handsome he looks. You argued with each other over text about what he should wear, he insisted that it didnât matter. Yet, your color palettes were not to be betrayed. You internally thank yourself for persisting with a navy suit. It contrasted well with his platinum-blonde hair that seemed to attract as many eyes as possible while you were out in public together.
âYes, I did. You need to behave tonight, Iâm not risking anything because you want to get your dick wet,â You scoff.
âTrust me, I already got this little lecture from your mother. Iâll be fine.â He smirks at you, not doing much to quiet the anxiety that was starting to build in your stomach.
âWell, your girlfriend is telling you herself that Iâm serious about this,â Your hands automatically move up to his shoulders, smoothing out the nonexistent creases on his jacket. It was still weird to call yourself his girlfriend, the word felt too stiff coming from your mouth.
âAnd Iâm reluctantly listening,â He moves his hand to your bare shoulder, brushing something off with a few light sweeps. You opted to wear a black form fitting gown, the design was relatively simple but it was still eye-catching. You thought you noticed Soonyoung taking glances at you.
âDo you remember everything I told you about tonight?â You remind him.
âWhy wouldnât I remember, Y/N?â He gives you that âare you seriousâ kind of look and youâre starting to buckle under the pressure.
âI donât know, maybe youâre nervous or something,â You turn away from him, peering into the mirror to check if there are any flaws with your makeup.
âI donât get nervous about stuff like this. Are you nervous?â You see him approaching, but you put your focus immediately back on your face.
âWhat? No, stop, Iâm fine,â You purse your lips to check your lipstick. He mimics you, pushing his lips out like a duck and it startles you.
âThose cheeks of yours are telling me otherwise,â He rubs a finger on your cheek and you slap it away almost immediately.
âStop, Soonyoung, Iâm serious. Letâs just get through the night.â You shoot him a warning look and he puts his hands up defensively.
âOkay, no funny business. I promise,â He smiles. Itâs not enough to convince you, but your mind is too focused on creating a good outcome for the night that itâs fruitless trying to argue with him any further.
âReady for a good time?â He offers his hand out to you, and you reluctantly accept it.
âIt sounds bad when you say it.â
â
âYou know, she said we should kiss just once to see what itâs like,â His voice was slightly slurred as if the alcohol was slowly taking possession of his words.
âYouâre just tipsy,â You throw your purse across the living room and fumble to lock the door shut.
âNo, you are, I saw you sneak two shots out of the kitchen,â He points with a shocked smile, âplus a few glasses of chardonnay. Youâre not fooling me, princess.â
He was probably right, but that didnât make it any better. âGod forbid that I wanna drink at my own event. Why are you at my place right now?â Youâre irritated at his presence almost constantly.
âYou wanted me to do everything for you, remember? So you could just hop into bed with no worries,â He waves his arm into the air.
The event went well, accounting for your drunkenness and Soonyoungâs unpredictable nature.
âWhat are you waiting for then? Take my shoes off,â You flail your arms helplessly, your body is slowly slumping forward but Soonyoung catches you before you stumble.
âOkay, let's sit down, miss bossy. Youâre ordering me around when I was a perfect boyfriend tonight,â He guides you to your couch, slowly easing you down onto the seat when you let out an audible sigh of relief.
âYou were an average boyfriend who didnât look stupid in front of paparazzi. Donât feel too proud of yourself.â Your tolerance for his shenanigans was lower than usual now that you were drunk, and you didnât feel bad about fighting back at him.
âAll of this is extra credit,â He tries to reason himself out of the bare minimum.
âTaking care of me is not extra credit, itâs the standard. Youâre supposed to be taking care of me for the rest of my life, not just right now. Idiot,â You roll your eyes and close them briefly before his voice forces you awake again.
âYouâre so mean to me, your poor boyfriend is still learning what you like,â He finally takes off your heels and you let out a deep sigh of relief.
âBetter?â He asks with a smile. You know that he wants to laugh at you so badly, but youâre too far gone to care.
âMuch better,â You close your eyes for a moment before snapping again. âTake off my jewelry.â
He removes your earrings quite easily, but you still feel a bit flustered when he leans toward your ear to focus on undoing the clasps of your necklace.
He settles his face near your neck to fully remove your diamond necklace, he cradles it in his hand and you think you might go slightly insane. He places it on the coffee table gently and looks back at you with a smirk.
âWhatâs going on?â You pick up on his expression.
âNothing, Iâm gonna do your hair.â He turns your body so your back is facing him now. Heâs sort of just feeling around for bobby pins, placing them down on the coffee table whenever he pulls another out. Once he takes out the decorative pins near the top of your head, your hair finally feels free.
âSoonyoung?â You ask suddenly.
âHmm?â Heâs organizing all the hairpins but takes a moment to look up at you.
âDo you think Iâm pretty?â Your voice is a bit timid, nervous about how he might react. You wouldâve contained yourself in any other circumstance, but now you just needed to head that you were worth complimenting.
âWhereâs all this coming from, youâre just fishing for compliments now,â He shakes his head with a smile on his face.
âNo, Iâm not. Itâs just-,â Your thoughts trail off, but Soonyoung catches your attention again with a gentle hand on your thigh. You donât jump to move it away.
âEverybody was looking at us, but some people looked at us like I wasnât meant to be with you. Is that true? Am I not pretty enough to be with you?â You feel increasingly insecure the more you elaborate. You didnât think youâd feel this upset about it, but it meant your work was failing. You werenât a believable couple and it was obvious to you now.
âY/N, donât say that. Youâre beautiful,â His voice is noticeably softer.
âNot beautiful enough to sleep with. You wouldnât sleep with me,â You rub your eyes with your hands and Soonyoung removes them from your face, laughing at the traces of makeup on the sides of your fingers. It seems like he still caught what you said though when he stops laughing.
âAnd thatâs not the point. Youâre just saying shit now, all of the guys in there would be lucky to even kiss you,â He insists. He stands up suddenly and walks toward your room. You assume he gets up to find makeup wipes, but you sit with his statement in the meantime.
You contemplate if youâd even want to kiss any of the royals who came to the party. You knew your standards were high and wondered if that would chase them off before they even had a chance to kiss you. He comes back and immediately wipes across your face the moment he sits down. His approach is slightly rough, but you couldnât exactly get mad at him. He was just doing what you asked of him.
Heâs analyzing if he got all of the makeup off when you speak up.
âBut youâre not lucky?â You remark quietly.
That makes him clear his throat. You can even spot a hint of blush across his cheeks. It appears that youâve riled him up slightly.
âI am lucky,â He lowers his head to rub the back of his neck with his hand, âYou give me a run for my money.â
âShow me how lucky you are.â You continue to tempt him to see how heâll react.
âI thought you wanted me to behave tonight?â Heâs almost willing to act, but he still waits for your approval.
âI do, but she said we should kiss for practice,â You swallow lightly in anticipation. He rests his forehead against yours and you can hear his breath hitch in his throat.
Youâve been good, youâve been so good all of your life. You donât think youâve done anything worth batting an eye at for your entire adolescence and young adulthood, but it was exhausting.
It was exhausting to be good, the voice of reason, the example of a perfect daughter to your country.
You werenât in love with him, absolutely not.
Yet, the curiosity about what his lips tasted like made you want to be rebellious.
âI didnât think you heard me.â He chuckled softly.
âI did,â You nodded your head against his. Soonyoung didnât ask for permission to be bad, he just did it. Thatâs what runs through your brain when your lips meet his. Neither of you move for a moment and youâre afraid that you messed up.
That is until you feel Soonyoungâs hand cradling the back of your neck. Heâs tilting into the kiss and you know heâs comfortable by the way his tongue slips into your mouth.
He tastes like tequila mostly, but thereâs a hint of sweetness that you suspect comes from the dessert table at the party.
It feels so much better than you expected, now you know why girls couldnât get enough of him. Even if it is just practice, he still took it far more seriously than you expected.
You havenât had many kisses that were worth remembering, but this was something spectacular.
You know heâs kissed people far more times than you have, but thereâs still a hesitant energy there that you canât describe.
Did you make him nervous?
He pulls away first and it surprises you. He takes a deep breath and looks at you with tired eyes.
âJust a practice kiss, right?â He whispers.
âJust practice.â You affirm, pulling your head back. Youâre not sure why it felt so disappointing to not have another kiss. You were sobering up which made the realization even worse.
âIâll leave now before you kick me out.â He stands up from the couch and you donât follow him. He makes it to the door and turns around.
âDonât stay up all night reading thinking you can fight a hangover, go to bed.â He points at you with a teasing finger.
âDonât lecture me, Kwon Soonyoung.â You stand up and walk toward your bedroom, ignoring whatever expression is on his face. You donât look back until you hear the front door shut.
He didnât say goodbye and that was probably for the best. You didnât need any other memory from this part of the night to linger in your brain.
You rush back to the living room to lock the door again and sulk back to your bedroom. You eye the novel on your bedside table, you left it there earlier in the day to pick up whether you ended up drunk from the party or not.
Damn, he was good.
â
There were now multiple days, even weeks, between your shared schedules with him, and the more time that went by after the kiss only made you want to see him again.
Of course, he was friendly to you in public, and you were both able to handle public events with ease, but
the timing left you with many questions, and one stuck out in particular.
Why was he nervous to kiss you?
Today, he requested a private schedule for the two of you before he left Maritria early next week. There was a sneaking suspicion that it was the proposal since there wouldnât be another reason for you to be alone.
He never wants to be left alone with you, itâs all about putting on an act for others that makes it so thrilling for him.
Thatâs what you try to tell yourself, at least.
âYouâre here,â He eyes you carefully as you approach the entrance of the private garden. Heâs surrounded by endless blooms, itâs almost suffocating how romantic itâs supposed to feel.
âIâm here because you want me here,â You offer quietly.
âRight, well I donât want to waste any time. Iâm sure my princess has lots of work to do today.â
On any other day, heâd be right, but the underlying suspicion of his true intentions made you want to linger.
He grabs your hand before you have another second to contemplate your feelings.
âI know that Iâm not the person you wanted this to be from, but thatâs how things have turned out. We both canât get what we want, but I want to make this a good memory for us regardless of the situation.â
He gets down on one knee before asking. âSo, Y/N, will you marry me?â
His hands held a small black velvet box and he quickly opened it to reveal a stunning oval shaped diamond ring. There are definitely more carats than you've ever seen on an engagement ring, and the gold band it sits upon feels equally regal.
It almost makes you sick from how ornate and gaudy it is, but itâs yours.
âYou know this is the part where you say yes,â He clears his throat.
âGive me a second,â You mumble. You canât see his glance, instead choosing to look at the ring. Everything else felt like a game before, but this was real.
He is proposing to you, offering a ring to you to signify a love that wasnât actually real. That kind of sappy affectionate love you dreamed of would never come to fruition, possibly for the rest of your life.
Itâs a realization that is entirely too bleak for the moment.
Youâre meant to be happy, but if your parents were here theyâd pick apart how long it took you to respond.
âYes, Iâll marry you,â You force a smile onto your face to appease him. It doesnât seem like he notices the pained expression within it, only offering a content sigh.
âGreat.â He rises to his feet to place the ring on the appropriate finger. It feels like itâs all over now, you can imagine the rest of your future laid ahead of you on a set path.
The thought of taking constant publicity trips as a couple, having future heirs to the throne, and the idea of bringing him into Maritriaâs lineage makes you wonder if you did everything you could to save yourself.
There is no out, just you, him, and the impenetrable distance between you both.
You wonder how a couple might build a life with an unstable foundation.
âShould we kiss?â His question brings you back to your senses.
âWhat?â
âFor the camera, we should kiss.â He points to a photographer making themselves known from a nearby bush.
You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.
This is your duty, right?
You pull him close and kiss him, trying to ignite the small spark you felt when he was at your apartment.
Yet, the feeling doesnât come and you pull away from him gently after a few moments.
âWe just need some photos for social media and then youâre free to go.â The photographer reassures you with a kind tone.
You snap into professional mode in order to speed up the process. Your hand rests on his chest, angling it slightly to show off the ring. You force a smile, trying to indulge in the fantasy of it all. Once he gets a few shots of that pose, you turn back to look into Soonyoungâs eyes.
He was unfortunately quite handsome, itâs a shame that nothing else about him could make you happy.
âWhat are you thinking about?â His questioning pulls you out of your head once again, but youâre not sure what to tell him.
Being honest with him means making a sweet moment uncomfortable, and lying to him means letting your pain continue to simmer.
You go for the latter, to spare everyone a difficult moment. âNothing. The ring is beautiful,â You shift the conversation with a quiet tone in order to deflect the topic off of you. He smiles widely, his face tells you that he didnât expect you to like it one bit.
âI let my team take the reins with it since I donât know you that well.â He responds so earnestly, and youâre not sure if he understands how hurtful that sounds.
You take it in stride though. âWell, itâs beautiful.â
He only nods and takes a moment to adjust his suit jacket.
You watch him brush over the fabric with his hands, wondering how in the world you ended up here. Even if things were different, fate would probably still bring you into Soonyoungâs orbit in another way.
Regardless, itâs enough to make you even more upset. Once the photographer is satisfied with the variety of shots, youâre about to leave when you feel Soonyoungâs hand touch your shoulder.
âHey.â He turns your body to face him with his hand. Youâre not sure how much longer you can stand in front of him without crying.
âWeâre still on for this weekend, right?â
You canât be bothered to remember what he means, but itâs best just to agree. Itâs not like you had much of a choice.
âYeah. Iâll see you then.â You nod at him before leaving. The moment you turn your back, you canât hold back the stray tears falling onto your cheeks. You can only hope that he canât hear your sniffling.
â
Now that the proposal news was officially out, your life had an even bigger microscope on it than usual. Youâre used to being judged on a public scale, however, there were millions of people who were obsessed with Soonyoung that now wanted to know every single piece of information about his new fiancĂŠe.
Your Instagram posts and tweets had an influx of new activity that you could barely keep up with, and the new attention was starting to work into every corner of your life, even the time you spent with Soonyoung.
âCan you tell your fans to stop making video edits of me?â You stuff your phone into your jacket pocket in slight annoyance. You were genuinely trying to enjoy the private dates you had with Soonyoung, even if they were heavily guarded by staff. It was only right that you treated these outings as the dates they were, opportunities to get to know him better in order to connect with him that would hopefully prevent any issues further down the line.
Today, the location of the date was your choice and the staff had elected to leave you alone in light of the proposal news. Thus, you decide to take Soonyoung to a small beach on the outskirts of Maritriaâs capital city. Youâve spent many days throughout your teenage years in your favorite spot, a cove in a hidden part of the beach. You figured that itâd be smart to let him in on a few things that you enjoyed, namely one of your most treasured spots in the country.
âThat means they like you, and since when are you afraid of attention?â His interest is now piqued as he places his head in his hand to face you.
âSince always, Iâm not exactly a Kwon Soonyoung-level attention whore,â You scoff.
âI think thatâs the nicest thing youâve ever said to me,â He speaks in an exaggerated sad tone, accompanied by his pretending to cry. He turns his head to face you, sunglasses attempting to hide the goofiness peeking through.
âStill, I mean this is all a lot. Iâm not exactly important enough to warrant 700,000 new followers.â You attempt to redirect the conversation.
As soon as the remark leaves your mouth, Soonyoung takes his sunglasses off. He looks at you with a confused glance, as if your self-deprecation was a personal attack on him.
âWhat are you talking about? Youâre a princess and a genuinely nice one at that. Thatâs pretty hard to come by these days,â He compliments you. It pulls at your heartstrings very slightly, enough to absentmindedly check for a blush on your cheeks before snapping out of it.
âYou wouldnât know, you donât see anything past the title before you sleep with these girls,â You attempt to defuse the response again, but heâs prepared.
âFirst of all, those days are behind me. Iâm a proper engaged man now,â His thumb grazes your engagement ring and it sends a chill down your spine.
âAnd second, that statement is funny coming from someone whoâs marrying me for financial stability,â He pokes your shoulder and you move to cover it.
âCorrection, my countryâs financial stability. Youâll have to get used to living here once weâre married,â You clarify.
âWho said weâre living in Maritria?â He argues instantly. You let out a sigh and try to understand the perspective heâs going to bring up.
âSoonyoung, wouldnât it be smart to show how much the countryâs condition would improve with you here?â
âYes, but imagine being in Arinorin. The optics of giving you away to the country that saved yours seem pretty positive to me.â He suggests. While idealistic, the perspective is shortsighted. He didnât necessarily have a shining future back in his home country considering his reputation and lack of communication with his parents.
âEven though youâll never be king?â You didnât mean for the question to sound so mean, but itâs true.
He was not the countryâs future king, not unless there were dire circumstances that would force him into the position.
He scoffs. âWay to rub it in.â He looks into the distance, not acknowledging your glance anymore.
âIâm just saying. At least here, youâll have the chance to have more of the publicâs attention. Thereâs nothing to fight over, itâs just me,â You add sympathetically.
Thereâs a lingering silence that you donât want to fill for the moment. You can tell heâs mulling over your words by the way heâs looking down at his hands, playing with his sunglasses idly.
âYou know, you donât have to stay there. Not to be that person, but if the idea of staying makes you feel worse, then whatâs the point?â You soften your tone in an attempt to bring him back.
âYou donât know what itâs like,â He shakes his head resolutely. You feel your window of opportunity to try and comfort him closing rapidly.
âOk, youâre right, but Iâve kept up with the news. I know a bit about how my future in-laws have treated you. Youâll be okay here,â You place a hand on his shoulder.
âI think theyâve wanted me to leave for a while, honestly. Iâd go somewhere where they donât have to think about me anymore.â He scratches the back of his neck before focusing on a small tidepool that sat directly below the both of you.
His statement is enough to now squeeze his shoulder, gently rubbing it to show your support.
âIâm sorry.â You offer quietly.
âItâs not your fault. I donât think being a problem child fits me very well anymore.â
âYou can reinvent yourself here if that sounds alright with you?â You offer and he laughs quietly.
He smirks. âIâll think about it,â His slightly hopeful tone makes you feel at ease.
Any true affection toward him still feels too foreign, but verbal reassurance is a step youâre willing to take if it means your shared future is relatively peaceful.
â
The trips back and forth to each otherâs countries were becoming a blur of wedding planning, being present at each otherâs public engagements, and trying to get to know each other. It was becoming such a tedious process that any opportunity to rest was taken without hesitation.
The big plan for the current trip to Arinorin was to have a joint dinner with both of your immediate families.
You waited endlessly, but Soonyoung never showed up for dinner. It was embarrassing trying to subtly figure out where he was by going to the bathroom and frantically texting him. When that didnât work, calls went unanswered until you were forced to give up and return to the table in defeat. He wasnât answering and you were left to deal with two confused families on your own, attempting to answer questions that you had no answers to. Dinner eventually proceeded with an unyielding amount of attention on you, but thankfully, the rest of his family seemed to accept you.
Yet, it was ultimately embarrassing to attempt to cover his tracks and defend his actions throughout the night.
Thus, your post-dinner plans were to relax in your room and attempt to forget how wild the night had been. A knock on the door interrupted those plans almost immediately.
You open the door to see one of the guards that have been assigned to you since the arranged marriage proceedings had begun.
âSorry to bother you, princess. Iâve just received word of a disturbance with the prince downstairs that needs your attention.â His tone was especially solemn, so you didnât want to leave him waiting for long.
âAlright, Iâll be ready in a minute.â You nod at him and thank your lucky stars that youâve already changed into more comfortable clothing.
With his assistance, you were soon traveling through the endless halls of the castle to find your fiancĂŠ. It wasnât long before he came into view, sitting on a bench with his legs tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped around the front with his hands clasped tight. He was clearly drunk, sighing to himself before looking up.
âY/N! Hi!â He exclaims, waving at you wildly.
âFucking hell,â You exhale under your breath. Youâre extremely grateful that he wasnât out wandering the streets, clearly under careful watch by his guards.
âCan you give us a moment?â You look around at the surrounding guards. They nod curtly and dismiss themselves, retreating to a nearby room where they could still intervene quickly if needed.
You turn your attention back to him once the door closes. âWhere were you?â
âI was out with Seungkwannie and, um, Seokmin. It was so much fun,â He laughed brightly, eyes almost disappearing from his smile.
âWe were supposed to have dinner with our families. Remember?â You hold onto your curt tone.
He shakes his head immediately. âThey didnât wanna see me, they donât care about me.â
You were starting to lose your patience. While you understood his hesitation to face his family, it wasnât an excuse to leave you to navigate so many different dynamics on your own. This was supposed to show your families all of the efforts that had been made thus far, and there were plenty of efforts that were beginning to show naturally.
He had become more affectionate in public, it was less uncomfortable to smile at him and speak with each other kindly. It wasnât real, obviously not, but unsuspecting eyes wouldnât have known any better.
You were almost visibly in love.
âHow about how I feel, Soonyoung? I had to deal with everyone alone, deal with everything by myself. That was so hard for me, but you just ignored it and got drunk.â Your voice was tight, barely allowing yourself to feel anything besides anger.
âIâm sorry,â He sighs before running through his hair. Heâs affected by it, as his posture starts to wilt like a dying plant.
âYou should be. That hurt my feelings a lot,â You felt the intended venom of your words dissipate on your tongue until nothing was left.
What was the point in yelling when he wouldnât remember any of it anyways?
Honestly, you were disappointed in him. You had earnestly tried to connect with him, and it finally felt like he was trying to do the same thing. Yet, he let you down. You didnât ask for much of him and adjusted your expectations for him at every step of the way, but he couldnât do it.
He couldnât be better for you.
âWas being selfish,â His pout seems to get deeper somehow.
âYeah, you were,â You whisper. You finally take a seat next to him on the bench, taking a deep breath. The silence between the two of you almost felt labored, as if the air held all of the emotions you were both feeling at once.
You shouldnât be babysitting your fiancĂŠ like this, that much was true. If he couldnât even attend a family dinner, what did that mean for the marriage?
âYou donât have to worry about the wedding. Iâll take care of everything,â You mutter quietly.
âWhat?â He sits up in surprise.
âI canât trust you, Soonyoung. You donât care about this and you clearly donât care about me, so why would I let you plan any part of this?â
âI can try, just let me try,â He pleads quietly. You can feel the desperation in his tone, but you canât budge.
âIâve let you try and this is what happens. I donât know if this is how you picture our marriage, but if this is it then consider us strangers. I canât do this, not like this.â You canât look at him as you stand up.
Your body goes into autopilot as you knock on the door where the guards are stationed, letting them out so you can both separate for the night. You gently request for him to be taken home before starting the journey back to your room, wiping away tears that welled up in your eyes without a second thought.
You hear him calling your name, but what point is there in turning around? You didnât have the energy for drunk pleas and broken promises anymore.
If you couldnât stop everything and everyone from falling apart, you could at least try to protect yourself from the wreckage.
â
For the first time, Soonyoung hadnât been able to stop thinking about you.
It never felt good to be ignored by anyone, but getting ignored by you? It had to be a new kind of pain.
Despite his unbothered facade, he didnât mind your company at all. He quite enjoyed your little quirks, small things that other people probably wouldnât notice.
In the chaos of your intertwined schedules, there were moments where heâd just look at you to take in your features for himself, and not anyone else.
He loved seeing how peaceful you looked while you slept during flights or the way your cheeks lifted when you smiled. Since he couldnât have you to himself often, he could hold solace in the smaller moments.
Admittedly, he had been in love with you for a while now, and he could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized it.
He mentioned to you offhandedly that heâd lost a beloved stuffed tiger toy as a kid, but heâd accepted the loss and attempted to move on. He didnât think youâd remember the anecdote, much less do anything about it.
Yet, you handed him a silver gift bag while on a flight with him.
When he unwrapped the tissue paper to the sight of the exact make of the tiger he had, his heart momentarily stilled in awe.
âI found the original manufacturer and they still make them. The certain model you had is a collectorâs item now, so it took a little while to find but it wasnât impossible.â You explained everything calmly, your hand propped your head up on the armrest of your seat. You lazily smiled at him as he admired it in his hands.
âThis is very kind of you, thank you,â He couldnât help the grin that spread across his face.
His parents hadnât thought of trying to replace it for him after all these years, and he surely didnât expect it from you. The gesture is just so romantic, even if you just wanted to write it off as simply a nice thing to do.
He didnât cry until he was alone after the dayâs activities were finished, realizing just how important it was to him. You were so nice, much nicer than he deserved from his future wife given his standoffish behavior.
There was no reason why he couldnât confess his true feelings to you at this point. The wedding was fast approaching, sooner than heâd like to admit.
Details about the ceremony were quickly ironed out between your shared staff before he could think twice about asking, and you held to your word that he wasnât allowed to get involved in wedding planning.
He didnât remember much from the night you found him drunk, but it was clear that wedding planning was off-limits and you were extremely wary of being alone with him. Thus, he had to make his apology meaningful, and he couldnât wait until after the wedding. He was determined to mend the relationship before you walked down the aisle.
He started by sending you various bouquets, all carefully chosen by him.
That was a kind gesture, right?
He thought so until he saw you throwing one of the bouquets into a dumpster from afar.
All of his apologetic texts to you were swiftly ignored as well, forcing him to switch gears completely. It was clear that you were subtly hinting at an in-person apology, which was daunting but not impossible for him to do.
He hadnât been back to your apartment since the night of the Youth Summit Ball, a major oversight on his part. Yet, he figured there was no better time than the present to start taking things more seriously.
He held the bouquet of white and red carnations tightly in his hand, fingers playing gently with the paper wrapping as he sat in his car.
He was optimistic that the rain would hold out until he was hopefully let into your apartment. Yet, he ignored the raindrops periodically hitting his raincoat as he walked up the stairs to your brownstone.
The moment he knocked on the door, it was as if the universe decided to fuck him over. The occasional raindrops turned into a full downpour, and he scrambled to figure out what to do with himself. There wasnât any awning to hide under, so he attempted to conceal the flowers from the rain, unzipping his jacket enough to sit the damp bouquet on his chest before zipping it up again.
It felt like a lifetime before you opened the door, and the sight of you rendered him speechless.
This was the first time in so long that he was facing his fear of resolving the neverending conflicts in his life.
âHi.â He smiles despite your unreadable expression.
âHi,â You were confused, rightfully so. After passive-aggressively sending indirect apologies, he decided to skip everything else and just show up.
âAre you busy?â
âNo, but I donât think I have a choice,â You move to the side so that he can enter your apartment. He takes the cue and makes himself comfortable in the living room.
âThese are for you.â He hands the flowers to you, and the hesitancy is clear on your face.
âYou arenât giving up on the flowers, are you?â You ask with a judgmental tone. He doesnât feel completely deterred when you place them on the dining table instead of throwing them out.
âWell, these are your favorite.â
âThis doesnât bail you out, you know.â You give him a knowing look.
He sighs, steadying his breath before speaking. âI know, and you deserve an apology for everything.â When he notices that you're focusing intently on his words, he feels confident about continuing.
âI know that Iâve made you feel isolated, and Iâm truly sorry for that. I donât want you to feel like youâre alone in this, and I want to make this marriage work. You deserve to marry someone whoâs willing to admit their mistakes and grow with you. Iâm ready to be that person if you want me.â By the time he finishes, he knows that he was completely honest with you. Heâs wanted to be upfront with you for so long, but it wouldnât have been worth it if he didnât express himself properly.
You let out a contemplative sigh. He could tell that you didnât want to reject him, itâs as if your face was processing his statement just as swiftly as your brain.
âAs much as I appreciate this, I donât want to be in a loveless marriage.â You said.
He swallows lightly, but heâs still understanding of your perspective. He knew that he had to lay everything out for you before it was too late.
âWho said it was loveless?â He says.
âWhat?â
The revelation seems to catch you off guard, but it's not surprising to him. Soonyoung is a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and this kind of confession feels completely out of his emotional range.
âI love you, and I should've told you sooner. I regret not proving that you could trust me, and you have every right to not have any faith in me.â He walks toward you, internally pleading that the lack of distance will help you change your mind.
âI do have the right,â You mutter under your breath with a chuckle. He lifts your chin slightly with his finger, forcing your eyes to meet his again.
âI will prove to you every day for the rest of my life that I love you.â His eyes are completely sincere, showing that heâs willing to provide the romance that youâve been grasping for. He can tell that you canât let him in this easily, he has to earn you completely.
âEvery day?â You question him.
âEvery single day,â He reiterates. He means it too, his mind was already thinking of dozens of ways that he could start making it up to you.
âThatâs pretty tempting, honestly.â You tilt your head in curiosity.
âAnything holding you back?â
âI donât think so. You just canât keep coming into my apartment soaking wet anymore,â You scrunch your nose at his appearance and gently tousle his hair, earning a giggle from him.
âThat wasnât planned. It was pretty romantic though, right?â He canât fight the smile that spreads across his face as he asks.
âA little bit. I forgive you, by the way,â You admit.
He exhales and runs a hand through his hair with shaky confidence. He couldnât be certain of your decision, so the relief he feels at your words is palpable.
âDoes that mean I get to see all the spreadsheets about the wedding now?â He knew he was testing his luck by asking, especially because the process had been under lock and key even before restricting his access to wedding-related documents.
âYeah, itâll take some stress off my back. Itâs giving me headaches just thinking about everything coming together,â You rub your forehead and close your eyes for a moment before looking back at him.
âYouâve been stressed like this and you havenât told me?â He frowns.
âI was mad at you, so all my other feelings just kept building up. Iâm sorry,â You shake your head, immediately covering your face with your hands. He pries them off just as quickly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.
âItâs okay, love. I am more than willing to help you, I promise,â He nods eagerly with a grin.
âOkay. I like that name, you know,â You finally crack a smile and his own smile widens.
âFigured you would.â Heâs leaned closer to your face, but thereâs enough space to move away in case you reject him. âCan I kiss you?â He asks gently.
âPlease,â You whisper.
Itâs all he needs to complete the distance between your lips and the feeling of you is almost overwhelmingly beautiful. Heâs so lucky at this moment, feeling your hands push his head deeper into the kiss. He was too cautious last time, but now heâll never take another kiss of yours for granted, not when it feels this good.
He would do anything to make sure you felt loved and cared for, no matter how long it took to earn your full trust.
â
âI just need a moment alone, if thatâs alright?â The question comes out a bit shakier than you imagined, but you canât seem to quiet your nerves. Your wedding day has already taken you on an emotional rollercoaster despite not going down the aisle yet.
As you view yourself in the gown that you meticulously picked out along with the detailed hair and makeup that took hours to complete, nothing looks out of place.
Yet, your heart feels unanchored.
Your relationship with Soonyoung was getting better every day, but it seems like it was all going a little too well. Even though your relationship was transforming from a state of emergency into a promising romance, it was all catching up to you at the moment. Your mutual efforts to improve your relationship had been fruitful, giving you both the confidence to get married without feeling insecure.
You wouldnât regret it, right? You needed to be certain that you wouldnât.
âOf course, Princess.â Your head staff member agrees without question before exiting the room along with a few team members who were assisting you for the past few hours.
Your brain can only think of him. The tradition of spending the night before the wedding apart from each other felt more like torture than anything else, as youâve come to appreciate his comforting presence next to you. In the last few weeks leading up to the wedding, heâs made such a genuine effort to intertwine your lives together that spending time apart felt futile.
A knock on the door breaks you out of your trance. Before you can ask whoâs there, Soonyoungâs voice fills the silence.
âIs it a bad time?â His voice makes your heart flutter before you can even look at him.
âYou canât see me before the wedding, itâs bad luck,â You attempt to fight the smile on your face but you donât allow yourself to look at him.
âEven if my bride has cold feet?â He presses on, his footsteps quietly approaching you.
You turn to reveal yourself to him and his face lights up.
âTheyâre not cold, theyâre lukewarm,â You smile coyly at him. He grabs your hands and scans your body with wondrous eyes, his gaze seeming to land on every detail of the dress before meeting your eyes again.
âYou look so,â His voice trails off. Youâre sure that you can read his mind, heâs practically grinning from ear to ear. It makes you feel a bit shy, you can feel your cheeks heat up from his complimentary words.
âYouâre really inflating my ego here,â You shake your head gently, but the feeling of his hand grazing your cheek pulls your gaze to him. Despite your best efforts, itâs still hard to fight the inner voice that tells you that he doesnât mean it, that heâs only saying it because itâs something you want to hear.
Yet, his responses are just unflinchingly earnest that it makes you wonder why you ever felt that way in the first place.
âYou just look so stunning,â His voice begins to shake before he clears his throat, âI just canât believe that youâre mine.â
You were certain that youâd never seen that much sincerity in his eyes up until now, but it started to quiet the lingering fears that still sat in the pit of your stomach. He was absolutely smitten with you, to the point where his smile didnât go away while you were talking to him.
âYou canât cry yet, you have to save it for the cameras.â You chuckle in an effort to push away his tears, but his eyes were still glossy.
âI canât help it. Youâve worked really hard on all of this and itâs coming together so well,â He sighs with content. Honestly, you needed to hear that it was all worth it, especially from him. Although heâd been offering reassurance more often than not, the sentiment felt different knowing that you were minutes away from getting married.
âI wanna kiss you so badly, but I canât fuck up my makeup.â You pout. He instinctively places his hands on your shoulders, moving them up and down to make you feel grounded with his touch.
âWe can kiss, you know. There are no rules to any of this.â He attempts to get you out of your tradition-focused mindset with a low tone. You do want to indulge him though, considering that this was the first time you'd been alone with him all morning.
âJust go below the mouth.â You nod and he smirks, immediately placing his lips on your jaw to see how youâd react. It pulls a soft moan from your throat, and your reaction encourages him to go down your neck, leaving kisses wherever his lips can find skin. You started to let go of the responsibilities lingering over your head and focus on your fianceâs tongue leaving open-mouth kisses on your cleavage.
Heâs practically doing everything but undressing you and his eagerness makes it harder to pull away, but you have to.
âBabe,â You whisper.
âHmm?â
âLater,â You have to hold onto your resolve or else youâll give in, and you canât let your first time be in a dressing room.
âLater?â His eyes perk up like an excited puppy. The implication of the consummation of your marriage feels daring, it will serve as the reward after dealing with the decadent fanfare of the day.
âYes, later. I promise.â You nod and he somehow looks even happier than before he walked in. He focuses on your lips but leaves a kiss on your cheek instead.
âIâll see you out there, okay?â He presses one last kiss to your palm before heading towards the door.
âOkay,â You wave him off and watch him disappear with a smile on your face.
Itâs clear that you donât have anything to worry about.
â
âYouâre sure that you donât wanna come in with me?â Soonyoung calls from the pool.
âYeah,â You nod with a hand placed above your eyes, acting as a sun visor since you couldnât find a hat to put on.
You were two days into your honeymoon, tucked away at a small island resort that mostly isolated you from the outside world.
The wedding had thankfully gone far better than you could have imagined. He stopped you multiple times throughout the reception to tell you how beautiful it was, how happy he was to be in the moment with you, and how well you planned it all. It was a day that felt sun-soaked, enveloped in a love that was starting to soften and lose the sharp edges that had restrained it before.
Despite all of the kind attention from family and friends throughout the day, it was evened out with the constant presence of staff and castle officials that made it all a bit overwhelming.
Thankfully, the honeymoon began the next day and youâd have to force all responsibilities out of your head for the next week.
âYouâre thinking about something, probably too many things,â He assumes correctly.
You scoff and turn away for a moment before facing him again. âYou canât be this good at analyzing me, weâve only been married for less than a week.â
He laughs before swimming closer to the edge of the pool to meet you. âThatâs my job, angel.â
âBut youâre right, I am thinking too much about you moving in and all the press stuff we have to do,â Youâre rubbing at your temples just thinking about how much effort itâs all going to take.
âHey, look at me.â He calls out softly. You reluctantly place your hands at your sides, trying to take in his words.
âYouâll have plenty of time to worry about this, but this is the only time youâll be on your honeymoon. Hopefully,â He shows his teeth and it succeeds in making you laugh. He smiles back at you before continuing.
âSo maybe we can swim together if youâd like?â He tries again, knowing youâll say yes. You take one last sigh and nod.
âYeah, just give me a second.â You take your coverup off to reveal a solid black bikini he hadnât seen yet. You discard the coverup on a nearby chair before turning to face him.
He eyes you for a moment before you clear your throat. âSlow down, loverboy, weâre supposed to be swimming!â
âJust admiring how beautiful my wife is, thatâs all,â He bites back a smile but ultimately lets it show. You walk down the pool stairs until youâre swimming next to him. He only stares at you for a second before pulling you in for a kiss.
Youâre caught off guard, letting out a small squeak when his tongue slides into your mouth but you give in to the feeling soon enough. You let your fingers card through the back of his hair, pushing yourself further into the kiss. You feel his hands wander across your ass and you let out a moan.
âJust wanted me in here so you could fuck me?â You whisper, finally pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath.
âYou caught me,â He whispers back and proceeds to kiss down your neck, not hesitating to leave marks that force moans out of your throat.
âFor fuckâs sake,â You sigh. You didnât need to have control right now, you didnât want it when he was making you feel this good just by kissing you. You thank your lucky stars that the vacation house is somewhat isolated because you canât pretend to hold back the noises youâre making.
He picks up on this and presses his erection against your thigh, causing you to hold your breath. âWhere do you want me, sweetheart?â He asks quietly. Your train of thought canât even start because heâs staring right at you, brushing his thumb against your lip.
âChairs,â You mutter. He bites his lip and turns to look at the unoccupied beach chairs lined up near the sliding glass door that leads back into the house.
âOkay,â He nods. He leads you back to the pool stairs before taking your hand and helping you out of the water. You both donât think about drying off before he sits you down onto the chair, pulling off your bikini bottom without a second thought. You watch him with spread legs, taking in the sight of his glistening chest and abs. He seemed just as eager as you, taking off his swim trunks in the blink of an eye. The sight of his cock makes your head spin, so you force yourself to make eye contact with him.
âAre you okay, baby?â He asks earnestly. He must not know how hot he is because youâre rendered speechless. His freshly dyed black hair is slightly spiky, and it doesnât help when he runs his hand through it. It all just goes to your clit, and youâre certain that the pressure will make you explode.
âYeah, Iâm good,â You force your mouth into a smile to replace the incredulous look on your face. He nods and settles into the space between your legs, quickly spreading hands across your thighs.
âHave I told you how pretty you look today?â His eyes are practically dripping with lust, but you want to let him know that the feeling is mutual.
âYeah, maybe for the 100th time today, but you look even prettier,â Your compliment comes out a bit shy, but it still makes his eyes light up.
âI donât think thatâs possible,â He lets his thumb graze your clit and you whimper. He lingers there for a few more moments before dragging two fingers down your entrance. He ponders for a moment before pushing inside, and the new sensation makes you cry out. The angled position of the chair makes his movements feel even more powerful, and his fingers gliding against your tight walls already have you in shambles.
âItâs not possible because youâre the prettiest person in the world, and I get all your cute noises to myself, right?â His question makes the coil in your stomach harder to ignore.
âYeah,â You moan. He leans in for a kiss, capturing your lips easily while thrusting his fingers even deeper. How does he know your body like this? Sure, youâve made out a few times but he's never touched you like this before.
Maybe itâs the anticipation thatâs causing him to show out like this, heâs trying to impress you because of how long youâve had to wait for this. You let your arms drape behind his neck for a moment before clutching onto his back.
You hear him moan from the scratches you leave on the expanse of his back, you savor the noises as they start to blend in with your moans.
âGonna cum,â You breathe into his ear. He can tell how tense you are around him, and your eyes are becoming frantic from the impending pleasure.
âJust relax baby, take a deep breath, and let go for me. I know you can do it,â His encouragement lets you cum immediately, arching your back off the chair with a soft grunt escaping your lips. Your orgasm washes over you all at once and his fingers only slow down a bit, allowing you to feel every single bit of pleasure that he could pull out of you.
You take a few deep breaths and focus on his eyes once again. You start to register his face again as he strokes your cheek. âAre you ok? Are you up for more?â He asks hesitantly.
âYeah, I just didnât think youâd get me like this so early, thatâs all.â You cover your eyes with your hands for a moment before looking at him again. He has you so shy that you can barely look at him. Itâs hard to admit to yourself that you havenât cum like that in a very long time, but if heâs making you feel like this so early on into the marriage, you donât think youâll ever be disappointed.
âWell, thatâs good. I just wanna take care of you,â He reassures you sweetly. His eyes are so full of love that it makes your heart pound, swallowing in anticipation.
He meant it when he said heâd take care of you, he had barely let you do anything for yourself since you arrived at the vacation house. It was so adorable that you didnât have the heart to stop him. It was nice to let him live up to his promise of showing his love for you instead of constantly feeling distrustful of his actions.
Of course, there would eventually be moments where youâd disagree or argue with each other, but it wouldnât be out of spite like before. Youâre lost in thought until he presses a kiss to your cheek.
âWhereâd you go, pretty?â He whispers, his face now a few inches away from yours. It somehow makes you even more flustered than before.
âJust thinking about how much I love you,â You admit with a smile. His eyes widen at the confession and you burst into a fit of giggles.
âYou love me?â He asks in surprise.
âI love you.â You state it confidently. You mean it too, and it feels so easy to express it to him. You knew you loved him since the wedding, he cried at the sight of you walking down the aisle and it helped you realize his sincerity. He seems to let the words settle into the air before giving you a response.
âI love you too. It feels good to say that,â He laughs at his own confession. With a mutual confession out in the open, the air somehow feels lighter.
âCan I show you how much I love you by fucking you properly?â He asks. You can only laugh and nod your head at how sweet it is.
âNot out here though. I need you in bed right now!â He exclaims, sweeping you up into a bridal style hold. You let out a scream before bursting into laughter, you can only let yourself get carried back into the house without protest.
----
âFuck, right there, please,â You whimper, eyes screwed shut. The feeling of his cock stuffed inside you was indescribably good, it was nearly enough to make you cry. Once he got you on the bed, he wasted no time filling you up and easily pulled moans out of your throat.
He pressed your legs up to your chest, making sure that he was completely inside of you. You quickly learned that your husband had incredible stamina, and you were definitely gonna cum again sooner rather than later.
âYouâre so good for me, my love. You donât know how many times Iâve thought of having you like this,â He whispers in your ear. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin brought something primal out of you, you just want to suck him inside of your walls even deeper. You were barely holding on, but he kept pushing you even closer to the edge.
He leaned down to leave marks in the crook of your neck, leaving a hand free to fondle your breast. It was as if he combined every possible move just to drive you insane and it was working.
âGonna cum for me, sweetheart?â His voice is laced with something even deeper than lust, it almost felt demonic the way he asked you.
âYes, please let me cum, please,â The words spilled out of your mouth, your voice was shaking along with your body. He was practically rocking you back and forth with the impact of his cock, hitting that particular spot deeper every time.
âGo on, then. Cum for daddy,â He grants you permission. The nickname makes you flood his cock, screaming again as your orgasm takes over you. He pulls out in time for you to squirt on his cock, leaving you even more surprised than before.
âHoly shit,â You whimper. He looks so pleased with himself, but also shocked that he was able to push you that far.
He lets you both recover for a few minutes, but you know he hasnât cum yet. âIâm kinda close, baby, is it alright if I-?â He asks, but you donât let him finish.
âOf course. I already miss your cock, to be honest,â You let yourself smile and his eyes are already blown wide by your response.
âYouâre insane, you know that?â
âYou made me like this,â You hit his arm playfully. He slides his cock into you again slowly and he watches your mouth fall open slightly at the sensation.
âI did,â He smirks at you, relishing the sight of how fucked out you look just from him staying still.
He picks up the pace, trying to focus on getting himself there. It didnât seem like itâd take much just from how intensely he looked at you.
âGonna let me cum inside you, baby? Should I get you pregnant like this?â His questions felt sinful in your ears, but you were too gone to care. You felt pressure building just from that, and the thought of him breeding you felt exciting.
âYes, please, I want it,â You whine. He felt so deep that you could feel it from your head to your toes. Every single part of you felt overwhelmed by his cock and his relentless pace.
âGood girl, daddy wants to fuck you like this all the time,â He moves to kiss you sloppily, but it still feels heavenly to have him in your mouth. It wasnât much longer before you felt his body tense beneath you.
âAre you close?â You ask breathily.
âYeah,â He grunts. He grabs your hips and fucks into you even harder than you remember, the pain radiating from your thighs forces a tear out of your eye but you know itâs helping. He doesnât warn you before he cums, and the sudden warmth inside of you makes you moan louder than you expect. He finally falls beside you and lets you both recover for a few minutes in silence. You could easily fall asleep like this, both of you laying haphazardly under the covers while his breathing steadies your own.
âY/N?â He calls your name and it startles you. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the sound of his voice.
âOh no, I scared you,â His voice is much quieter than before, lulling you back into a state of calmness.
âNo, Iâm okay, I promise,â You turn to face him, rubbing your eyes gently.
âOk good. Weâve gotta clean up now, alright?â He softens the blow of the question by kissing your forehead. It still feels foreign to let him take care of you, but when you see how gentle he is, you donât feel the urge to take control.
Itâs enough to watch him go through your suitcase, observing how his eyebrows furrow while trying to decide what shirt you might want to wear.
You decided that he didnât have to prove anything else to you, ultimately, you could see how pure his heart was, and it would be doing both of you a disservice to let assumptions of character control the course of your relationship.
Youâre attentive enough to follow his cues while heâs dressing you or helping you up to the bathroom, but your mind is consumed by him.
âDoing okay, love?â His question pulls your head toward him. You adjust your posture in bed as he approaches you, climbing into the bed beside you.
âBetter now that youâre back,â You hum lowly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You take a deep breath, taking in the feeling of his skin against yours.
His body vibrates as he chuckles. âIâm glad youâre alright. I was thinking about something while we were in the bathroom,â He leans into your touch slightly, enough to make your eyes flutter shut.
âWhatâs up?â You accept his inquiry.
âI think we should take the kids here one day when theyâre old enough,â He explains it as if itâs fate, and you canât help but smile at the thought of him being certain that your shared future is meant to expand in so many different ways. You canât picture yourself being pregnant for a long while, but the idea of building a family with him feels right to think about.
âWeâve fucked once and youâre thinking about our kids,â You tease him in a lighthearted tone, but you hear his nervous laughter.
âItâs just a thought,â He waves his hand gently.
âItâs a very nice thought, youâre really sweet,â You finally raise your head to look at him. You let your hand caress his cheek before kissing him gently. He accepts you immediately, and you let yourself linger on his lips for a few moments before pulling away to look at him.
He searches your eyes, focused on figuring out what youâre meant to tell him. You canât think of anything profound to tell him, any extravagant sentimentalities you mightâve conjured up donât make their way out onto your lips.
âI love you,â You whisper. Your feelings are buried too deep to let them all out now, but itâs enough to tell him this. You feel the pressure in your chest lessen the moment he smiles back at you.
âI love you so much,â He mumbles the words against your lips before kissing you, love seemed to radiate from his lips the way he was holding you against him. The day unfolded into the evening, time passing languidly as you were enamored with each other.
As you fell asleep with him holding onto your waist, you realized that sweetness had made its way into your life before your very eyes. The limitless potential between the two of you no longer strikes fear into your heart, but instead sustains you in new ways.
There would be time to flesh out the dynamics of your relationship, determining how youâd show up for each other in loud and unspoken ways, but the present feeling of safety that sat in your chest was enough.
Neither of you was perfect, but the act of showing up and being willing to grow with each other was enough.
You are both trying, and that is more than enough.
Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isnât something youâd normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.Â
or the one where jihoon is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and, well, other things.Â
ao3 | m.list | reblog to give woozi a lil kissÂ
minors dni!!Â
WORDCOUNTâ 14k
PAIRINGâ jihoon x afab readerÂ
CONTENTâ strangers to lovers like immediately, long fluffy hair jihoon!!!!, Â you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening.Â
NOTEâ a present for u all because i hit a milestone of 5000 followers!! this was only supposed to be like 5k words but i guess i was in love with him this whole time. anyway, this is not proof read bc i think u guys know by now that im not about that life, so if you find a typoâ donât tell me i will delete everything out of embarrassment.Â
smut tags under cut::Â
smut tagsâ itâs kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jihoon!!!! he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship, unprotected sex (just wrap it guys, im too lazy to write a condom scene), sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to not write smut where he wants to look directly at you, back scratches (sexual)
~
~
Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess itâs part of the job description that most people ignore or arenât privy to actually doing.Â
Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You donât show discomfort though, because itâs not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.
âThereâs twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.â The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips.Â
âIâm fine with my choice, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.â You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.
âAre you sure you donât want any lubricantâŚ?â The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldnât be able to handle it without said lube purchase.Â
The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, itâs actually quite laughable that heâs so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine heâs done this for so long, he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo.Â
With your assumption that he doesnât exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond.
âI think I know what I can take and I already have lube, but thanks.â
He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.
Now, despite Jihoonâs lack of interest toward the purchase of toys he finds it comical that heâs grown numb to the very fact that he knows everyone in this townâs kinks after they step out of the shopâs door. Someoneâs gotta do this job and keep those secrets and he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly.Â
Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. Heâs not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of rosy tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, heâs become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing.Â
Shy as he was when he started, itâs all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains.Â
Shy. Thatâs definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when heâs not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet, timid man who shows up with pans of food for events.Â
The guests seem to love him, and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being.Â
Itâs a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow heâs managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.
~
You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion.Â
He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if youâre really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. Upon your eyes meeting his though, he could tell it was you simply by your furrowed brow as you recognized him.Â
Jihoon couldnât help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, heâs actually shocked it doesnât happen more often. At least itâs you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you werenât shy or nervous in buying the toy from him, because itâs very true that many people feel too vulnerable when buying those kinds of items.Â
His smirk doesnât go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family. And by the time heâs prepared the food and is standing aside to help explain or describe what ingredients the dishes have, youâre walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance.Â
He follows you down the line, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue itâs just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed though.
âDo I know you from somewhere?â You ask, a knowing look telling him that youâre already very aware of that âsomewhereâ you know him from.Â
His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another.Â
âI think you know who I am.â He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a grin.Â
You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.
âThanks, Jihoon. See you around.âÂ
Youâre heading away from the table of food and now toward your saved spot at the table of family that you missed the most. Your same-age cousins, the ones you grew up with and made mud pies for your parents with during summer evenings.Â
âWhat was that about?â One of them leans over to ask, glancing to the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures.Â
âHuh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.âÂ
She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life.Â
~
Okay so youâre trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jihoon? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now heâs here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when youâre alone.Â
His personality seemed different this time too. He wasnât monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks itâs funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.
So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though youâre no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills.Â
âHow many jobs do you have?â You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.
He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didnât notice you walking up. Then heâs smiling again, looking at you up and down.Â
âPlenty. How much lube do you have left?â He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point.Â
You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not be to like about him. Unfortunately, youâre not finding much to take note of.Â
âI canât imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster.â He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that heâs supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. Heâs not supposed to be himself.
You find yourself laughing at his panic though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him.Â
âWhy are you so interested in my âfucking monsterââ dildos anyway?â You narrow your eyes.Â
He pauses, his panic easing after taking note of your easy personality and banter towards him.Â
âI think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.â He checks you out again. âCorrection, they should be worried.âÂ
âYouâre different from before,â you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. âI like this version of you more.âÂ
Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what itâs like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, heâs not one to lie to himself. Youâre pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to discuss this at your own family reunion at least.
âMaybe Iâll see you again sometime then.â He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare down at it.Â
âYeah, maybe you will.â You smile, slapping his hand as if youâre low fiving him.Â
Honestly, he might actually see you within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but itâs not like youâd answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe youâll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale.Â
~
Unfortunately for you, upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesnât start. Your head slamming into the steering wheel with a sigh thatâs probably loud enough for the entire town to hear.
The last thing you need is your father driving you home, because he will lecture you about your car and how itâs got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you spent at your parentâs house? You refuse to ask yourself questions.
Just as you prepare to head back inside, taking the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears.
That savior is none other than Jihoon walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise.Â
âThe battery is dead.â He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield.Â
âSmart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?â
Jihoon shakes his head apologetically.Â
âI already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.â He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door.Â
âIf you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.â
Your eyes plead with him. Youâd prefer this, yes. If heâs willing to help, youâre willing to accept.
âYou sure Iâm too out of the way for you to do that?â
He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but thereâs a scent of something else on him thatâs far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well.Â
âDonât try to turn it on anymore if you donât want your dad coming out.â He laughs. âIâm sure he would help you but if youâd rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.â
Heâs teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but heâs gonna play it off as casually as possible.Â
âIâll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.â
Jihoon nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.
On another note, youâre shocked that your father didnât hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didnât step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock even if he hits the sack at 7pm without even cleaning up the yard.Â
~
âOh, itâs dead dead.â Jihoon looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window.Â
âDefine dead dead.â You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff.Â
âLike, you need a new battery. This one is done for.â
You sigh loudly, knowing that now youâll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Know that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in their driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so itâs not like youâre gonna lose your job over this or anything.Â
Jihoon unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and itâs very much like him to offer more help. Of course it is.Â
âWould it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?âÂ
You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. Youâre not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.
âYouâve worked all day, donât waste your off-time helping me out.â
âIâm already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?â
You stare at him.Â
âOkay.â
The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about his car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.
âWhere did this sticker come from?â You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.
âEx girlfriend, i couldnât get it off without it leaving a residue so Iâm just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.â
âOh, harsh.â You laugh, wanting to prod further. âWhyâd you break up?â
Jihoon pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasnât expecting you to ask that. Then again, heâs said some weird shit to you too, so you figure itâs not an end-all question.Â
âWas that too forward to ask?âÂ
âNot at all, just wasnât expecting it,â He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. âItâs been like a year, so Iâm over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didnât spend enough time with her.â
âOuch, even harsher.â You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. âHer loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.â
He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He canât help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does.Â
âYouâre kind of cute,â You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. âand fun to hang out with.âÂ
âHang out?â He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. âThis is hardly a hang-out, but if youâre interested, Iâm more than willing to check my schedule to see when Iâm free next.â
You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.
âYouâre free right nowâŚâ You comment quietly, glancing at him.Â
âHm?â He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldnât mind hearing you repeat it.
âI said, youâre free right now.â You repeat, this time with more confidence. âWould it be too forward to ask if ââ
âNothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.âÂ
You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.
âDamn, alright,â You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. âIf youâre free right now, we could hang out right now.âÂ
How lucky for both of you. Heâs actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good olâ sex shop in the evening.Â
âAlright,â He nods, glancing over to you. âKind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still havenât gotten a name from you yet though, wouldnât you think?âÂ
Oh fuck, heâs right.Â
âIâm sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Donât be dramatic.â
He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you.Â
âWhere to then, y/n?âÂ
~
If your parents were to ask why youâre walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, youâd have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you donât think you need one. Itâs strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. Not at least without hanging out a few times.Â
You guess itâs not super awkward because itâs true that he already knows things about you that your family doesnât. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when youâre alone. Itâs a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.
The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so itâs only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, youâd invite him in right? You werenât really expecting him to accept your answer to his question.Â
âWhere to then?âÂ
You thought for a moment when he asked that. You donât go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and itâs not like you didnât eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him.Â
âWe could just hang out at my place, Iâve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.â
âSounds good.âÂ
It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isnât swarming your mind at all. Heâs even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot.Â
âThis building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.â
âWasnât always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.â
A little box in his head checks out. He didnât even have to ask if youâre single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over.Â
By the time you get to your door with him, heâs polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote.Â
âI was going to say make yourself comfortable butââ
âWell, would you prefer I sit on your floor?â He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. âWould you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you preferââ
âYouâre so much more talkative when Iâm not trying to buy something from you.â You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine.Â
âSpeaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.â
For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it.Â
âYes, I use it. Iâm surprised you find it shocking considering itâs literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.â
He smiles at that, because youâre damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer heâd have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone.Â
âYou know, no one buys toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.âÂ
âI buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,â You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. âWhy does that matter? Iâm sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.â
He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass.Â
âItâs easy to up-sell when you know peopleâs kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.â
âA true salesman.â You laugh with a pitied voice. âWhat would you say my kink is?â
He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase.Â
âWell, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, Iâd sayââ
âWrong.â You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. âI donât have a kink, I just have a sex drive.â
You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip.Â
âOkay then, What do you think my kink is?â He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again.Â
âWhaââ You narrow your eyes. âHell if I know, you probably donât even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.â
âWrong.â He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.
âAre you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?â
âThree pocket pussies, actually.â
You donât know why youâre shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus.Â
âI bet you named them.â
âPocket 1, Butthole 1, and Jessica.â
âJessca?!âÂ
He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile.Â
You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. Itâs the fact that heâs a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that itâs something he may do from time to time too.Â
You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. Itâs hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think heâs probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable.Â
âIâm lying by the way.â He cuts through your thoughts, âI only have two.âÂ
You nod energetically.Â
âJesse and James.âÂ
âOh my god, how did you know that?âÂ
You narrow your eyes again. Heâs gotta be a fucking nerd to get the reference, even if everyone knows what pokemon is.Â
âSo the pussy is Jesse, and the asshole is James.âÂ
He nods slowly, acting surprised before smirking yet again.Â
âActually, I only have one but Iâve experimented with other things that come through the door. Might as well, right?â
âAnd yet, youâre shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, yâknow.â
Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him.
âNo one buys that as a first time experience.â He shoots back.
âOkay, enough about my dildo, I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but Iâve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.â
He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.
âShoot.â
âDo you guys have like,â you pause, unsure of why youâre even trying to ask. Again, itâs not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, so you usually just buy those things online. âOkay hear me out.â
âTentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?â
âNoâŚâ You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. âI know you have all of that.â
He pauses, unsure of what could be so embarrassing.Â
âDo you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a dude torso with a normal length and girth?â
Jihoon fucking snorts. How mundane. Unfortunately for you though, Nope.Â
âNah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. Weâve got women sex dolls but heâs never really even mentioned just likeâŚa dildo attached to some sort of form that is shaped like a person.â
You shrug.Â
âGuess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,â You pause, realizing that youâre actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? âItâs really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and youâre like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.â
He snorts again, this time unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more.Â
âNoted,â He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. âIâll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women donât get thigh fucked mid-orgasm.â
You glare.Â
âDude, no, because it actually hurt.â
âMaybe you should slow down next time so the full force of yourâŚâ he pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now.Â
âOkay, wait. Iâm sorry, is this conversation too much right now?â You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. âYouâre blushing.â
He tries to play it off.Â
âAs if you could make me blush.â He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. âTo make up for our lack of product though, and if you donât tell anyone, Iâll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself like that just now.â
âOh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?â You counter, laughing along with him as you actually start to look at him.
You noticed that he was handsome before. Normally employees of shops like those are nonchalant normal people, or strange old men who try to impose their kinks onto you. Jihoon though. Jihoon. Hmm, how to explain him?
With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his wide smile and pretty eyes. He may not be the tallest man youâve ever looked at like this but damn is he thick. Like his thighs. Damn, the thighs. Even him now compared to him when he was catering for your family, heâs so much more handsome.
His shoulders are broad, and heâs just⌠You donât even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it werenât for the fact that heâs laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm.Â
âYou know, Jihoon,â You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. âIâm really not usually this forward but like,â
His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell heâs listening.Â
âI know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.â
âYeah, I guess thatâs true. I canât say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.â
You wave him off.Â
âYeah, thatâs a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, umââ You stop for a second.Â
âIs talking about it making you realize that itâs uncomfortable?âÂ
âNo, the opposite actually.â You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. âI keep thinking about you mentioning the other things youâve bought and experimented with.â
âOh? Youâre curious?â He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because heâs pretty sure thatâs you asking him to put images in your head. âI mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.â
You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.
âMaybe next time?â You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed.Â
âThereâs a next time?â He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.
âI donât see why not? Iâm having fun, plus you offered me a discount.â
He nods, looking around the room and checking the time.Â
âI should probably head out then? Weâve both had a long day.âÂ
You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad.Â
âWhen are you free next?â You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. âCan you give me your number?â
He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out.Â
Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasnât reaching full potential.Â
âHey, um,â He stops before he puts his shoes back on. âWould it be too forward to say Iâm not tired and wouldnât mindââ
âStaying for a bit longer?â You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.
He doesnât even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help that fluttering feeling in his chest.
~
It's almost midnight by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence.
âWe should say something.â He blurts, mid episode.
âWhat do you mean?â
He turns toward you.Â
âWe should talk about this.â He motions at the space between the two of you.Â
Youâre silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again.Â
âYou can correct me if youâre not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.â He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.
Youâre taken aback by his forwardness, and instantly you knew he didnât communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, youâve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite book. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a âthank youâ if he were to turn away from it.Â
âOh yeah?â You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. âKiss you, or something?â
He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction.Â
âAre you interested in me like that, in any way?â He asks, looking for confirmation.
âOh, most definitely.â
The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. Itâs an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.
âYou thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?â You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance.Â
âI thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,â He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. âI mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.âÂ
âI can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.âÂ
âMaybe.â
âAre we being too forward?â You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. âEven though youâre in my apartment at one in the morning and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?â
He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. Itâs always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership.Â
You donât think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours heâs huddled up with you on this couch. You simply donât think itâs strange at this point. After all, youâve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange?Â
âYouâre right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that Iâve been imagining what youâve done with that toy since the day you bought it.âÂ
Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course heâs comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now heâs staring at you, and talking directly to you.
Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically.Â
âFound the boundary, got it.â He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. âIâm not lying though.â He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.
âNot much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what youâve done to experiment with your toys.â
âAha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!â He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce.Â
âMaybe, but what do you mean youâve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.â
âOh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.â
You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact youâve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges.Â
âIf I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.âÂ
âYou are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?âÂ
He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you.Â
âYou seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for probably super normal pretend-sex.â
You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesnât budge. In fact, heâs leaning in closer.Â
âNow hold on, you didnât mention anything about one having glitter in it.â You joke, wiggling your brows.Â
âYou trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?â He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice youâre only just realizing you like far too much.Â
âA man.â You respond, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you donât notice how close the two of you have gotten. âWhy else would I go for more human skin tones?â
âFuck if I know, I havenât met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.âÂ
You snort.Â
âShameâŚbut also, why do you think Iâm on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.âÂ
âWas it too much?â He asks seriously, hoping to god it was.Â
âA little bit, yeah.â
âI can imagine you want something to feel real after that.â
For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly youâre just staring at him as you respond.Â
âI can imagine so, yeah.âÂ
He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together.Â
âWhen was the last time you felt something real?â He asks against his better judgment, wondering if youâre on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and youâve yet to do so.Â
âA month and a half.â You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink.Â
He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.
âAre you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?â He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment.Â
âItâs not like we have anything better to do.â You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.
âAre you suggesting that Iâm boring?â He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other.Â
âNot at all.â You adjust your words from earlier, there, just hovering over his lips. âIâm just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.â
Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his.Â
Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would.Â
Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins heâs given you all fucking day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And heâs gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears youâre both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.
The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and nowâŚhis hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.
Itâs slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and canât help but love whatâs happening, and when youâre the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily.Â
That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and youâre not backing down even slightly.Â
âDoes this feel more real for you?â He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile.Â
You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and canât help but smile yet again.Â
âIâll take that as a yes,â He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. âbecause I can imagine that the toy couldnât ki-â
You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss.Â
He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him.Â
âCan you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,â You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. âYou canât just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.â
Youâre joking, he knows it. If anything, youâre complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you.Â
âWas I wrong though? Can it do this for you?âÂ
You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out onto the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you.Â
You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes.Â
âActually, say what you want.â You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.
âWhy the sudden change of heart?â He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to set against your waist, hoping you donât pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in.Â
âI donât know, I was just looking at you and thought it was stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.â
âWhyâs that?â He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him.Â
âAre you trying to argue right now?â You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him.Â
âWould it be so wrong to admit that youâre fun when you argue with me?âÂ
You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jihoon seems to put you in. Itâs too comfortable, and it almost feels as though youâve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet youâre lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal youâre feeling right now.Â
âWill you argue if I ask to show you my room?â You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You donât dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. âMy bed.â
He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.
âHah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.â You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.
He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasnât had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? Thatâs nothing to him. Heâs been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day.Â
Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. Heâs quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.
âUm.â He stops realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. âI mean,â He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. âListen,â
âNo, I get it.â You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesnât know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.
âOf course you do,â He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. âYouâre the one who sat on me like that.â
âPlease, I didnât even sit on it.âÂ
âDidnât need to.â He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room.Â
Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, youâre very quick to turn to face him once he comes inside.Â
âWe are on the same page, right?â You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable.Â
âAs far as I know, with all things considered.â He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change.Â
You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you.Â
âDo you want to see it?â You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table.Â
He had no idea what the fuck you were referring to until he saw it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jihoon tics his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer.Â
You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.
âIf you keep pulling out toys Iâll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, umââ
âReal?â You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him.Â
He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is.Â
âI can admit that men canât vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,â You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. âTheyâre not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. Theyâre also not witty.â
You study his expression.
âThey donât make me laugh before getting me off.â
You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now.Â
Heâs rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys.Â
âTheyâre not attached to you.â You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because itâs a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.
He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind.Â
âBefore we do anything,â he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. âIs this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way Iâm feeling right now?â
You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didnât finish for him this time, actually.Â
âLike, you know if we do this, Iâm going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you donât want me to, right?â
You hadnât thought of anything past him since youâve gotten here. You didnât think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex youâve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. Itâs been so long since youâve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people youâve been with didnât even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like?Â
âAs in, youâd want to see where this goes in theââ
âFuture, yes. Iâm not just going to fuck you and pretend I didnât when I see you again.â
Shockingly, thatâs a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that heâs about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.
âAlright. Letâs not call it a hook up then.â You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that youâll see him again, now being replaced withâŚfeelings? Arousal with feelings?
âWhat should we call it?âÂ
âA date?â You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer.Â
âOh, you fuck on the first date?âÂ
You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you.Â
âWith you? I guess I do.â You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you.Â
âHow did we not meet earlier?â He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.
âFuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.â
âAh, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I donât usually work mornings.â
âGuess I got lucky last time then.â
âI guess you did.â He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that heâs attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before.Â
You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier.Â
There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your shoulder and he tangles his fingers with yours. Itâs all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky.Â
Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you had your lights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died.Â
Itâs so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You canât believe how much youâve smiled and laughed today, and you canât believe heâs making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way.Â
He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing his fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his fringe hangs. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when heâs moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you.Â
Itâs not been since highschool that youâve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. Youâre unsure of how heâs pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, youâre already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when heâs here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason heâs stayed this late already and you already know it wasnât solely to fuck you.
âDid you expect to be on top of me someday?â You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair.Â
âExpect it? No,â He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. âHoped I could, though.âÂ
Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too.Â
You donât say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing alone your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe itâs the pace, or maybe itâs just because you really really like him, and want him to want you.Â
âDo you want to take it off?â You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too.Â
You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesnât move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back.Â
Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks so fucking pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where heâs smiled for you all day at the creases of them. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension.
Youâre staring and youâre not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you canât because heâs trying to pull your shirt over you head.
âIf youâd stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you, yeah?â He laughs, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. âThere.â
He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.
âNow look whoâs staring.â You chuckle, noting that his eyes still donât leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.
âYeah, I am.â He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. âAm I not supposed to?â
Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. Youâre more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.
âYou know,â you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. âIf we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.â
He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.
âThereâs no rush, but if youâd prefer we do,â He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. âI donât mind.â
You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs.Â
Youâre glad he isnât as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesnât look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude.Â
âNo rush?â You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.
âI can try,â He says quietly, balancing on on hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your pussy. âNo promises now, though.â
You laugh, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your laugh off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you canât help but sigh into his kiss.Â
He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again.Â
Itâs not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neckâ Such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldnât care a single bit as long as itâs from you and your hands.Â
He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit.Â
The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isnât yet offering.Â
He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, itâs dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control.Â
His lips continue their work, up until heâs trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your ribs, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.
There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right there before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again.Â
âYouâre wet.â He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses toward you, balancing yet again on his other arm.
Before you can actually respond, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly cupping your entire pussy.
You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.
âObviously.â You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit.Â
âCute too.â He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly.Â
You can feel them stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good though.Â
âAnd youâre teasing me.â You argue, looking away from his playful smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers.Â
âJust ask. Iâm not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.âÂ
You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. Itâs true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want.Â
Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties.Â
âYou want me to ask?â You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally.Â
âNot so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.â
He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again.Â
Itâs not that he doesnât want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and heâd rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?
âIâve neverâŚâ You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. âI havenâtââ
He knows what youâre trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you.Â
âDo you want me to pull your panties to the side?âÂ
You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.
âDo you want me to touch you?âÂ
You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, canât find the confidence to just tell him.Â
He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He canât bare to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, heâd no longer be asking you what you want. Heâd be embarrassing for sure.Â
You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment.Â
His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing his a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.
âHm?â He hums against your lips, and you nod to him.Â
There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.
That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it though, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesnât leave the kiss.
He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on your fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance.Â
âHm?â He hums again, and you nod again.
So, two fingers slide in and youâre releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesnât argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them.Â
You hate to say you didnât pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have you legs shaking.Â
Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows heâs doing it.Â
âKeep doing thatââ you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want.Â
He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and heâs fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And itâs just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warmâŚor alive.
Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you.Â
âIâll do anything you want.â He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster now, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that youâre moaning out now.Â
He tunes in entirely to the sounds youâre making, the faces youâre making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs.Â
You donât notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you doâ
âGod,â You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. âCome here.â
He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.
âNo, I mean, come here.â You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs.Â
He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it.Â
âTake it out?â You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want.Â
Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, heâs not all alone right now, heâs with you, and you intend to be getting him off.Â
You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head.Â
âGrind.â You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.
You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations youâre offering.Â
âYouâre actually fucking perfect.â He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your core.Â
Out of everything heâs ever said to you up to this point, out of everything heâs fucking done to you, thatâs the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fucking fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually.Â
âDonât be stupid,â You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.
He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides.Â
âYou, donât be stupid.â He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.
You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesnât look through you but at you?Â
âYouâre actually insane.â You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist.Â
He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him.Â
Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain âol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check.Â
You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like youâre already having sex but you realize youâre entirely empty still. This is fine though, until itâs not.
When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell heâs focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yetâŚweak grinds?Â
âJihoon,â You say, slightly out of breath.Â
âHm?â He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.
âFuck me.â
Itâs like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen consistently pressing into it. He could have come from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long, but now?Â
He doesnât even say anything, he doesnât even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately.Â
âFuck,â He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. âYouâre throbbing.âÂ
You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until heâs fully planted into and twitching. Then he doesnât move again.
âThis alone could do me in,â He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. âHonestly, I can't believe I didnât already come just from having my fingers in you.â
Youâre both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond heâs talking again.
âYouâre so tight, so wet.â He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. âItâs so hard not to move right now.
âPlease,â You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way heâs talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. âPlease, move.â
And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your literal pussy, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy.Â
It doesnât stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest.Â
Heâs practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. Itâs so fucking much. Itâs so good, and soâŚcomfortable.
Youâre comfortable. So comfortable you donât even feel the need to rub your clit, you donât want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, so does he.Â
When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.
âDonât stop,â he says, despite you barely doing anything. âKeep doing that.â He continues as his thrusts pick up pace.Â
Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men donât want the trace of another woman on him. Jihoon though, heâs in love with seeing remnants of you tomorrow.
Obsessed with the sting of it, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that donât offer you a back to hold onto like this.Â
You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.
When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time heâs focused on kissing you, you think youâre a fucking goner.Â
As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.
âIâm really close,â He whispers apologetically between kisses, âtell me how to get you there with me.â
You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit.Â
Instantly, heâs rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily.Â
Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you go barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You donât even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.
âIâmââÂ
Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.
The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation.Â
And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, youâve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely filly. Jihoon really is something, or, someone.Â
The two of you released together, and his lips fell slack just like yours did. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the otherâs mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.
Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop.Â
Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jihoon is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess.Â
When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.
âWe should clean up.â
~
There wasnât even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didnât even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work.Â
He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for a day at the sex-shop.Â
He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you werenât a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if thatâs because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.
Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.
For some reason, you feel itâs safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.
Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you.Â
summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in your heels and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt
or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong
genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!
warnings: drinking, food, arguing, refusal to acknowledge feelings, two kisses, whatever is going on with Wonwoo, suggestive jokes (courtesy of Wonwoo)
full wc: 38k (varying per chapter)
a/n: i am so so excited to announce that the first chapter will be dropping a week from today, February 14! i haven't decided what (if there will be) specific time so. sorry <3
status: complete!
also special shoutout to @chocolatemilk139 for helping me with the chapter titles :)
want to join the taglist? send an ask or comment!
starâs masterlist
teaser!
1. The Mistake
2. What Happens in the Closet...
3. f=m(a) (Friends Make Anger Issues)
4. The Benefits of Being Stuck in an Enclosed Space (Again)
summary: the most embarrassing moment of your life happens when your crush accidentally hits you in the face with a ball. but maybe there's still a chance for romance somewhere in there
genre: fluff, angst if you squint, non idol au, baseball player!jihoon
warnings: throwing up, food, lmk if i missed anything else
wc: 4.9k
a/n: i had too much fun with that picture of woozi and here we are. also i swear i can write about more than sports I SWEAR
Struck by You (literally) - bonus!
full masterlist
Ultimately itâs a flying ball to the head that finally gets your crush to notice you. Thereâs a dirty joke somewhere in there that you might be able to think of if your head didnât hurt. Youâre laying on the ground when you open your eyes to several concerned faces staring down at you.Â
âOw,â you say, wondering if getting hit in the head had made you dumb too.Â
âOh my god, yn, Iâm so sorry.â You hear him before you see him, though a significant part of that is because you canât really see anything. Your vision wasnât normally this blurry, right? You blinked, trying to focus, and the fuzziness sort of went away, revealing that the others had vanished and it was just Jihoon staring at you. Jihoon. The boy you liked. Staring at you.Â
You realize laying where you had fallen was probably not flattering and try to sit up, only your head spins and you nearly collapse back to the ground, stopped only by an arm sliding behind your back, holding you up.Â
âOkay, slow down,â he says. âI think you have a concussion, so just take it slow.â You nod, gripping his arm for support. A distant voice in your head is freaking out over the fact that the Lee Jihoon is holding you, but itâs drowned out by the ringing in your eyes. You are vaguely aware of the pain driving itâs way from your head through your entire body, making you feel vile from the inside out, churning everything in your stomach and bringing it up, to your throat, to your mouth, and out.Â
It wasnât until you were looking at the throw up, mostly on the sidewalk, that you realized it had come from you. Mostly, because you can see little specks on your sleeve, and the horrible spots that were splattered on the arm that was supporting you. Jihoonâs arm.Â
The worst part about throwing up is that it really does help clear your head a little, just enough to realize that you have thrown up on the boy that you liked. You try to pretend the way your stomach feels now, flipping in all the worst ways, is from the head pain.Â
âAre you okay?â For his part, he seems genuinely worried. You look into his frown and even through the pain and embarrassment your heart canât help but flutter.Â
âDo you think you can stand?â He still hasnât let go, though youâre sitting up on your own now. You nod and let him pull you onto your feet. The dizziness is mostly gone, or so you think, because when you take a step, the world is spinning again and itâs Jihoonâs support that keeps you toppling back to the ground. You wonder when he wiped the throw up away, noticing itâs gone from his sleeve and your own.Â
âIs this okay?,â he asks, sliding one (formerly puke stained) arm around your waist, the other so that you could brace your arm against it.Â
You nod, realizing you havenât said a word to him. If he didnât think you were an idiot before, he definitely did now. You struggle to figure out the best way to form a sentence as he tries to help you walk towards the athletics building, which is when it occurs to you that you donât actually know where youâre going. Jihoon half carries you inside, glancing longingly at the staircase that runs next to the entrance but taking you to the elevator all the way at the end of the hall. Youâre grateful because you are sure that if you attempted the stairs you would end up headfirst down them.Â
The elevator is slow to come. You wait, focusing mostly on Jihoonâs steady arms because it was much better than the pain in your head.Â
âShouldnât you be at practice?â You ask.Â
âItâs fine,â he says. âI was just doing some hitting on my own, and I think giving someone a concussion is a pretty good reason to take a break, especially since you got hit because the net broke. I canât exactly keep going.âÂ
You frown, thinking that you were not a good reason to take a break, but you canât argue too much with him because if he really did leave you, youâre not really sure where youâd go.Â
You find out the reason the elevator took so long to come is because it is maddeningly slow, so old that it creaks and groans as it takes you to the second floor. For a few seconds, youâre scared itâs going to get stuck and youâll be in an elevator with your crush and the crusted puke stains that you put on him. Youâre relieved when it stops and the doors shudder open.Â
âYouâre looking a little better,â he says as you walk down the hall together. Youâre feeling better too, not just from his compliment. Even though you knew he meant it because you could almost walk on your own, you were going to pretend like it was out of kindness anyways.Â
He stopped you at an old wooden door, knocking a couple times before swinging it open and helping you inside, setting you into a chair. You miss how well his arms supported you, something this plastic chair could never compare to. He talks with a woman behind a desk who you vaguely recognize, though youâre not sure from where. You decide the room is more interesting, something like a public restroom with the interior gutted and as many cushioned tables that could be squeezed into such a small place as possible.Â
The woman crouches in front of you and asks you about your dizziness, nausea, if you remember your name is, what school you go to, who Jihoon is. You smile when you answer his name.Â
âItâs a minor concussion,â she declares when the questions are finally over. âYou should get at least a week of rest before you do anything, though your classes will probably need a doctorâs note to confirm it.âÂ
âYouâre a doctor,â Jihoon says. âCanât you do it?âÂ
âNot a doctor yet,â she says with a laugh. âIâve got another year before that. Besides Iâm not sure whether they would accept a note from an athletic doctor when theyâre not an athlete.âÂ
Jihoon shrugs. âIt was worth a try.â He crouches down in front of you. âDo you have someone I can call to come pick you up?âÂ
You groan, wishing you did not live with your brother who knew exactly who your crush was, but you give him the number because more than anything you want your bed. He sits with you as you wait for Soonyoung to show up, talking to you every once in a while âto make sure you donât fall asleep,â even though you know thereâs no chance you can fall asleep with him in front of you.Â
You know Soonyoung is there long before you can see him. He has a way of making his presence known, like shouting from two halls down because heâs never been in the athletics building before and doesnât actually know where you are. Jihoon gets up before you can react and the shouting quiets down soon after. They appear in the doorway not long after, Soonyoung rushing to you and frowning at you.Â
âYou have the stitches of the ball on your head, did you know that?â He peers at my forehead.Â
Great. Not only did you waste his time and throw up on him, you looked like an idiot the entire time. The nice woman who you had decided was not a doctor but some sort of athletic medical professional talks to Soonyoung about how you need to rest for a week but itâs only a minor concussion. You stare at the floor tiles which had probably been a pretty shade of blue once, but had seen too many years of sweaty athletes trampling in and out that no amount of cleaning could ever wash away.Â
âYou still awake?â Jihoon is still sitting in front of you. You avoid his eyes and nod, which is a mistake because youâre still a little dizzy and it makes your headache pound.Â
âWhy?â Soonyoung asks. âDid you do it on purpose?âÂ
âWhat? No, of course not!âÂ
âThen itâs not a big deal.â Soonyoung offers a hand to you, pulling you up. âBelieve me, yn would not hold it against you, especially since itâs you.âÂ
You glare at your older brother but he doesnât notice, squatting on the ground and wiggling his fingers behind his back. âHop on!âÂ
âI can walk just fine,â you say, pushing past him. You think youâre doing a great job on your own but apparently you are swaying and Jihoonâs hand is the only thing that stops you from slamming your head into the wall as he slides it in front of the cement just in time, cushioning your head.Â
âMaybe just take the ride,â Jihoon says, eyebrows raised. He doesnât move his hand until you lean away and wrap your hands around your brother's neck, letting him pick you up. He hasnât carried you like this since you were children, and it feels strange to now be coddled.Â
âSay thank you to Jihoon and the nice doctor,â Soonyoung says and it really does feel like youâre a child again.Â
âThank you,â you mumble. The woman waves from her desk and smiles. You decide you like her.Â
âYou really shouldnât thank me since itâs my fault,â Jihoon says to you.Â
You shake your head. âThank you for taking care of me.âÂ
âBut it was my fault-â
âJust say youâre welcome so we can leave,â Soonyoung says, shifting on his feet.Â
Jihoon stares at the ground but he mumbled, âYouâre welcome.âÂ
âGreat, then I will see you in class,â Soonyoung says to Jihoon. âThank you both for taking care of my little yn!â He strides away and you get one last look at Jihoon and his worried frown before heâs gone from your sight.Â
Soonyoung sniffs as he slowly carries you down the steps. âIt smells sort of likeâŚâ
âLike I threw up?â You say miserably.Â
âYeah! Thatâs the smell!âÂ
âThatâs because I did,â you say.Â
âIn front of Jihoon?âÂ
âOn Jihoon.âÂ
Soonyoung is quiet for a long moment. âSo what are your chances with him now? Still less than zero? At least he knows your name now.âÂ
You sigh, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. âDo you think pain from a concussion could count as an insanity plea?âÂ
âInsanity plea for what?âÂ
âHomicide.âÂ
The worst part about your brother is that he just laughs. âItâs fine yn, there are so many worse ways to meet your crush for the first time.âÂ
âI threw up on him.âÂ
âThereâs a few worse ways to meet your crush for the first time.â Youâre outside now, the sunlight making your head pound even worse. More than anything, you want to be inside where itâs dark and quiet.Â
âI just want to go home right now,â you say and Soonyoung must understand that you arenât in the mood to joke. Heâs quiet as he sets you down in his car, drives you home, and helps you walk into the apartment and into your room. He brings you water but then he leaves you alone, reminding you that you canât fall asleep and heâll check every few minutes to make sure youâre awake.Â
You lay in the relative darkness of your room, staring at the ceiling. You thought it would be better in the quiet, but now that the headache isnât quite so bad, youâre left alone with your thoughts, and the memory of Jihoon frowning down at you.Â
You knew Jihoon because of your brother. They had a class together and you ran into Soonyoung after class one day talking to him. Technically that was the first time you met him, but considering you couldnât figure out how to speak to him, you and Soonyoung decided it didnât count.Â
The crush blossomed from there, sneaking a look at him from afar, tagging along with Soonyoung to one of his games and regretting it because who looks that good in catcher's gear? It had only been a couple weeks since you first saw him, but it seemed for the time being your heart was set on him.Â
At least until you messed everything up.Â
The worst part about a concussion is that thereâs no treatment. The only way to get better is to sit quietly and not strain your brain, meaning no watching movies or listening to music for too long, and even talking was supposed to be limited. You're grateful itâs only a minor concussion and your headache goes away from time to time, but even thinking too hard would bring it back.Â
Combined with overthinking about Jihoon, your headache quickly became a familiar friend.Â
Soonyoung tried to talk to you a few times about him but quickly realized you wanted anything but that. A week passed and the headaches were almost completely gone and you were absolutely sick of laying in bed staring at the ceiling.Â
Itâs the weekend and you finally feel good enough to leave the apartment on your own, walking to the coffee shop and getting a much deserved latte. You even feel nice enough to order Soonyoung a drink, since heâd been waiting on you like you were royalty since the incident. Especially since you were only a year apart, it often felt like you were the older sibling, often shouldering responsibilities that he should take care of. But he hadnât complained once, even though he cooked every single meal for you and had to force you to take a shower after two days of wallowing.Â
You walk up to the apartment, feeling like the drink would be a nice start to saying thank you. Your hands are full, so you knock, knowing that Soonyoung was in the shower when you had left.Â
You donât know what to do when Jihoon answers the door.Â
âOh.â You say, at the same time he says, âHi.â He stands in the doorway until Soonyoung asks whatâs taking so long, face appearing over his shoulder. Jihoon steps to the side and you enter your apartment feeling like an intruder. Soonyoung snags his cup out of your hand as you pass by him.Â
âWeâre working on a project,â he explains. âAnd Jihoon wanted to see if you were okay so I just told him to come here to work on it.â You feel your face flush and you canât look at Jihoon. Youâre glad you had put on actual clothes to go to the cafĂŠ, though it was only a sweater and jeans.Â
âI never said that,â Jihoon mutters. âI just wanted to make sure I didnât accidentally give someone brain damage.âÂ
âSure thing!â Soonyoung claps Jihoon on the back, sitting back down at our dining room table that was actually a concerningly shaky folding table Soonyoung had ârescuedâ from the dumpster. You had started buying the furniture after that.Â
You stood in front of Jihoon for a moment, painfully aware of how awkward it was.Â
âYouâre feeling better?â He finally asks.Â
You nod. âMuch better. I only get a headache if I stare at a screen for too long.âÂ
âThe baseball marks faded,â Soonyoung says. âItâs kind of sad I thought they were funny.âÂ
You glare at Soonyoung but Jihoon is still frowning slightly.Â
âI really am sorry,â he says. âSeriously, I feel terrible.âÂ
You shrug. âItâs not like you meant to do it, you really shouldnât feel bad.âÂ
He stands for a moment longer and you think heâs going to apologize again but he joins Soonyoung at the table, glancing at you once as you lock yourself back in your room and realize that Jihoon was actually in your apartment.Â
You wish it wasnât quite so sunny outside. Though it had been two weeks since your concussion, you were still a little sensitive to lights, and sitting out in the middle of the day in an open field without a cloud in the sky meant that it was very bright. You dig in your backpack and find the treasured pair of sunglasses you had gotten during orientation week when the gardening club was trying to bribe you to join. It had almost worked, until you realized to garden you needed actual plants.Â
You stretch out in the sun, grateful for summerâs last push. The warmth of the sun was a comfort to the butterflies flipping in my stomach. I used my sunglasses to peek at Jihoon in the dugout. He was leaning against the fence that protected the players from foul balls, arms folded on the railing.Â
Heâs chatting with a couple teammates, a lithe boy that you are pretty sure is the pitcher and a tall boy that you think plays first. The latter is trying to catch sunflower seeds in his mouth by tossing them in the air, but completely misses and on his third attempt, he trips and drops the bag, spilling them all over the ground. You smile as Jihoonâs laugh carries all the way to where you sit. He turns and for a second you make eye contact with him, though you quickly turn away and pretend like youâve been watching the person at bat the entire time.Â
This baseball game would have been incredibly boring if you werenât too busy stealing glances at Jihoon, which you know because Soonyoung has completely given up on pretending like he was paying attention, snoozing in the seat beside you. You couldnât blame him, because it wasnât even like the game was interesting. They were winning by so much you were surprised it hadnât ended early. You elbowed him when Jihoon came up to bat, since technically he came to see Jihoon and you just happened to tag along.Â
Jihoon played well. Or not, you really wouldnât know. But he hit the ball and made it on base, which you were at least 80% sure was a good thing. Maybe 75% The game finishes and they win, and you are ready to leave but Soonyoung hangs around, clearly waiting for Jihoon.Â
You think running away is the best option, but itâs too late because Jihoon is waving at Soonyoung and heâs dragging you over to him. You wish youâd lied when he asked if you liked him but thereâs no going back now.Â
âGreat game!â Soonyoung said.Â
âHow would you know, you were sleeping.âÂ
âI was listening! Plus yn woke me up every time you did something so I basically watched it,â he says. âIâm going to ask you to never invite me to a game again.âÂ
âYou didnât have to come,â Jihoon mutters. He glances at you and you think heâs about to ask a question, but the moment passes.Â
âSo, I was thinking that you would probably be hungry.â He waits for Jihoon to nod before continuing. âPerfect, because we just spent three hours extremely bored and that works up an appetite, right, yn?âÂ
âSure.â You answer slowly, suspicious of what he is planning.Â
âPerfect, we can get food together!â Before you or Jihoon can say anything, Soonyoung is telling him where the diner is and youâre being tugged into the car.Â
The ride is uncharacteristically quiet as you pull into the diner. You know something is wrong when Soonyoung pulls into the parking spot but doesnât turn the engine off. He stretches and fakes a yawn.Â
âYou know, Iâm really tired, I think Iâm just going to head home,â he says. âBut you go and eat with Jihoon.âÂ
âYou just took a nap,â you say.Â
âDo you want me to keep pretending or should I yell at you for wasting the perfect opportunity I just gave you?âÂ
âWhat opportunity? To sit with Jihoon and listen to him apologize again because he only knows me as the person who he almost killed and then threw up on him?âÂ
âHey, maybe you can get him to pay for your meal. Hey- wait- ow!â He shields his face from your hand, turning so that you smack his shoulder.Â
âCanât you be serious for once?â You ask.Â
âI am serious, this is good for you,â he says. âYou like him, you should see if you actually want anything to happen. And the perfect way to do that is to spend some alone time with him. Think of it like a pre-date.âÂ
âThat is not a thing,â you mutter.Â
âWell, Iâm not getting out with you and Iâm not going to drive home with you in the car, and you have, like, maybe two minutes until Jihoon gets here and if Iâm still here Iâll have no choice to explain why I canât eat with you two.â He raises his eyebrows as you hesitate a moment longer.Â
You sigh and open the door, stepping out. You pause before you shut the door, asking, âHow am I supposed to get back?âÂ
He smiles and shrugs. âAsk Jihoon for a ride.âÂ
Youâre tempted to commit a crime but Jihoon pulls in and you shut the door as quickly as possible, frowning as Soonyoungâs car disappears around a corner.Â
âWas that Soonyoung?â Jihoon asks, stepping out of his car. Heâs changed into a T-shirt and shorts, though heâs still wearing a baseball hat.Â
âHe said he was âtired,ââ you say.Â
âDidnât he nap at the game?âÂ
You shrug. âThatâs what I said. He sort of just kicked me out of his car and left? Iâm actually not sure what just happened.âÂ
âWell, are you hungry?â Jihoon asks, cocking his head toward the diner entrance. You hesitate for a moment, but in the end you say yes and follow him inside.Â
The menu would be a lot easier to read if you werenât sneaking glances at Jihoon from over the top of it. You stop when he catches you, dedicating yourself to studying it until a waiter comes and asks whether youâre ready to order.Â
Despite staring at the menu in silence for the past five minutes, you still have no idea what is on it, so you just point at the first thing you see. You smile at the waiter because itâs so much easier to bear his gaze than Jihoonâs, but he leaves to put in your order, taking the menus with him and leaving you nowhere to hide.Â
âHow long have you played baseball?â You ask because itâs the only thing you can think of. Â
âI donât know, at least ten years,â he says. âIâve played since I was a child.âÂ
You nod, realizing this was a terrible topic because you really donât know that much about baseball. âHow is the team?âÂ
âThatâs a complicated question.â Jihoon laughs. âAs a team? Great, we play well together, weâve won a lot, itâs great.âÂ
âNot as a team?â You ask.Â
âI say this with⌠okay, you canât tell them- well actually I guess you could but theyâd never believe you, I do-â he makes a face of disgust, continuing, âlike them but I swear Iâve never wanted to murder more of my teammates at once. Do you know how much crap I got for accidentally hitting you? They made it sound like you were on your deathbed, Seungcheol was telling me to write an apology letter.â Though he is serious about the rant, you can see the smile lurking on his face, a hint of good humor in his eyes. It made me smile, even though I didnât know any of the boys.Â
âSeriously, Iâve aged ten years playing with them,â he says. âOne time Mingyu did laundry the night before a game and washed all of our jerseys and it was very nice of him, but there was a red sock in there and our white home jerseys were all pink. Our coach almost quit on the spot and we almost got in trouble for wearing the same color as the other team.â He shudders at the memory. âWhat about you? Have you played any sports?âÂ
âNot really, unless you count one year of soccer that I begged my parents to let me quit. Soonyoung drags me to some professional games when his friends donât go, which is fun,â you say. âExcept baseball, we both agree itâs boring.â He frowns at that. âSorry,â you add, âItâs just really long.âÂ
He sighs, just a tad overdramatic. âItâs okay, everyone says that.âÂ
âI had to be honest!â you say. âIâm sorry!âÂ
âSo you didnât have fun today?â He asks, peeking around the corner to see if the waiter carrying food was ours. You forget his question for a moment when the food is put in front of you, your stomach growling. You glance at him and realize heâs still waiting for an answer.Â
âNo, today was fun,â you say. You manage to meet his eyes for a second before turning back to your food. You are both quiet as you start to eat, agreeing that the food is delicious. Though you donât speak much, you canât seem to stop smiling, peeking at him more than once, and even catching him doing the same. Once the food is gone, you canât seem to remember what it tasted like, but you believe there is no way the food could have been terrible when your face hurts from smiling so much.Â
Jihoon grabs the bill before the waiter can set it on the table. âI think I owe you for almost killing you.âÂ
âThatâs an exaggeration,â you say. âAnd I did kind of throw up on you. Which Iâve been avoiding, but I am really, really sorry about.âÂ
He shakes his head immediately. âI literally almost killed you, I canât blame you for that. You have nothing to apologize for.â He waits for me to meet his eyes and then holds my gaze, and for once I donât run away from him. âBut I do, so Iâm paying today.âÂ
You want to fight more but his eyes are telling you no and you find it hard to stay strong under his gaze. You walk out, Jihoon at your side, and realize Soonyoung has still left you car-less. Your only hope was Jihoon, but as you walked through the doors, the words got stuck in your throat. You pause at the edge of the sidewalk as Jihoon walks to his car.Â
âSoonyoung left you, right?â He says. He turns to see you standing a few steps behind. âI can take you back.â You realize you had been holding your breath as you follow him to his car, feeling rather dazed as you open the door and sit in his car.Â
He has terrible taste in music, you think as you lay back in the seat and watch the trees whizz past. It was too much that he was hot (broad shoulders, biceps, legs, face, the list goes on), smart (I learned that overhearing him and Soonyoung argue about their project), an incredible athlete (see: playing college baseball), having good taste in music would just be unfair.Â
You have been scared of your crush until now, watching the sun paint the sky in orange and gold as it inches closer to the horizon. When your crush first started you felt terrified to be around him, you couldnât imagine being next to him, let alone speaking to him. Riding in the car with him now, listening to him softly sing along to the lyrics of the third Bruno Mars song in a row, you think maybe having a crush isnât too bad.Â
You reach your apartment too quickly. You unbuckle your seatbelt when he stops the car but you pause before opening the door.Â
âI had fun today,â you say. âThe game and with you.â Youâre ready to run now, but he places his hand on your arm.Â
âHang on,â he says. You notice his ears are a little pink. âOkay, I donât really know how to say this.â He realizes his hand is still on your arm and pulls it back. âI like you.âÂ
You stare at him, waiting for him to laugh and say it was a joke, or take it back.Â
âYou⌠what?âÂ
âI like you,â he says again, staring at the steering wheel. âI thought I did before, and after today Iâm sure. I like you.âÂ
You stare at him a second longer, knowing that you were supposed to say something but all you could hear was âI like you.âÂ
âI like you,â you finally blurt out. âA lot.â He smiles and everything feels a little easier.Â
âThatâs nice,â he says. You sit with him for a moment longer, thinking if you left the car the bubble of happiness building in your chest and protecting you from everything that might hurt would burst. Eventually you open the door, turning around to steal one more glance at him.Â
âDo you want to do this again?â You ask.Â
âWhenever you want,â he says immediately. âThough, I do have practice and games and classes,â he adds after a moment. You smile as you close the door, walking back to your building. You pause at the door, turning around and waving at him, your heart flipping when he waves back. You walk inside as though you are floating, leaning against the handle of the elevator and finding yourself still smiling.Â
He likes you. And you like him. That is all you need.
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â Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. Itâs been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn.Â
â Word Count: 11,315
â Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff
â Type: SmutÂ
â Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
â Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. Theyâre both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice. Alternating POVs and some time skips.Â
â A/N: This is another work coming from a conversation with @daechwitatamic who at this point, I think had been the driving force behind all three random one shots Iâve written. I apparently canât say no when she asks for something :) so anyway, here is simp Lee Chan and simp reader because ???? And yes I'm posting this at 11:30 pm at night who cares there are no rules!!!!!!!!
â A/N 2: Also thank you to Jo for reading this before hand because it would be otherwise largely illegible. King Julian is on the way, bestie. Â
â Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
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âSo why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isnât?â Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. âAlso, the title sounds gross.â
âGood thing it has nothing to do with you then.âÂ
âWow, youâre not even going to invite me?âÂ
âNo,â you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. âItâs for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.âÂ
âIsnât that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two arenât dating?âÂ
The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isnât the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it wonât be the last. You donât want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match.Â
If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But youâre not, and youâve already gotten over the fact that youâre not dating and that you will not start dating.
Mostly.Â
The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like heâs been manifested by Mingyuâs dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him.Â
Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyuâs accusatory stare.
âThese are so good,â Chan says around a mouthful of fries. âThanks, Bambi.â
You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard.Â
âI wouldnât know,â Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. âApparently Iâm not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.â
âOrder your own fries,â Chan says.Â
âUgh. I already ate mine.â
âSo order more, idiot. And of course youâre not invited to Blood and Popcorn. Thatâs our thing.âÂ
Our thing.Â
The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesnât notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming sheâll put in his usual now that heâs there.Â
There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year thereâs not as much of a need to study and youâve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories.Â
You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn.Â
Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away.Â
Behind you, Chanâs arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasnât there in the first place.Â
The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chanâs soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm.Â
When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.
âCareful, Bambi,â he murmurs. âTheyâre literally steaming.âÂ
Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chanâs steak knife. âDonât even think about it.â
âBut she-â
âBambi has special privileges,â Chan quips. âOrder yourself some more fries for the love of God. Iâll pay for them.âÂ
Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, âWhy were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?âÂ
âShua asked Bambi out on a date,â Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. âShe told him she couldnât go because of Blood and Popcorn.â
Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin.Â
âHe didnât ask me out on a date.â
âHe asked you to dinner!â
âAs friends!â
âOh yeah,â Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. âFriends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.âÂ
For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasnât a date.
Chan beats you to breaking the silence, âWe can skip this Friday so you can go!â
You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. âWhat?â
âItâs totally fine if we have to skip. I donât mind.âÂ
Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you canât help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesnât mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care.Â
The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after heâs said the words, sawing down to the bone.Â
âI wasnât aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.âÂ
âI mean if youâve got a date.âÂ
Thatâs not the point, you want to scream at him.Â
Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isnât one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, heâs remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe.Â
Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - youâve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isnât mutual.Â
It isnât mutual here. Itâs always been very clear where Chanâs interests lie, and youâre totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, itâs alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so.Â
So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isnât because he doesnât care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesnât occur to him that the real reason you donât want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you donât want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because itâs for the two of you and no one else.Â
âYeah,â you rasp, unsure what else to say. âUm, maybe.âÂ
âShua is a good guy.âÂ
âYeah. Yeah he is.âÂ
Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what theyâre saying.Â
Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s.Â
Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but donât know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years.Â
You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day youâd met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience.Â
He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home.Â
Wanna start coming here after class?Â
You did. And you had.Â
A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chanâs face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as heâs aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim.Â
âWhat?â you ask him, totally at a loss for words.Â
He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. âI asked if you were ready to go.âÂ
You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. âI think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?â
He snorts. âNever fear, itâs my card. Everything okay?âÂ
You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you donât want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-
Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. âOf course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.âÂ
âYou know Iâve got you.â He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. âAlways.âÂ
-
Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out.Â
âYes, that is healthy,â Seungkwan calls from Chanâs desk against the window. âLet the pillow know everything that youâre feeling.âÂ
Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chanâs laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath.Â
âWhy are you in here again?â
âMy literature professor is a dinosaur,â Seungkwan answers. âAnd only accepts printed essay submissions.â
âSeriously?â
âYes.â
âNo, I mean you donât have your own printer?âÂ
âNo, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.âÂ
âThatâs like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?â
âAsk the dude who wrote Beowulf.âÂ
âIsnât that like⌠a movie?âÂ
Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it.Â
âSpeaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambiâs?âÂ
Chan canât help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when youâd called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then.Â
Despite your quiet disposition, youâve always been the epitome of bravery. He canât recall a time that you havenât said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you.Â
For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And youâve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets.Â
Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back.Â
âIâm not really sure,â Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. âWe might not be doing it.â
âUh-oh. Trouble in paradise?â
âThere is no paradise. Weâre just friends.âÂ
âThatâs the trouble Iâm talking about, brother.â Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. âIs the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?âÂ
âI donât know that itâs canceled.âÂ
âThat really clarifies the issue.â
Chan scowls. âDid you know Shua was into her?âÂ
âUh, yeah.â
âHe asked her on a date.â
âJoshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you werenât going to.âÂ
Chan frowns and sits up. He didnât realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten.Â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means,â Seungkwan clarifies. âThat you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you havenât. If youâre not going to do it, someone else might as well.âÂ
âI mean, anyone could ask her out. Itâs not like I have-â
âDonât you dare say you didnât have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. Youâve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and donât respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.âÂ
âItâs that obvious?âÂ
âNot to her, clearly.â Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. âFortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.âÂ
Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesnât like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you donât know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend.Â
âWell, she doesnât feel that way about me. Iâm not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldnât be fair.âÂ
Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. âLike I said. Match made in heaven.âÂ
Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, heâs let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it.Â
The window of opportunity is gone.Â
Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when youâre interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. Youâve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but itâs different.Â
If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, heâd have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must.Â
The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic heâd felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.
Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesnât get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. Youâd be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, youâd be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place.Â
No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long.Â
Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chanâs mild state of distress.Â
Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach.Â
The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him.Â
He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground.Â
-
Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isnât awful at all. Itâs just that heâs leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod.Â
Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chanâs direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where youâre laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-
âYa! Donât just let it pool at your feet!â
Jeonghanâs screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor.Â
The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner.Â
Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. âJeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.â
âThen you should have no problem cleaning it!âÂ
âSure, Mom.âÂ
âDonât call me that!â
He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.
Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink.Â
âWell, thatâs one way to stop from spilling.â Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. âYou do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonightâs thirst?âÂ
âNope.â
âRight, so itâs not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?â
Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. âNope. And Joshua isnât even that tall.âÂ
âTaller than you.â Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. âYou look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.â Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. âJust tell her you like her.âÂ
âWhy is that the only advice any of you have?â
âBecause itâs the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.âÂ
âAnd Iâve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. Itâs not her burden to bear.âÂ
Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room.Â
âAlright,â Jeognhan relents. âThen deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.âÂ
And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to.Â
-
âWhat?â you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didnât know. He was leaning awfully close. âI didnât catch that.âÂ
Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. Heâs kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs?Â
Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.
Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshuaâs question again. âDid you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?âÂ
Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but youâd declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back.Â
The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, âI really canât. Friday nights are really important to me.âÂ
Joshua looks disappointed, but heâs polite enough to nod and smile. âI understand. Maybe a different night?â
âUm, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.âÂ
You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because youâre a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl.Â
âDo you want me to-â
âNo!â You quip, shaking your head. âTotally fine, Iâm so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!âÂ
Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you donât turn around, eager to get out of the room.Â
You trip over someoneâs foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet.Â
âWhat is it with you and your other half?â You look up to realize that itâs Jeonghan who stabilized you. âSpilling drinks all over my damn floor!â
âIt probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.â
âYa! Thatâs beside the point - why do you look like youâre about to die?â
âI feel like I might. I need fresh air.â For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. Itâs usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. âNot him,â you whisper. âIâm fine.âÂ
Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction youâd last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall.Â
There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghanâs gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. âFresh air it is.â
âYou donât have to come.â
âI donât know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.â
Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute.Â
The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghanâs backyard. Itâs not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment communityâs lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade.Â
Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence.Â
Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - youâd always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-
âI did it to myself, huh?â you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. âI could have just told him a while ago.âÂ
âWell, I donât think youâre entirely responsible,â Jeonghan mutters. âLook, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when itâs to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You canât cling to unspoken feelings, though.â
âI just⌠I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I donât want to ruin what we have.â
âThen get over him.â You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. âIf youâre unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.âÂ
âDo you think he would⌠react poorly?â
âOf course not, but I will not speak to all of Chanâs feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on oneâs own.â
âYou sound so⌠saintly.â
âDealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what itâs like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take âdoor openâ a little too seriously.â
You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. âYouâre right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I canât just⌠suffer.â
âIf only youâd come to that conclusion a while ago.â
âBleh.âÂ
Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghanâs words weigh down on you. You know that heâs right. Though youâre confident that Chan doesnât return your feelings, you donât explicitly know because youâve never asked. And if you never ask, youâll never know.Â
Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then.Â
Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. âAlright,â you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. âThanks, Mom.âÂ
âUgh, you two! Donât call me that!â
-
Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. Youâve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You havenât spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but thatâs not unusual.Â
The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. Itâs such a simple thing - you donât need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky.Â
Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-
Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chanâs name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer.Â
âHi!â
âDonât kill me,â Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head.Â
âWhy would I do that?âÂ
âI have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.â
âOh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-â
Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know heâs sitting on his bed. He has the worldâs creakiest bed. âIâm not sick.â
âOh.âÂ
You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. Thereâs nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, âWhatâs up?âÂ
âI have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. Sheâs in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.âÂ
It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but donât feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable.Â
A date. Chan has a date. That heâs willing to cancel your night for.Â
You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed.Â
âBambi?â Chanâs voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. âYou there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.âÂ
âIâm here.âÂ
âOh good. Sorry to miss, please donât kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?â
âYeah. Uh. Yeah.âÂ
Thereâs a pause. âAre you okay?â
âDefinitely.â Lie. âSorry, I just woke up from a nap and Iâm a little spacy.â Lie. âNo problems here. Iâm not mad. Enjoy your date.â Lie.Â
âThanks, Iâll let you know how it goes after!âÂ
âFor sure.âÂ
When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame.Â
-
Chan canât do this.Â
Sol isnât the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and sheâs sensible. And sheâs into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all.Â
But she isnât you. Solâs biggest problem is that sheâs not you, and itâs not really her problem at all. It is Chanâs and Chanâs alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. Heâs tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if youâre watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if youâre in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast.Â
Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. Heâd rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment.Â
From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all heâs felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-
âAre you okay?â Solâs raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. Sheâs leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. âYou zoned out.â
âI apologize, that was rude of me.â
âIt was,â she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. âI wonât be offended if you want to call this off early.âÂ
âWhat?â
âYouâre not interested,â she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. âItâs totally okay if itâs not working for you.âÂ
Heat crawls up the side of Chanâs neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. âI am so sorry,â he says earnestly. âThis sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isnât you.â
âNo offense, but I know. Youâve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.âÂ
âThat easy to read, huh?â
âOpen book. I have some pride, though. Letâs pay the bill?â
âIâm sorry.â
Her grin is polite. Understanding. âDonât be. Youâre cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isnât on me.âÂ
âUnderstandable.âÂ
Chan knows heâs lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but sheâs good people.Â
âPromise me one thing?â Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. âItâll help my pride.â
âSure.â
âGo spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. Itâll be worth it, that way.â
Chan grins. âAlright. I promise.â
And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone.Â
Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you donât pick up, he ends the call.Â
Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and heâs decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isnât you and pretend that he isnât wondering what youâre doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone elseâs mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours.Â
The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghanâs party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart.Â
Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now.Â
Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has.Â
Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming youâre still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.
âYouâve got this, Lee Chan,â he tells himself. âYouâve got this.âÂ
-
A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chanâs sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person.Â
Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, theyâve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing.Â
Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except-Â
âChan?âÂ
It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that youâre complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow.Â
Chan looks⌠beautiful. Youâre suddenly very aware that youâre in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â
âWhy are you crying?âÂ
Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch.Â
He notices. âWhy are you crying?â he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. âTalk to me.âÂ
You swallow thickly, realizing youâre at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.
A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again.Â
âYou canceled Blood and Popcorn.âÂ
Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. âI donât understand.â
âYou canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.âÂ
âI-âÂ
A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe.Â
âOh, Bambi.âÂ
âYou can date whoever you want, youâre not mine,â you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. âBut it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know weâre friends, but-â
âBambi,â he says gently. Youâre not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. Heâs begging you to stop, you think, but if you donât get this out now you never will.Â
âBlood and Popcorn is important to me. Youâre important to me. I know youâve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-â
Chan interrupts you again. This time though, itâs by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you canât pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.
For a second, your brain goes static. Youâre so stunned you donât do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning.Â
Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time.Â
The box youâve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip.Â
Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes.Â
âThe date didnât work out because I kept thinking of you,â he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. âIt was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-â
You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth.Â
âI just want you,â Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. âI have for so long and Iâve been so afraid to tell you.â
âI was afraid too.âÂ
âI have wasted so much time.â His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him.Â
Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything youâve buried down for years.Â
âI want to make up for it,â you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. âI was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.â
âWhat a stupid man I am.â
You smirk a little. âYes.âÂ
âLet me apologize,â he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. âIâll make it up to you.âÂ
âOh?âÂ
The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chanâs full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You canât help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.
âFirst step of apologizing,â you wheeze under him. âGive her a concussion.âÂ
âIâm sorry,â he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. âIâm a little eager.âÂ
His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. âItâs okay,â you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. âItâs cute.â
Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you.Â
âYouâre cute,â he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. âYouâre in my clothes.â
âI wear them all the time.â
He groans. âI know. Fuck I know.â
âIs that what does it for you?â You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. âMe in your clothes?â
âEverything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.âÂ
âI really didnât know.â
He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. âEveryone else did,â he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. âBiting. Got it.âÂ
With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take.Â
You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.
The light from your hall glows behind Chan, haloing him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence.Â
Golden boy, so full of fire. Itâs all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him.Â
âKiss me,â you beg.Â
He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze.Â
âTake this off for me,â he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. âPlease.â
You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again.Â
It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you canât help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.
âFuck,â he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. âIf you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.âÂ
âChan.âÂ
âDonât,â he laughs, biting your shoulder. âI want this so bad.âÂ
âI want you.â
âI might pass out due to sheer joy.âÂ
âI have some ideas on how to revive you.âÂ
He lets out a swear and you laugh. âYouâre going to be the death of me.âÂ
âMaybe.âÂ
Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. Youâd die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chanâs tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple.Â
You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm.Â
Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast.Â
The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. âKeep going.â His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. âI like seeing you worked up.âÂ
âGod,â you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but itâs not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. âWho knew you were so⌠this.âÂ
You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath.Â
Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because itâs Chan. Your Chan.Â
Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut.Â
Youâd always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking.Â
âHmm.â He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. âThis for me?â You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. âFuck.âÂ
And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him.Â
Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving.Â
Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break.Â
He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently.Â
âI am going to die,â you gasp between ragged breaths. âYour fucking mouth.âÂ
âYeah? Feels good?â The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know youâre going to snap any moment. âTaste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.âÂ
âFuck, Chan. Iâm gonna come.âÂ
He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. âGood.âÂ
âLike that.â
âYeah?â he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. âMmm.âÂ
Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you.Â
You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly.Â
A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chanâs grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesnât seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.
âChan,â you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. âKiss me.âÂ
He doesnât hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You donât care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you.Â
One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy.Â
âDonât,â he begs. âI will cum right now.âÂ
âOh?âÂ
âIâm so serious, I almost came untouched.â
âWow, I really do it for you, huh?âÂ
âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted to do that.â His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. âI cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.âÂ
âDonât care.â You undo his belt, pulling. âWant it. Want you. Please donât make me wait.âÂ
He curses. âI can deny you nothing.â He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. âYou like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?âÂ
âYouâre not the only one whipped.â He looks at you, doubtful. âYou think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. Thatâs something only you can do.âÂ
âGot it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?âÂ
You donât answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again.Â
âHmm?â he asks, noticing you're distracted. âEverything okay?âÂ
âYou have a nice dick,â you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. âThank you is the proper response to a compliment.âÂ
He bursts into laughter and you canât help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. âDonât hide from me, wanna see you,â he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. âAnd thank you.âÂ
Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance.Â
âMmm,â the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. âFuuuck.â
âOkay?â
âVery. Just- slow.â
âYou got it, baby.âÂ
The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you donât know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. Itâs simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess.Â
Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier.Â
âFuck,â he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. âYouâre fucking squeezing me. I might die.âÂ
You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. âLike that?âÂ
âDoonnnât. If I come right now Iâll be so embarrassed.âÂ
âWhy? Itâs just me.â
âI donât want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?âÂ
âDream girl, huh?â He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. âMmm yeah. That feels good.âÂ
Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible.Â
Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch.Â
Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. âIâm gonna come soon,â he murmurs. âDo you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?â
You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. Youâd do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.
A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You donât kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, âI love you, you know?âÂ
He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. Youâre so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. âI do know,â he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. âI love you too, you know?â
You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm.Â
Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles.Â
âHmm?â he asks.
âYouâre so pretty.â You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. âThere is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.â He thrusts once sharply and you whine. âChaaaan.â
âHmmm?â
âCan we shower?âÂ
âWe?â
You grin. âYou speak French?âÂ
âI speak pussy.â
âEw, get off of me!â you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. âTake me to the shower, you loser.âÂ
âOui.âÂ
âThen I want to watch Buffy - oh no.â
âWhat?â He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. âAre you alright?â
âI ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.âÂ
âThatâs okay.â He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. âStart the shower, Iâll call and get it re-delivered.â
You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. âI love you.â
âMhmm. Love you too, Bambi.â
-
âI know Iâm good looking,â Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. âBut youâre staring very hard at me.âÂ
Youâre laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You canât help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower.Â
âYou are good looking.â
âDamn. Only like me for the looks?â
âWell your jokes arenât very good.âÂ
He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you.Â
âCan we do Blood and Popcorn forever?â you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. âPlease?â
âAnything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.âÂ
Genre: Romantic Comedy, Strangers to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Fake Dating, Smut (not in this part) MDNI!
Synopsis: After breaking off your engagement to your cheating fiancĂŠ, you decide to take the planned trip to Paris anyway. A vacation alone with the honeymoon suite all to yourself seems like the perfect distraction. Just that, due to an internal error at the hotel lost soul Jihoon, who still isn't over his first love's death five years ago, is staying in the same honeymoon suite as you.
Warnings (in this part): mentions of cheating, alcohol consumption, angst, probably a not so good description of paris tbh, the word "cock" is mentioned once, slight sexual tension
Word Count: 7.9k
A/N: hi everyone!! this is part one of my story for the world tour collab hostes by @svthub!! check out the masterlist here! this one is a bit of a... beginning, i guess, lol. the real drama and smut and all that will be in part two. but i still think this is a a fun part to get to know our characters! this not beta read and i might edit it later... thanks for reading i hope you enjoy <3 header & divider credit to @okiedokrie!
one; the author
The flash of the camera goes off and youâre almost sure your eyes were closed. The teenage girl next to you smiles brightly and waves at you once more before rushing off to go over to her mother. You lightly smile back and look over to your right where Minghao is giving you a thumbs up. Apparently, so you interpret his gesture, youâre holding up quite well for someone who just caught her fiancĂŠe cheating two weeks ago.Â
Youâre aware that you could have canceled the book signing today. No one would have been mad. But even though your heart is shattered to a million pieces and you donât think youâll ever heal from this hurt - you still need to earn money and make those who give you that money happy. Just sucks that the person you build this with is somewhere on the Bahamas with your biggest rival on the romance book market. Or, well, as your publisher says: your bestest friend on the romance book market. Since youâre both making money, of course. You canât count the times you and her have been sent to events together, not saying a word to each other on the way there and playing happy family the second you are in front of the cameras.Â
Her books werenât even good! Boring and predictable if anyone asked you. Your ex had always agreed with you, even if he was her agent as well as yours. But Jaehyun was slick - he told her the same about your books.Â
âHi, oh my god, I love your books so much! I canât wait for the next one!â Itâs a boy with the brightest and whitest smile you have ever seen and for a second you can forget your sadness.
âThank you so much. What name do you want me to sign?âÂ
The book signing ends about half an hour later. Youâre in the car with Minghao whoâs typing something on his phone as he sits in the backseat with you.Â
âYou did great, you know.â He says, not looking up. His words make your stomach turn uncomfortably even though you know he means well.Â
âThanks,â is your mumbled response, your head slowly turning to look out of the window. Minghao sets down his phone, realizing his words didnât come out the way he wanted them to. He sighs.
âBest friend dearest,â he starts, âyou know what I meant. Considering you have been in your room with no lights on and Adele on repeat for the last few months - you did exceptionally well socializing with people you donât know.â
âItâs my job after all, isnât it?âÂ
âNo, your job is writing brilliant books, Y/N. This is just a bonus. Your books would sell wonderfully even without you doing this.â
Three months ago this would have made your chest fill with pride. Youâd be beaming and agreeing with Minghao, content with your life and what you had made it to be. But now, itâs different.Â
Now, all you feel is ache in your chest. No sense of pride, no smile in sight. No contentment with how your life is going. Joy has been missing in your palette of feelings for a long time.Â
The city lights are what keep you awake. Exhaustion and the feeling of sadness that you have become so used to are close to make you falter, to make you want to go home and put those Adele songs right back on repeat. Itâs not fair, you think. Not fair that your life was ruined this way and you canât get back up. That all youâre able to do is live because you have to, not because you want to. And the closer July 17th comes - the more you feel yourself falling deeper into a hole.Â
Itâs hard to believe that three months ago you were a completely different person. A person who loved to laugh, who had fun game nights with her friends, cooked every day, went for runs in the morning, planned a wedding. You were a person who loved to love. All of this was accompanied by the person you had been sure youâd spend the rest of your life with: Jaehyun. He was tall, handsome, kind. You had met him through work - he had been assigned your agent when you switched publishers. He was your muse. Helped you with your books, made the sales sky rocket with the way he marketed you.Â
For five years he was your everything. In some ways (ways you loathed) he still is. Your whole life revolved around him. Wherever you went - he did too. Whenever you fell - he was there to catch you. Nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for what was going to happen. But then again, when is someone ever prepared to be cheated on by the person they trusted the most in their life?Â
To say it was a shock would be an understatement. Accidentally finding the messages he sent to her on his iPad. Confronting him and seeing his face fall, his expressions change into something you had never thought possible. He looked caught. Mainly because he was. Also because he never thought the truth would come to light. You had been the only one left in the dark. Everyone at the publishing house knew what he was doing. He and her.Â
It wasnât fair, you knew that, but in the beginning you couldnât handle being mad at Jaehyun. Instead you focused all your anger on her, all the hurt you felt. It wasnât like you had particularly liked her before - she was your rival, the person everyone always compared you to. She was younger than you, didnât have as much experience - but she was more successful. At least to an extent. Her books regularly went viral on âbooktokâ, mainly because she wrote them like she worked in a factory. Every couple of months thereâd be a new one - and people ate it up. You, on the other hand, liked to take your time, liked to write stories with captivating characters, with characters people could relate to - fall in love with.Â
Suddenly your biggest rival became the person you hated and wanted to be like the most in the world. To be her would mean to have him. Him, who you still love so much, who still means everything.Â
It is a little different now. 100 days later and you feel like you donât love him as much anymore. Yes, it still hurts like hell and, yes, you want to stay home most of the days. But you donât miss him as much as you used to.Â
âDo you want to grab a drink?â Minghao asks now even though he already knows the answer. Gosh, you wish you could give him a yes. A smile and a yes. Instead, you only present him with the first, stretching out your hand and reaching for his.
âI need to get home, Hao. Today has been a lot.â
Minghao nods slowly, a sad smile on his pretty lips. He understands, he really does. But he also misses his happy best friend. Misses the way your eyes crinkle when you smile wholeheartedly , misses the sound of you honest laugh. No matter how many time will pass, he doesnât think he could ever forgive Jaehyun for what heâs done to you.
Fighting with a french man on the phone at the crack of dawn surely had not been on your agenda for today.Â
âIâm sorry, miss, but the cancellation period ended two weeks ago, there is nothing we can do.âÂ
Itâs too early and you are too tired. He is probably too by now, considering he has been saying this sentence at least five times in the past seven minutes. You pull a hand through your hair and let it drop back onto the mattress after.
âMy wedding isnât happening anymore, and you really wonât let me cancel the honeymoon suite?â Usually, youâd never snap at anyone over the phone - especially custom service personnel, but this is different. What heâs implying means you wonât get any money back from one of the most expensive purchases youâve made. Worst thing about this: you paid for this yourself. Jaehyun had paid the location - which of course could still be canceled. But the freaking hotel stay in Paris of course was set in stone!Â
âI am very sorry, miss. I wish there was more that I could do. Perhaps you can take the trip yourself and enjoy our beautiful honeymoon sui-â
You hang up on him. Itâs not polite, youâre aware. But just the thought of being alone in the suite you were supposed to enjoy with your freshly baked husband⌠no, absolutely not. Then, fine, youâd have to live with having spent thousands of dollars on a hotel suite you wouldnât be able to use.Â
As if life isnât horrible enough already.
When you sit at brunch later that day with Minghao and your mutual friend Mingyu, they both stare at you like youâve just told them you decided to get Jaehyunâs face tattooed on your thigh.Â
âAre you kidding me? You basically get to have a Paris vacation for free for yourself!â Mingyu says, the glass of mimosa he is holding in his hand is almost spilling with the way he moves his arm. You scoff.
âWhat do you mean âfreeâ? I literally paid for it months ago!âÂ
âOkay, and did you already make that money back?â Mingyu continues and raises his brow. You stay silent for a moment.Â
The restaurant Minghao chose is filled with people enjoying the vegan food made from scratch. Your own very delicious avocado toast with a side of fresh fruit and soy-yogurt is laying in front of you, waiting to be eaten. The mimosa Minghao had ordered for you remains untouched.Â
âShe has.â Hao decides to answer for you as he sips from his mug of matcha. You shoot him a glare.
âSo what! Iâm not going to go to Paris by myself when this was supposed to be my honeymoon!â You try to stay quiet, looking from Minghao to Mingyu and back. Judging by their faces, they donât seem to understand the big deal.Â
You envy them. God, how much you wish you could just do it. Go on that already paid for vacation by yourself, not give a single damn about Jaehyun and his new girlfriend. Your heart sinks. Just thinking these words is making you feel like crawling back into bed.Â
Minghao groans and puts his mug back on the table.Â
âY/N,â he starts and his voice sounds more serious than youâve ever heard him talk before - even Mingyu seems startled, âI get it, okay? I get that he hurt you, that he made you believe in something that was never going to work. He is an asshole, if not the biggest asshole walking freely on this earth. But youâre young! Youâre young and you deserve better than this! Keeping to yourself, barely leaving your apartment - your bed, honey, itâs not good for you. I understand that you want to stay away, that the world is a fucking scary place without the person you thought was your person right there next to you,â he grabs your hand over the table, âbut do you know what all of this means? That your person is still out there! That you can still find them! And what better place to start than Paris, the literal city of love!â
He means well. Just like the other night after the book signing. He means well and he wants just whatâs best for you. No one wants you to feel better as much as he does. Then why does it make you so mad that he is asking this of you? That he is calling you out this way?Â
You pull your hand away from his and grab your purse from the free chair next to yours. Both men gawk at you, startled.
âY/N-,â Mingyu tries, but you raise your hand to interrupt him.
âYou get it, Hao? Really? Has your significant other of five years also cheated on you with your biggest rival? Did you also have to cancel a wedding you put hours and hours of work and money into? Because I donât remember this happening to you! So, I would really appreciate it if you gave me the time I need to grieve this relationship and decide for myself when I am ready to get out again!â
Without giving them another look, you storm out of the restaurant. Everything around you is a blurr and you only notice that youâre crying when you reach your car. Cursing to yourself, you move to open your car, tears dripping from your cheeks down onto your shirt. God, what a pathetic little woman. Crying in your car after yelling at your best friends for what? For caring? For only meaning to help?Â
It takes a while before you manage to start the engine and get on the road to drive home. The radio is silent and for a second you wished you could turn off your brain the same way. Just one switch and all thoughts gone. All the self doubts and the hurt, all the thoughts of what-if and the wish to travel back in time and never have you take his iPad.Â
You stop at a red light and wipe away some more tears. You donât dare to look into the mirror and check your make-up.Â
Never finding the iPad, you circle back, if you had never found it, you wouldnât be in this situation. No, youâd most likely still be in a relationship with a man that cheated on you. That didnât love you half as much as he claimed, that didnât deserve the time and care youâd given him.Â
When the light turns green, you continue your way, your thoughts still roaming around the what if. And while your heart yearns for him back, for what you believed you had - your head knows itâs better this way. Jaehyun isnât the one for you, as much as you would have loved him to be, Minghao is right. Itâs just that the thought of starting over with someone new makes you cringe, makes fear rise within you. Someone new to give your heart to and hope they donât break it the way Jae had.Â
Once youâre on the highway you think back about the time you had decided to travel to Paris for your honeymoon. It had been your idea, your wish. Your first ever book, even if it never made it onto a bestseller list or into the mouths of the best romance critics - it was set in Paris. The city of live, the city you decided would become your favorite even though you had never been. Spending two weeks there with the love of your life after becoming his forever, seriously, nothing had ever sounded as wonderful as that.Â
Minghaoâs words ring in your ear. Your person is still out there, he said. And that Paris, as the city of love, would be the perfect place to go look for them. Your knuckles turn white around the steering wheel. You never wanted to spend time in Paris with anyone but Jaehyun.Â
Or maybe, you think as you take the exit leading to your neighborhood, the only Person you need to spend time with in Paris is yourself.Â
two; the lost soul
He never should have listened to Jeonghan. No one should ever listen to Jeonghan. The cab driver is speaking in quick french that Jihoon knows he wouldnât understand even if he spelled out every word for him. Then again, he isnât even sure the driver is talking to him or just about him. Jihoon canât really blame him. After all, he is the stupid American with the stupid big guitar case and a backpack almost bigger than himself.Â
The backseat is hot and Jihoonâs sunglasses do little to keep the sun from blinding him.Â
Paris in the summer sounded better on paper than it does actually experiencing it. Itâs nothing compared to the summer in Arizona, where Jihoon grew up, but having lived in Vermont for a while now, he wasnât used to the burning hot, scorching sun that threatened to give him the sunburn of his life if he didnât re-apply his sunscreen every few hours.Â
Tara had always laughed at him and his easily burned skin. She never burned, no, she got a tan right away, looking beautiful in the rays of sunshine dazzling on her skin like they belonged there.Â
Right now, he misses her more than he has in a while. When he passes the beautiful architecture of his first loveâs favorite city, he smiles even with the sun shining directly into his eyes.Â
In all seriousness, Jihoon doesnât know why he is here. It feels wrong to be here without her, but it also felt like he had to take the invitation from his friend. She would have never forgiven him, if he let this opportunity fly. Visit the city of love, the city she had always dreamt about, he knows as wrong as it feels, itâs the right thing to do.Â
A few minutes later, the cab stops in front of an old looking building. Without saying anything, the driver takes Jihoonâs Euros and drives off after heaving Jihoonâs suitcase out of his trunk.Â
Jihoon looks after the car, his dark hair falling into his forehead. Once the cab takes the next corner, he looks at the building, something stirring in his stomach. This⌠doesnât look like the pictures on AirBnb at all. Quickly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket, happy he booked the data package at the airport back home. Opening his app, he feels like heâs about to throw up his airplane food.
Itâs not there. The apartment is gone from the app, not newly put in under a different name, not just gone because of a glitch. Itâs like it never existed. Jihoon curses, moving his fingers over his screen, calling the customer service only to be met with a french speaking automatic voice that doesnât help him in the slightest.Â
Hanging up again, he stares at his phone for a few seconds. He shouldnât have come. It feels too much like a sign. Maybe he should try changing his flight to this evening, maybe he should try to run after that cab and-
The phone in his hands rings and he quickly picks up.
âHello?â
âJihoonie!â Itâs Jeonghan, the only reason he is in Paris in the first place, âdid you make it to the city of love?â
âYeah, and I wish I didnât,â Jihoon mumbles in response, brushing his hair out of his face.
âWhy? What happened?â Jeonghan does sound concerned, which might be a first.
âMy Airbnb doesnât exist.â
Silence. Jihoon just knows his friend is trying his hardest not to laugh. Oh, to be Yoon Jeonghann and always get entertained by his friendsâ miseries.Â
âJeonghan, this isnât funny, okay? Iâm about to call another cab and get my ass back home.â
âNo! No, you canât go home! Youâre here and Iâm going to make sure these will be two of the most amazing weeks of your life, alright? Look, instead of home, get your ass to my hotel. I think I might have a solution for your problem.â
When Jeonghan texts him the address and Jihoon hails another cab, he doesnât dare to hope that his friend has an actual solution.Â
Perhaps Jihoon should have asked Jeonghan more thoroughly what kind of Hotel he works at. Because this looks very different to the building Jihoon just left. This is art, this is a fancy hotel in the middle of Parisâ most elegant streets, people in expensive clothes walking around Jihoon who has only a backpack and a guitar on his back. Jihoon gapes at the building, words he has read a million times suddenly filling his head, suddenly coming to life.
The façade of the hotel stands proudly on the bustling Parisian street, an exquisite testament to classical elegance and modern charm. The buildingâs cream-colored stonework is adorned with intricate carvings and ornate embellishments, each detail meticulously crafted to perfection. Above the entrance, a grand arch frames a large window, its glass shimmering in the soft light of the early evening.
Striped blue-and-white awnings shade the windows, their cheerful colors contrasting beautifully with the buildingâs stately architecture. Delicate wrought-iron balconies extend from the upper floors, offering glimpses of lush potted plants and inviting chairs, perfect for an intimate evening under the stars.
The entrance is framed by deep blue columns, and a passageway, warm light spills out from within, hinting at the luxurious interior that awaits guests. A pair of elegant lanterns flank the doorway, casting a gentle glow on the stone steps below.
Above the entrance, a crest adorned with elaborate scrollwork and a regal shield stands as a proud emblem of the hotelâs storied history. The name of the hotel is etched in graceful letters, a promise of the enchanting experience that lies within.Â
He doesnât dare to move from where he is standing. Doesnât dare to step foot into the hotel that looks exactly the way he had envisioned the one Tara would always read to him. Goosebumps erupt all over his skin and he swears there are tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. This must be a dream, a different reality, because there is no way Jeonghan works here.Â
But when Jihoon lets his eyes wander over the façade and into one of the magnificent windows - he spots his friend. Spots him on the phone behind the wooden counter, writing something down. He is here and this is real.Â
So, Jihoon slowly moves. One foot before the other, eyes glued to the entrance, nis heart beating in his chest. He feels silly, but he wonders if Tara had seen this as clear as he had back when she had read the book to him over and over again.Â
A welcome warmth meets Jihoon inside. Itâs just as beautiful as the outside, he finds, his stomach turning over once more.Â
The lobby exudes a warm, inviting glow, courtesy of the golden chandeliers that hang from the high ceilings, casting a soft light over the polished marble floors. Rich hues of deep blue and soft gold dominate the color palette, creating a sense of opulence and sophistication. Jeonghan stands behind the mahogany desk, still talking on the phone, still not spotting Jihoon.Â
Jihoon, who feels so insanely out of place in his worn out jeans and the old leather jacket, with his hair unkempt and his eyebrow pierced. He moves over to the front desk, trying his hardest not to care about the stares he is getting from the people who clearly know he doesnât actually belong here.
Jeonghanâs eyes light up when he sees him, a wide smile now on his lips as he holds up a finger as if to tell Jihoon to just be a little more patient. Jihoon carefully puts his hands on the top of the counter, his eyes roaming the lobby again.Â
âOf course, we canât wait to have you back here again so soon, Miss Jones. Have a great day, bye bye!âÂ
Jihoonâs eyes fly over to Jeonghan again when he hears the phone click.Â
âYouâre actually here!â Jeonghanâs smile grows and he moves forward to give Jihoon probably the most awkward hug of his life over the counter. Jihoon laughs at that, patting his friend on the back.Â
âWell, itâs either this or the streets,â he smiles, âyou never told me how⌠grant all of this is.â He gestures with his hands, as if to make sure Jeonghan knows he means the hotel. His blonde haired friend chuckles.
âYeah, I thought it would come off like bragging if I did say so. I never would have heard the end of it from the boys.â
Jihoon nods. He knows exactly what Jeonghan means. Still. He canât shake the feeling that if he had known about this⌠his stomach drops again.
âItâs beautiful.â Is all he eventually says, ignoring the worried look of his friend. Jihoon doesnât know (and Jeonghan will never tell him) but there was a reason he had never mentioned this to him.Â
âThat, it is,â Jeonghan finally responds, wiping the worry off his face and replacing it with a broad smile, âand you will get to live here for the next two weeks!â
âI will what?!â Jihoonâs eyes widen in surprise, âJeonghan, I can barely pay rent at home, what do you-,â
âObviously for free, dummy,â Jeonghan chuckles, âwe have a free suite that has already been paid for, full price.â
Jihoon raises his brows, his hands feeling damp on top of the fancy counter.
âHow come itâs free when itâs fully paid?â He asks.
âWell, there was supposed to be a wedding andâŚ. now there isnât one. They didnât meet the requirements for the full or the partial refund. So, itâs free for the next two weeks since we canât legally double book. You want it?â
It feels a little bit too good to be true, but Jihoon is in no place to turn down Jeonghanâs offer. The little voice in his head is trying to get to him, trying to make him speak the words to himself. It tries to get him to admit that this feels a lot like fate. Like a sign from above, from Tara. He doesnât let it get to him. Heâs not ready for that, and heâs certainly not melancholic enough for thoughts like this - even as a songwriter.Â
âI do, thank you, Han, I honestly donât know what Iâd do without you right now.â
âOh, most certainly sleep on the streets. Find a rat for a friend, or maybe a pigeon. They are crazy over here,â Jeonghan sings as he types something in the computer, scanning one of the key cards he takes from the drawer beneath him. Jihoon watches him with his heartbeat in his ears.Â
âYeah, never been a big fan of rats. Or pigeons.â Jihoon dares to look around the lobby again, seeing all those people living their life, probably never worried about any of the things he worries about. He wasnât lying when he said he has trouble paying his rent. Work hasnât been easy these days.Â
âAaaaand, here we go!â Jeonghan grins brightly, âyour key, Mr. Lee.â He holds it mid air, pulling it back slightly as Jihoon is trying to grab it. The latter gives him a funny look. Jeonghan pouts as he thinks.
âThat rhymes. âYour key, Mr. Leeâ.â Jihoon closes his eyes for a second. Jeonghan chuckles happily.
âWatch out, Iâm coming for your job.â
âWell, stop it and do yours instead,â Jihoon replies, allowing himself to grin back at his friend and take the card from his hands, âwhere is this suite you promised me?â
-
Jeonghan hadnât mentioned what kind of suite this is. There is nothing Jihoon can do but stare at his surroundings with his mouth and backpack dropped, his guitar slowly sliding down his arm.Â
He is in the honeymoon suite. In retrospect, it makes sense. Jeonghan did say a wedding had been canceled.Â
There are three rooms. Right now, Jihoon is standing in the enormous entrance way. Golden and blue like downstairs, with wood accents, a big round table in the center of the room that connected all the different rooms, a centerpiece of flowers as beautiful as a summer day adjoining it. The walls are high and plastered with fine drawing, ornating through all of the hallway and over to the other rooms. Flowers and patterns so elegant Jihoon doesnât know how to even describe them.Â
He feels out of place as much as he feels content. Letting his luggage rest on the floor, he moves into the first room. Itâs a large sitting room, probably as big as his whole apartment back at home. Two couches of rich dark blue; cushions in different colors, some of them reminding Jihoon of the ocean, some of the sky, rich blues and light blues, and then there is the color of dawn, orange and yellow.Â
A majestic cremĂŠ colored carpet lays beneath the sofas, a glass table standing between them. On top of it magazine stacks and a glass tray holding what looks like whiskey and two glasses. High windows let the sun shine through and Jihoon spots a balcony leading around the living- and bedroom, holding his breath as he imagines himself out there softly strumming his guitar with a glass of whiskey or wine. His heart warms at the thought of finally having peace. Peace in the city his former lover had loved so much.Â
Next up he walks into the bedroom, a king sized bed greets him with white linen covers and pillows almost as big as his torso. It looks incredibly comfortable and he couldnât wait to lay down and relax after the day heâs had. Golden curtains sway in the wind let in by an opened window, and the view is so poetic he almost feels himself tear up. Quickly, he looks away and instead finds his way into the master bathroom. Itâs all held in gold as well, gold and white for a change, an enormous tub next to a high rain shower behind a glass wall. He sighs.
This is perfect. And he most definitely needs a shower right now.Â
So, he retraces his steps and grabs his luggage, setting everything down next to the bed and letting his guitar rest in the corner of the room. He decides to actually unpack his backpack that probably doesnât even hold as much clothes as he probably needs for this trip (he did think he had a washer, though) and places everything in the large closet opposite the bed.Â
Finding himself humming, Jihoon allows a little bit more of that earlier peace to find place in his head and heart. Perhaps there is no reason for him to be worried - to look for something to go terribly wrong on this trip. Jeonghan is off work by now, and theyâll go catch dinner together, then heâll come back here and maybe watch a movie, fall asleep to the sound of Paris outside his window. He doesnât know what it sounds like just yet, but heâs already excited to find out.Â
Ridding himself of his clothes and feeling another threat of tears when he touches the towels hanging in the bathroom, Jihoon finally lets himself step into the shower and wash all of his worries away.Â
three; the mix-up
You donât think your heart has ever beaten as fast as it does when you walk out the Charles de Gaulle airport and right into the arms of the driver Minghao has arranged for you. Itâs not about the driver or the airport - but where you are.Â
Paris, the city of love, the city you feared to visit after what had happened with Jae. Yet, here you stand. Handing the driver your luggage and fishing for your phone in your purse, texting Minghao you already found your driver and are now on the way to the hotel. It all feels surreal and like youâre going to wake up any second.
Minghao forgave you without hesitation. Hugged you close to his chest and cried with you as you told him you were sorry and that he was right. You needed to do this - needed to face your demons. Together, the two of you had finalized the plans, popping open a bottle of expensive champagne and gossiping about Jaehyun and who he left you for. Little by little, you knew, you would find yourself again. And perhaps Paris was the perfect way to start.Â
The drive from the airport to the hotel was spent staring out the window. First you saw the highway leading from the airport to the city - greenery with trees on each side, all passing by you in a blurr. And then the beautiful streets of Paris. The fine architecture, the elegant bridges over the Seine. Heart warming at the sight of the city you dreamt about so much. Your first ever book had taken place right here, you had let your main characters kiss for the first time right there on that bridge leading from one side of Paris to the other, so close to the Louvre, to the glass pyramid you made them fight and make up all the same, just months apart. The sun is dazzling onto the dark water of the river, light dancing on the surface.Â
The driver comes to a stop in front of the hotel about 45 minutes after your departure from Charles de Gaulle. He holds open the door for you and helps you out of the car, smiling at you warmly and finally getting your bags out of the trunk. You thank him in some broken French and he nods at you before finding his way back to the driverâs seat.Â
One of the bell-boys spot you right when you walk in, their English sounding a bit like your French just now. You thank them and hand over your luggage, letting them help you carry it to the mahogany reception.
It is exactly like you remember it. You had never seen it in person, no. But youâve found this hotel during your research, falling in love with it right away. It was a no-brainer that your honeymoon was to be held here.Â
You felt overwhelmed at the sight of the colors you had tried so hard to bring to paper, at the sound of soft music in the background, at the knowledge this was real and you were gonna stay here for two whole weeks.Â
Finally, you reach the counter where a small man stands and smiles up at you, his hair styled back.
âWelcome, how can I help you?â He says in perfect English and you place your hands on top of the counter.
âHi,â you tell him your name, âI have a reservation.â
The man nods, looking up the reservation and finding it right away. Not marked as checked in, he notes and gives you another big smile.
âIt is wonderful to have you, Miss. Will your husband be joining you?âÂ
You expected as much. While it does hurt a little, having to say these next words, you know itâs a step in the right direction.
âI will be staying here alone, thank you.â
It is more beautiful than you could have imagined and it takes you a whole lot not to start crying. Your luggage gets brought up by the nice bell-boys and you thank them by tipping them each 50 Euros. Their smiles make the loss of the money worthwhile.Â
Once the door closes behind them, you dare to look around. See the beautiful entrance way in all its glory. See the living room in all itâs elegance, the high ceiling and windows, the smaller bedroom with a queen sized bed and a little reading nook, two ceiling high bookshelves standing around a comfortable looking loveseat. This must be what heaven looks like.Â
There is nothing that can wipe that smile off your face. Everything inside you tingles with happy excitement, moving to go look at the master bedroom with the on-suite bathroom you remembered staring at for at least five minutes when you booked the room. Imagining yourself in the enormous bathtub with a glass of champagne and classical music playing, letting all the stress and hurt from the past months fade away with the notes.Â
You donât notice the closet and how there are clothes hanging inside it. Neither do you see the guitar case in the corner of the room. It fascinates you - how your mind tricks you into thinking you already hear the sound of water running, accompanied by humming along to a tune. Magnificent, what the mind can do.Â
When you finally reach for the doorknob to push it down, yanking the door open in one swift move, you realize perhaps your mind isnât as magnificent as you thought.
Jihoon doesnât notice you until you scream. He swirls around, which is inherently a foolish thing to do inside a wet, slippery shower, his eyes widening whe spots you, reacting to your scream by screaming himself. He realizes heâs naked and tries to find something to cover him, taking a step forward to reach for the towel and forgetting there is literally a glass wall separating you two.Â
Watching the man walk face-first into the glass and stumbling back, slipping on the wet floors and falling onto his ass would have made you laugh if it wasnât inside your shower.Â
âWhat the hell!â You yell, turning around so you donât look at the naked man any longer.
âWho are you?!â He yells back and you almost gasp.
âI should ask you that!â
The two of you need to yell because Jihoon has not yet managed to turn the shower off. Only now does he (while rubbing his hurting back) get up, struggling in the process, his hand finding the lever to turn off the water. His nose hurts and his ass and his back.Â
He moves out of the shower without running into glass this time, and wraps one of the soft towels around his waist.Â
âIâm Jihoon,â he finally says. You think youâre suddenly stuck in a really bad movie.
âThat- youâre telling me your name?!â You turn around again, staring at the stranger with disbelief in your eyes.Â
âYou did ask who I was, didnât you?â
For a few moments the two of you continue to stare at each other. With every passing second you notice just how naked he is. Yes, there is a towel around him now, but you certainly did not⌠miss what was under there when you first walked in. As much as you donât want to, your eyes scan the stranger, or well, Jihoon as he told you, stopping at his wet torso, the defined abs and the broad chest. He might be small in height but the rest of him seems⌠big.Â
You swallow.
âIf youâre done checking me out, would you mind telling me why youâre in my room?â
Heat spreads through your body and right into your face, your eyes jumping from his torso to his face.
âYour room? Iâm sorry, this is my room!â
While Jihoon did hit his head, he isnât hurt enough not to understand that youâre most likely telling the truth. But Jeonghan had said the wedding was off⌠that you wouldnât come here. So, why on earth, where you here?
âI- I can explain,â he begins, taking a step forward only for you to take a step backward. He holds out his hand as if to signal he wasnât going to do anything.
âGo right ahead,â you hate that your voice is shaking, but itâs not like it is an everyday occurrence you find a beautiful stranger in your hotel room. If this wasnât your actual life but a book this might have been sexy, might have led to the bed behind you finding the two strangers entangled, giving in to the sexual tension between them. Not that there was any of that in this situation.
âMy friend, Jeonghan, he- he works here. He told me this suite wouldnât be used and so I- well he asked me if I wanted to stay here for my trip after I told him my airbnb didnât actually exist and I needed a, uh, a place to stay.â
You blink at him.
âHe just- he gave you my honeymoon suite for free?
Jihoon swallows.
âWellâŚ,â he thinks a little longer on his answer, âyes. Yes, he did.â
Telling the truth is probably his best bet.Â
You take a deep breath, turning away from him, clenching and unclenching your hands.
âAs you can see, I am here. So, please, find somewhere else to stay.â
Jihoon saw it coming, obviously. It was all too good to be true. Without saying anything else, he walks over to the closet, ready to dress himself. Just that he didnât quite calculate the new luggage now laying in front of the bed.Â
It all seems to happen in slow motion.
Jihoon tripping over your suitcase, his hands desperate trying to find something to hold on to before he falls. As if on reflex, you grab his arm, yanking him up so he doesnât fall flatly on his face, just that you somehow manage to yank him so hard, you fall off balance. With a high pitched squeak, you fall onto the bed, Jihoon landing on top of you, his towel falling off in the process of the fall and save.Â
A naked man is on top of you, brown eyes wide with shock staring into yours. His hands somehow moved right to the sides of your head as if to catch himself from falling even further on top of you.Â
You can feel him. Feel his breath on your face, his skin on yours, his friend against your thigh. More heat rises, your face, your neck, your chest, your core. Itâs bad. This shouldnât be happening right now.Â
The two of you are so engulfed in the moment, you donât even realize when the door opens yet again. When voices you would normally recognize without trouble seem to fail your ears this time. Jihoonâs face so close to yours - way too distracting.
âWhat the fuck?!âÂ
Realization hits you at the same time as recognition and you gasp, your knee coming up, right into Jihoonâs lower parts, a yelp escaping him as he slides off the bed, hands now covering his private area and his face in a grimace of sheer pain.Â
You donât even notice it. Not really, at least. Now itâs not his face thatâs distracting you but the one you used to love for so many years.
âJaehyun?â You whisper. And for a second you think he came here to make amends, to win you back, to get on his knees and apologize - then you spot her walking in, her eyes scanning the room with distaste.Â
âWho is that?â Jaehyun asks and you feel your blood boil.Â
âWhat are you doing here?â You ignore his question. He isnât looking at you, but at Jihoon still on the floor.Â
âOh, well, you know. We thought that it would be such a waste to let this suite go to waste,â it is her who answers you now, her deep red manicured hands now curling around Jaehyunâs biceps.Â
This bitch. Your blood starts boiling. Anger makes you see red.Â
âYou brought her here?â You hiss at Jaehyun who has the decency to look guilty at least. You snort. Then, your eyes find Jihoon whoâs still on the ground, Jihoon who is still naked. Jihoon, who desperately needs a place to stay.Â
God knows what makes you do what you do next. Desperation? Foolery? Who knows. But you move to help Jihoon up, grabbing the towel and holding it in front of his lower half.Â
âY/N,â Jaehyun starts but you interrupt him.
âI see that we both had the idea to bring our new partners, or in your case old partner, to the suite we booked together, Jae. But since I was the one who paid for it, I would kindly ask you to leave.â
New partner. Jihoon needs a few seconds before he grasps what you just said.Â
âNew- new what?â He mumbles, but you clear your throat to drown out his voice. Jaehyunâs face is priceless and you donât want the bluff to be uncovered so quickly.
âThat is your new boyfriend?â She asks, her brows raised. You can see that sheâs checking him out - his abs, his cest, his pretty face. It makes your insides turn with hatred and disgust.Â
âGot a problem, Sierra?â You reply, your jaw tense. Her eyes only briefly meet yours.
âOh, absolutely not. Iâm glad to see you finally got out of that moping phase, honey. It really didnât suit you.âÂ
Your grip around the towel tightens.Â
Slowly, Jihoon begins to understand what is going on. Who these people are. There was supposed to be a wedding and a honeymoon, but neither of these happened. You are the bride, or well, were supposed to be the bride. And he, the man you called Jaehyun and who had caused all the color to fade from your face, surely seems to be the groom who⌠never got to be the groom. And judging by the way you reacted to him and her, he guesses the reason the wedding didnât happen was⌠the woman youâd called Sierra.Â
Blinking a few times, Jihoon realized that you were trying to convince him that he was your new boyfriend. That you had brought him here, to this hotel. It was ridiculous and straight out of a bad movie, but somehow⌠even if he didnât know you, he felt like he should help you. And so, he let his arm wrap around your waist, catching you by surprise.Â
âI would kindly ask you to leave us be. You have done enough.â
Your head swirled to look at the man next to you. His stern face and his wet hair. Drops of water sliding down the side of his neck.Â
âHow long has this been going on?â Jaehyun asks, ignoring Jihoonâs request. You turn to look at him again.
âThatâs none of your business. You heard him, Jae. Leave. This isnât your room anymore.â
Another beat of silence falls between the four of you. You try your best to ignore Sierra and cling onto Jihoonâs hand like it was the only saving grace. Perhaps that was true. Holding Jaeâs gaze and trying to calm down your hurting heart, your wishes to throw something at him.Â
âFine. I heard the honeymoon suite in the Hilton is much nicer than this one, baby.â
It is then that you see it. The rings on her finger. Your stomach drops. He married her. Oh, youâre about to throw up. Jihoon seems to notice your change of emotions, quickly clearing his throat.
âGreat. Have fun in Paris then.âÂ
He carefully takes the towel from your hand, wrapping it around him fully again. Then, he looks at you. The overwhelming urge to give you a hug is almost unbearable.
âMaybe,â Jaehyun said, âsince we are both seeing other people and have moved on - we could grab dinner sometime this week. All of us.â
Jihoon sees the way your eyes shake at the suggestion. And he is just about to say no, that thatâs not a good idea, when you push your shoulder back and hold your head high.
âWhat a lovely idea. Weâd love to, isnât that right, baby?â You interlock your fingers with Jihoonâs and he stares at you for just a second, before nodding.
âSure,â he breathes out, looking at Jaehyun and Sierra.Â
It most certainly isnât a lovely idea, he is well aware of that. This whole thing isnât a good idea. But here he is. Holding the hand of a woman he barely met twenty minutes ago. A woman who has seen him naked, a woman who had his half hard cock against the inside of her thigh. A woman he had been closer to than any other in the last five years.Â
No, this wasnât a good idea. This was an awful, horrible idea that could only go so, so wrong.Â
there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.
summary: itâs 2:00 am, and you canât turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it.
pairing: lee jihoon x reader
au: established relationship
type: one-shot (smut)
word count: 5.2k
rating: 18+
cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); thereâs a sentence about reader taking âan inadvisable amount of melatonin gummiesâ â donât do this! â but theyâre not impaired in any way; readerâs internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip iâve attempted for months.
â° minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work.
smut warnings: big dick lee jihoonâ˘ď¸, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms.
a/n: i havenât written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that iâm exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isnât incoherent garbage. đľâđŤ dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace.
multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.
You should be asleep.
With the day youâve had, you shouldâve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you shouldâve stayed that way â unmoving, unconscious â for several hours, at minimum.
If the weekâs worth of sleep debt wasnât exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.
From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, youâve listened. Youâre burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you.Â
Itâs not, though.
With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: itâs beautiful.
But itâs not enough.
You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely heâs got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time youâve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths heâs aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, youâd rather die.
Taking his silence as a sign that youâve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him.Â
Nothing.
But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts.Â
âFuck,â you mouth to no one.
It wouldnât be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.
You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict. Â
Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him.Â
Heâll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see wonât be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.
Itâll be fine.Â
Itâll be fine.
If you go to sleep right now, youâll get five hours and thirty â
âYou havenât unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,â notes the worldâs groggiest voice from over your shoulder.
Jihoonâs lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you mightâve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.
He shifts again. This time, thereâs no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isnât separate from yours at all.
With the distance erased, his face â the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks â can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.
âWhat are we spinning our wheels over tonight?â He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.
The fact that he canât see your face doesnât stop you from frowning. Yet again, youâve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you donât need him to. Youâll hold it against yourself â grudge by proxy.Â
âI donât even know,â you admit with a frustrated huff. âThereâs nothing coherent going on up there.â You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. âNothing articulable, just⌠blender brain.â
âMmm.â
Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, youâve learned that youâre incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when heâs got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.
A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, youâre convinced that heâs fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.
âHow do we unplug the blender?â
You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isnât his.
When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. âHmm?âÂ
He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, âI can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and ââ
The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if heâs conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.
You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, âWhatâs the second thing?â
His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. Itâs simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. Itâs more than enough to make you shiver:
âMaking you cum.â
But as crazy as that statement makes you, you canât make yourself act on it.
At any other time, youâd jump on that opportunity â jump on him â in a heartbeat. All youâre able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound.Â
Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldnât have brought it up if he didnât truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.
Heâs only offering so youâll stop keeping him awake.
Heâs as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.
Burden.
Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. âI love you,â you start. He stills. âBut, Jihoon, youâre so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. Itâs okay â Iâm okay.â
Jihoon doesnât push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, itâs yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, âLove you,â before relaxing back against the pillows.
Minutes pass.
Maybe hours, for all you know.Â
As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know youâre wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what heâs offering.
The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.
Maybe youâd be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just â fucking â sleep.
Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.
You fail.
Maybe, since you canât sleep, you and your wilted little brain shouldâve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu â
âThatâs enough,â Jihoon grunts.
The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.
Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but itâs not the sudden moves that shook it loose; itâs the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. Itâs the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which mustâve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.
The very best you can come up with is, âYouâre awake.â
âSo are you,â he retorts without missing a beat.
That face â god, that face â doesnât budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern youâve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isnât even remotely harsh when he continues, âIf those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.â
Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoonâs eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.
He speaks when you donât, hard edges softening slightly. âI can fix it,â he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there.Â
Let me take care of you.
That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort youâve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.
âI have to admit it, though,â Jihoon confesses. âYours isnât the only mind thatâs restless.â
He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snailâs pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.
âIâve been holding you for hours now, and all that time ââÂ
He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasnât.
ââ Iâve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me ââ
His touch whispers over your collarbone. Itâs the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, itâs not an apology that youâre keeping to yourself but a whimper.
ââ or lay you back against the pillows ââ
You donât mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you canât help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath youâve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.
Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. ââ Take my time, and ââ
Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. âFuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.â
Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry.Â
You donât, thankfully.Â
Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling.Â
âI want that,â you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, âNo, itâs not even want. Itâs ââ Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. ââ need. I need you.â
You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again.Â
Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. Thereâs no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.
Though heâd be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesnât. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesnât say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.
Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.
With your chest bare, itâs obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: âLet me take care of you.â
And you do.
You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.
Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You shouldâve known this would be the case.Â
He said heâd fix it, didn't he?Â
And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.
Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, heâs equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, heâs downright celestial â almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.
Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, âYouâre beautiful.â
His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesnât groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward â just barely â and he shakes his head.
âI mean it,â you quietly insist.
Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. âYouâre relaxing, remember?â
Though you could double-down, any fight you mightâve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps â which ultimately isnât much at all â to keep from floating away.
âBold of you to call me beautiful,â he murmurs against your body, âWhen you just exist like this.â
You donât argue. You canât argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.
With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.
Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he canât get enough of.
As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.
Eloquent as always, you moan, âFuuuuck.â
The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.
Itâs incredible.
No, itâs fucking perfect.
Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and itâs over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.
Apparently, heâs just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.
Your questions overlap.
âDid you just ââ
ââ make me cum from this?â
His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, âOh, shit.â Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, âGoddamn.â
A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know heâs facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but thatâs not a conclusion the pair of you can just â leap to.Â
Thereâs simply too much of him to take if he doesnât fuck you open with his fingers first.
Jihoon shakes his head, as if heâs telling himself no. Like heâs reminding himself of what he promised â or threatened, more like â earlier, that heâs taking his time.
As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldnât. So, you donât. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach.Â
With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, âYouâre perfect.â
Not generally, no.
However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isnât a battle worth picking. In this moment, youâre willing to entertain the possibility that youâre perfect for him.
A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth mustâve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes heâs lost.
Youâd be content to stay this way forever â and likely could, if it came down to it â but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.
Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you â the one youâre still thinking about; the one heâll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.
âListen to you,â he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers.Â
As if you werenât already acutely aware of the way youâve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isnât enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.
You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesnât let it affect his pace â just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.
His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. âI think youâve got another one for me, donât you?â
Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.
âIn fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,â he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. âThink you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.â
You think youâll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.
When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, itâs not a clap of thunder but a roll â patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does â makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.
Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. Itâs anyoneâs guess whether you have any bones left. Youâre sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoonâs body caging you in.
âDonât ask me what my name is.â Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, âI do not remember, and I do not care.â
He kisses the temple that isnât smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. âIf youâre spent, I can stoââ
âDonât you dare.â
The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, youâre sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesnât. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.
âIâll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.â
âEasy, tiger,â he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. âThe whole point of this was for you to relax.â
To prove that you havenât lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely.Â
You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, âJihoon⌠Please.â
âIâve got you.â He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. âBut I canât fuck you unless you give my arm back.â
Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if heâs asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.
Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. Itâs a sight youâve seen a thousand times â his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire â yet itâs one youâll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that heâs never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.
If youâre being honest, thatâs one of the things youâve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; heâs never been caught sweating.
The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when heâs this incomprehensibly hard.
Really, you donât deserve him.
Nevertheless, you get him anyway.Â
Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.
In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you â trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.
âDeep breath,â he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.
Itâs good advice â something Jihoon probably shouldâve heeded.Â
He doesnât.Â
You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, thatâs precisely whatâs causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.
When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.
To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. âAlright?â
Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, heâll understand; he always does.
Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch thatâs erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.
Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.
To prove it to yourself that youâre not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised â slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body mustâve learned to keep him close.
âLove the way you grip me, but...â Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, âYou keep that up, and Iâll cum too soon.â
Heâs one to talk.
Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge.Â
If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there wonât be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it â to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls â to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you â to feel so fucking full â for as long as he gives you.Â
It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.
âOh.â
One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.
At least youâre not the only one.
âFuck, fuck ââÂ
Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoonâs body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. ââ Fuck,â he groans, all the while twitching inside you.
Though he slows, he doesnât stop. Itâs not until he pants, âKiss me,â that you realize it: Jihoon doesnât intend to stop.
Neither, it seems, do you.
Maybe youâre greedy. Maybe youâre too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, itâs the way his cock doesnât soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.
You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. Itâs indulgent â messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.
âCan you still speak in sentences?â He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.
Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say.Â
âIâm â youâre gonna make me ââ
You canât choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didnât even know existed; thereâs no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.
Heâs caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again â hard â and the arms bearing his weight buckle.
Jihoonâs flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.
âWhat just happened?â He sounds as delirious as you feel. âThat was⌠shit. What did your body just do?â
You have no idea.Â
You have no capacity to form any.
All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound â not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.
Eventually, although you canât imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You donât see anything that happens next, but you feel it all â the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.
âIâm coming back to clean you up,â he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, âDonât move.â
I wonât, you think but donât say.
And you donât move.
At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.
â Pairing: Jaeger Pilot!Lee Jihoon x Jaeger Pilot! f.reader Â
â Summary: Itâs a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the jaeger Program has. The only problem? He canât keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks youâll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise.Â
â Word Count: 23,373
â Genre: Pacific Rim AU, Forced Proximity, Annoyed to Lovers
â Type: Smut, Angst
â Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
â Warnings: Jihoon is a bit of an asshole, action/fighting scenes, brief descriptions of blood, mentions of offscreen deaths, brief mentions of sick parents, brief mention of having no family, sexual tension, explicit language, A Lot of Pacific Rim Techincal Terms But Theyâre Explained, terrible humor, a hint of angst, brief depictions of Jihoon being insecure about his childhood, sexually explicit content including nipple play, biting, a total of one (1) spank, oral (f. receiving), the slightest hint of voyeurism mentioned, unprotected sex (donât do this), multiple orgasms, a lot of spit and cum, cum eating, vaginal fingering, a lot of biting, Jihoon is emotionally constipated and then lets it all out lmfaoooo
â A/N: HERE SHE IS. This story takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but you definitely do not have to watch the movie to enjoy it - Iâm pretty sure I explain everything in terms of how it works but if something is confusing, please tell me and I will adjust! I hope you enjoy this Jihoon who has been the apple of my eye for like almost three months now. STAY TUNED FOR MY SECOND FIC IN THIS UNIVERSE SHARING CHAN AND WYLIE'S STORY :)
â A/N 2: SPECIAL THANKS TO @daechwitatamic for not only collaborating with me on our little corner of the internet, but beta reading this giant piece and constantly motivating me while writing it. I could not be anywhere without you I love uÂ
â Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic
â Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
Main Masterlist â Tag List Request Form â Ask â
Jihoon doesnât flinch when Xander throws his helmet against the wall. The crash is loud, but the reinforced material doesnât crack under the force of the concrete. It clatters to the floor while Jihoon tucks his helmet under his right arm. Sweat drips down the side of his neck and down his back, but he canât get to it while in his Drivesuit.Â
Just add it to his list of inconveniences. Â
Everyone in the room freezes as Xander storms toward the command center and right for the Marshall in charge, his steps thunderous against the metal floor. Instead of following him, Jihoon leans against the doorframe, watching the way his co-pilot rages, imagining steam coming out of his ears.Â
âI canât fucking pilot with him,â Xander screams, stabbing an accusatory finger in Jihoonâs direction. âI refuse to do it. Reassign me.âÂ
Eyes drift toward Jihoon. He ignores them, watching as Xander stops at the command post where both the Marshall and the LOCCENT Mission Controller who just walked them through their kaiju fight stand. Both of them stare at Xander, who is red in the face, chest heaving.Â
Itâs a bit of an overreaction, especially for a team who just dispatched a Category Four kaiju. But it doesnât matter. Xander isnât Jihoonâs first co-pilot and he wonât be his last. They rarely last long, a cycle of Rangers who cannot stand to work with him for more than a few fights. Jihoon examines the scratches on his suit, thinking that he needs to get it buffed while the Marshall deliberates how to answer Xanderâs demands.Â
âRanger-âÂ
Xander cuts off the Marshall. Bold, if you ask Jihoon. âIâll leave the fucking program if thatâs what I have to do. I wonât pilot with him anymore, I donât care that we can drift. He wonât trust me, he wonât give up the reins and he refuses to let me in. Heâs arrogant and pig headed!â
âPig headed,â Jihoon mutters to himself. âThatâs new.âÂ
The Marshall sighs heavily, eyes drifting toward Jihoon, who is still leaning against the doorframe. He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug, unsure what the Marshall expected. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Marshall asks Xander to follow him, gesturing toward the door at the back of the command center that leads into offices.Â
Silence blankets the room at their departure. At least, as silent as it can get in the jaeger hub. The beeping of machinery and radar is a constant sound under the hum of machinery and the awkward cough of one of the workers in the room. Jihoon raises his brows as if to ask someone to say something. No one does and he nods, dismissing himself.Â
Laughter trails up the stairs followed by loud steps. He looks down to see Chan and Wylie coming up the stairwell, cheeks flushed and hairlines sweaty from their battle with Dreadfury only minutes earlier. Their team had the assist on the kill, and though they hadnât landed the final blow, their constant offense had given Jihoon and his partner the time they needed to figure out how to move in.Â
Chan sees Jihoon and raises a questioning brow, pausing in the stairs. âLose your co-pilot?â he asks, looking Jihoon up and down.Â
âHowâd you guess?âÂ
âStandard,â Chan and Wylie say at the same time.Â
They do that a lot, so in sync that despite the fact that theyâre two different people, sometimes Jihoon feels like heâs talking to one. Wylie is a little shorter than Chan, but just as furious in personality and attitude. She leans against Chan, cocking her head to the side. Itâs not a conscious movement but an instinct, her body naturally attaching to her co-pilotâs. Jihoon knows that level of closeness well.Â
âThink theyâll just finally get rid of you?â
âNope.âÂ
âStandard,â they both say in unison again. Itâs Chan who says, âMust be nice to get away with murder, Woozi.â He continues up the stairs, clapping Jihoon on the shoulder as he goes. Wylie trails behind him, shooting Jihoon a grin. âOne day youâre gonna end up on your ass.âÂ
âThatâs fine. Youâll both take me in, right?âÂ
Both of their voices meld as they howl in laughter, passing him and going into the command center, yelling âNope!âÂ
Despite their teasing, Jihoon smiles. Heâs known the pair for years and despite their ability to get under his skin, heâs fond of them. Theyâre good jaeger pilots, scrappy as they come and vicious in the field. Unlike Jihoon, theyâve piloted their jaeger together from the start, syncing like twin flames and sticking to one another.Â
It helps that they grew up together, of course. And that theyâre in a relationship, one heart, one soul.Â
Sighing, Jihoon jogs down the rest of the stairs, tired and sore. He needs a shower, food and a fucking nap. He and Xander had been pulling extra shifts, the kaiju activity having increased with the bad weather. He suspects it was also in an attempt to get Jihoon to bond with Xander more and get him to open up, but that hadnât happened.
Thatâs the problem with piloting with Jihoon. The more time people spend with him, the less they can stomach the way he resists them in the mental bridge that connects co-pilots. It isnât that heâs afraid for them to see whatâs in his head - they havenât earned a right to his privacy.
Privacy is important to him.Â
Murmurs ripple through the cafeteria as he enters, rolling his head to the side to try and workout the kink that is formed there. He glances around and fights the urge to roll his eyes. Word spreads fast when youâre secluded in the Shatterdome with nothing but fucking ocean and giant monsters around you.Â
As usual, he ignores the stares and whispering. He catches Soonyoungâs eye from afar and shrugs when his friend gives him a questioning glance, earning an eye roll. Not for the first time, Jihoon finds himself wondering why someone like Soonyoung or Wonwoo canât be his partner.Â
Drift compatibility.Â
He knows thatâs the answer, but heâll never stop wishing that pairing jaeger pilots together was a little easier. So many factors go into making people drift compatible and yet heâs yet to find a partner he can tolerate - or tolerate him in return. If it were as easy as picking his friends, heâd have settled with someone long ago.Â
Brushing away the thought, he heads to his room. It doesnât matter what he wants. If wishes were horses, everyone would be a rider. Heâs pretty sure that one of his former co-pilots had said that - in regard to Jihoon being impossible to work with, of course.Â
The dark and quiet of his room brings the peace Jihoon craves. He feels the tension melt from his shoulders. He suddenly realizes how tired he is, feeling like parchment stretched too thin over a rough surface. He peels himself out of his clothes methodically, welcoming the chill of the room against his sweaty skin.Â
He trails to the shower, tossing his clothes in the hamper as he does. Leaving the lights on so itâs only the dull orange glow over his bed, he turns on the shower as hot as it will go. It takes a second, but soon steam is filling the room, choking him as he slides under the stream of water, sighing as the heat of it burns away any lingering frustration for the day.Â
Tomorrow, heâll have a new partner. Itâs a simple fact and a routine he is familiar with. Thatâs fine with him - they can keep assigning people to him until they find someone competent. Jihoon isnât going anywhere.Â
He has nowhere else to go anyway.Â
-
âI need you to do me a favor,â Kira says before you can finish stepping out of the jaeger. The Marshall of the Sydney Shatterdome looks deadly serious. You scoff under the helmet, reaching up to unclasp it and shuck it off. Fresh air fills your lungs. Itâs hot and tastes like metal in the jaeger bay, but itâs familiar. âAnd I need an answer quickly.â
âEver heard of foreplay?â you grunt, helping Maya out of the giant mech behind you. She shoots you a thankful grin, taking off her helmet. Her face is flushed pink, hairline sweaty. âYou really just dive in dry, huh?âÂ
âYou know my cousin is a Marshall of a Shatterdome overseas?âÂ
You pause. âYeah.âÂ
âTheyâre asking for a skilled pilot to pair with one of their Rangers. They sent over the drift profile and youâre the only pilot we have thatâs a match.â You frown and she holds out a hand to stop your protest, a crease in her mouth. âJust look over the report and the profile I sent you, alright?âÂ
âI mean, my answer is no. Iâm fine here.â
âYou are. Youâre one of our best teams,â Kira says earnestly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Maya. âBut respectfully, your value is needed elsewhere. There isnât enough activity here to keep a veteran of your status on shift, Blue.â
You feel a flicker of uncertainty. Rarely does Kira use your nickname. Itâs too familiar for a military commander of her status, and though youâve considered her a friend for years, she never uses your nickname on shift. Unless she really needs something from you. Â
Licking your lips, you hesitate to answer. You donât want to say sheâs right about your skillset and risk insulting your coworkers and other pilots in the jaeger Program, but itâs an accurate statement. The Shatterdome you report to is old - one of the first built in the beginning. But kaiju activity is mostly unpredictable, shifting with the tides. You barely get them once a month anymore, and there are too many pilots who need the practice.
You donât.Â
You glance at Maya and she offers a soft smile. âHey, I didnât think youâd be my co-pilot forever. Hoped, maybe. But I didn't expect it.â
âOh come on, Iâm with you for life, Maya.âÂ
âRomantic.â Mayaâs gaze softens. âMarshall has a point, though. Weâre a little⌠slow here.âÂ
It makes a pang go through your heart. Maya has been your co-pilot since your mother passed away, and though you didnât go through the Ranger training program with her, sheâs the perfect balance to you. You like having her around, and the thought of changing pilots just because someone wants your experience is⌠unideal.Â
Sensing your unease, Maya reaches out and touches your forearm, squeezing over the metal of your Drivesuit. Her smile is soft. Knowing. Like she knew that being in the drift with you wasnât forever, and sheâs already saying bye.Â
âLook,â Kira sighs, bringing your attention back to her. âMy cousin really needs a skilled pilot and someone who is a leader and isnât afraid of working with veteran pilots. They get more activity, and they need someone sharp. Skilled. Strong.âÂ
âI mean, Iâll look over the papers.âÂ
âThank you.â She steps away. âI need to know by the end of the day, though.â
âJesus Christ, Marshall. End of the day is in like two hours.â
Her smile is firm. âI know.âÂ
Waving her off, you leave your jaeger behind, Maya trailing after you. She peppers you with encouragement as you walk, steps heavy on the metal catwalk. You donât respond right away, thoughts trying to catch up with being thrown an offer immediately after slamming a monster back into the depth of the ocean just minutes ago.Â
You donât have to ask why you. Drift compatibility alone is important enough to move jaeger pilots around the world from Shatterdome to Shatterdome in order to make the best pairs possible. There arenât a ton of pilots - especially among the younger ones - at your base that are compatible with you.
Stubborn, Kira had always said. Finding an equally dominant co-pilot that meshes with you is difficult. You suspect that if you were not extremely talented at what you do and a veteran at your base, they might have moved you to an advisory position a long time ago.
Advising is not for you, though. The grind of metal and the heat of the fight is where you thrive, letting your mind go empty, entirely driven by instinct. Instinct was the reason you were so good at fighting kaiju. Your mom had always said you had the instinct of a warrior, and after putting down as many monsters to protect humanityâs coasts, you had to agree.Â
Maya immediately goes to the shower once you reach your shared room. You dive onto the bottom bunk, snatching the tablet sitting on your night stand. Your eyes squint from the brightness, sensitive in the dim room. Clicking through your emails, you find the reporting and profile from Kira and open it, information unfurling before you.Â
âHuh,â You muse, raising your brows as Lee Jihoon appears on your screen. âI know your name.âÂ
His profile is impeccable - and so is his skill. Chewing on your lip, you throw yourself onto your cot and flip through all of the materials provided on your potential co-pilot. Veteran Ranger. Highly skilled in combat. Top of his class in the academy.Â
Clicking on the attachments, you watch the attached videos. Thereâs clips from his fights in and out of the suit. You find yourself hypnotized by his fighting style. There is a beauty to it, but itâs absolutely lethal. Efficient. There are no extra flourishes, no showmanship. Lee Jihoon fights to kill.Â
âSo why do you need me?â you mutter to yourself, pulling up his past partners. The list is extensive, stretching back to multiple co-pilots over weeks at a time. âJesus christ. You do not play nice.â
He must not, at least. Half of the pilots assigned to him are only barely compatible. You know it takes more than just matching fight styles, but based on the history glowing at you from the screen, Jihoonâs Marshall was doing anything they could to keep him, even if it meant pairing him with someone who was scoring as low as 54% compatible.Â
Pulling up your side-by-side analysis, you whistle. 98% was a good fucking number. Youâd only ever had 90% with your mom, and she was genetically linked to you. Still, with as many partners as Jihoon has had in the past year alone, you donât know that itâs worth it, even if his base has more kaiju activity and looks to be in need of veteran fighters.
Sighing, you close the tablet and throw it on the pillow. Resting your head against the metal wall, you close your eyes, thinking. Youâre happy where youâre at. Youâre a leader here, and you like Maya as your partner. Sheâs young and eager to learn - and you like your jaeger. Shadow Stalker is a good suit, though a little older.Â
Biting your lip, you grab the tablet again, opening the jaeger details on Jihoonâs profile. Newer model. Built for endurance. Equipped with multiple blades, suited for pilots who prefer sword-style fighting. Sheâs painted gray-blue like the deepest part of a storm - blue like your motherâs first jaeger, which makes you grin.Â
Storm Breaker. Itâs a good name for a jaeger and it matches the profile. Sheâs built to withstand the brutal waves of the deep ocean and the onslaught of a high-category kaiju. Your interest is piqued, curious about Storm Breaker and her brutal pilot.Â
Closing the tablet again, you stare into the distance, thinking. âWhatâs your deal, Lee Jihoon?âÂ
-
Jihoon hates sparring with Chan almost as much as he hates sparring with Wylie. Chan doesnât scratch at Jihoon like a feral cat like Wylie might, but he does bite, which is exactly what he does when he canât get out of Jihoonâs hold.Â
âYou fucker,â Jihoon hisses, letting him go. Chan slips out of Jihoonâs grasp and rolls to his feet a few feet away, crouched low and ready to go again. Despite years of being a jaeger pilot, Chan nor his co-pilot have fallen out of their scrapy upbringings, fighting like two street orphans. âWhat, are you going to bite a kaiju if you can?âÂ
âOf course not. I just donât like losing to you.â
âToo bad.â Jihoon straightens and lifts his fists, planting his feet firmly. Sweat slicks the back of his neck, wispy pieces of hair escaping his hair tie and sticking to damp skin. âNo more biting.âÂ
âNo promises.âÂ
Somewhere behind him, Jihoon hears Minghao shriek. âShe bit me!â
Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite.Â
Chan comes at Jihoon again. Heâs a good fighter and heâs ruthless. Itâs one of Jihoonâs favorite things about him. But thereâs always an opening, always a moment between fluid movements that reveals itself that Jihoon can take advantage of.Â
He does exactly that, going on the defense, watching and waiting for the moment. When it reveals itself, Jihoon strikes lightning fast, catching Chan in the chest hard and taking him down to the ground. Jihoon feels the wind leave Chanâs lungs as he coughs hard, head smacking the mat.Â
Behind them, Jihoon hears the collective wince. Chan is dazed for a second, groaning underneath Jihoonâs hand pressed to his chest. He can feel the hammering of Chanâs heart, a little faster than his own. When itâs clear Chan isnât going to claw at him, Jihoon stands and offers him a hand.
With a heaving sigh, Chan takes it. Jihoon claps him on the back, grinning as Chan tries to catch his breath, rubbing the back of his head. âThat hurt.â
âOops.â Chan looks over Jihoonâs shoulder and grins, causing him to turn around and follow the youngerâs gaze. Wylie sweeps her feet under Minghoâs, knocking him to the mat. She pounces like a creature from hell before he can react, pinning him down. âWell, at least one of us didnât get our ass beat today.âÂ
âStop biting, Dino,â Jihoon says as they trail off the mat, a warning. Chan has the decency to look chagrined, bowing slightly to his superior. Jihoon adores the kid, but he will not serve as a chew toy.Â
Grabbing a water, Jihoon sits down on the floor with Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Seokmin as Junhui and Minghao trade places. Minghao is nursing a scratch on his neck from Wylieâs nails, muttering about her being a demon straight from hell as he sits. Wylie gives her new opponent a wicked grin, taking her place on the mat and beckoning Junhui toward her. Jihoon shakes his head, gulping down water and leaning back on his hands.Â
âFresh blood,â Soonyoung notes, gesturing toward the training room entrance as the Marshall leads a group of people in. âTheyâre holding trials for the two new mark fives tomorrow. Wanna go?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
Soonyoung laughs. âCome on, they might be looking for another partner for you too.â
âDonât care.âÂ
âYou canât keep going through partners, man.â
Jihoon doesnât react, eyes scanning the group of cadets. They all look fresh-faced and in awe as theyâre led around the mats, wide eyes glued to the sparring pilots as they go. His eyes settle on you, though, pausing.Â
You donât have the same awestruck wonder as the other cadets, trailing behind them as your eyes scan the structure, the fighters and the equipment around you. Calculating. Critical. Youâre a little older than the other cadets too - not in looks but in aura, chin lifted, gaze sharp. Experienced.Â
Soonyoung follows Jihoonâs line of sight and straightens. âWoah. Who is that?âÂ
âMy new drift partner,â Seokmin sighs dreamily. Soonyoung and Seungkwan smack him at the same time, offended. Theyâre one of the few triple pilot groups, operating a massive piece of machinery made for slaughtering and hammering down on high-grade kaiju. âWhat? Look at her!âÂ
âYou shouldnât fuck your co-pilot,â Seungkwan mutters. âLook what happened to Seungcheol and Cherry. Sheâs still at that training facility in Alaska. Didnât come back after their drift glitched.âÂ
A collective hum goes through them. All of them recall that situation, but no one says a thing. The weight of Cherryâs absence sits heavy on them - even Jihoon misses her a little.Â
âI donât know,â Soonyoung notes cryptically, eyeing Wylie. Sheâs managed to get Junhui off his feet, slamming him down with a rattle of mat and springs, pinning him with a savage growl. Wylie Coyote indeed, Jihoon thinks, smirking. âSeems to work for Wylie just fine. God, look at Chan, he literally has heart eyes. Disgusting.âÂ
Itâs true. The pilot in question sits at the edge of the mat, elbows resting on top of his knees as he watches his girlfriend with his mouth open, lips upturned a little. His eyes are dazed, focused on Wylie as she holds onto a thrashing Junhui. Thereâs so much love in his gaze that Jihoon averts his eyes, worried heâs observing something sacred and private. Â
âNot everyone is like them,â Seungkwan shoots back. âThey share a brain cell.âÂ
âWeâre literally drift partners. We basically do the same thing.âÂ
âAnd yet I donât want to fuck you, Hoshi.âÂ
Soonyoung cocks his head to the side. âYou know, that brings up a valid question-â
âNo,â the other three say at the same time, cutting him off before he can get going.Â
Still, Seungkwanâs point is valid. The drift is something that is so intimate that it isnât uncommon for copilots to have a romance or some sort of tension. The neural handshake makes you become one, unable to hide anything. It is inviting someone else into your head to see everything you see, everything you have seen. Memories, feelings, thoughts - nothing is yours anymore.Â
Jihoon hides it all from his co-pilots. He knows heâs not supposed to - openness and being honest and true with your partner makes for a better drift. But the intimacy of the connection makes him uncomfortable, and heâs not ready for anyone to see him - really see him.Â
So he hides in the drift. Knows how to bring nothing to it, to give only the parts of himself he has to in order for his partner to fight alongside him. Jihoon gives nothing more. And they donât need it, frankly.Â
The Marshall leads the new recruits back out of the room. He watches you go, wondering what your deal is. As though you sense his eyes on you, your eyes flicker over to his, catching his gaze. Heâs unsure why, but he pauses, the room stilling for a split second. Then youâre grinning wickedly, vanishing from the room.Â
He brushes it off and turns his eyes back to his friends.Â
-
Lee Jihoon is prettier in person. You donât know why itâs the first thing you notice as you watch him walk across the training center. Heâs dressed in fitted cargo pants and a racing jacket over a t-shirt, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair is bleached and pinned into a low bun, some of his bangs hanging in his dark eyes. He doesn't notice you watching him as he nears an empty mat, shedding the jacket.Â
Heâs compact. Small, but toned, muscles rippling as he begins to go through a series of stretches. You know heâs a good fighter from your observations the day before. Everything about him screams efficiency. You canât put your thumb on it, but the way he carries himself is methodical.
Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper.Â
Itâs the partners that he has a problem with. Heâs had eight co-pilots in the last year alone, which is more than anyone has the right to. Before that, he managed to keep someone for six months before they requested a transfer to a different location.Â
You sense Jihoonâs gaze, realizing heâs picked up on your staring. His expression is as neutral as it was yesterday, as though he has zero interest in whoever you are. He must not - he turns away and gets back to what he was doing, the moment passing without fanfare.Â
Everyone in the room is paired with their pilots, going through fight sequences. You watch the different pairs, noting those who exhibit high-drift compatibility and others who are still learning. You note how many talented pilots this base has, likely due to the high activity.Â
As though the thought summons the very creatures from the depths of the ocean, an alarm goes off. You donât flinch, used to the kaiju alert system. It had gone off the day before, though. You look up at the screen as it flashes the names of the pilots on duty, calling them to report to the drop bridge.Â
A few shouts of good luck draw your attention to the center of the room where two of the younger pilots head out. Youâd seen them sparring earlier, so in time with one another that you werenât sure where one began and one ended. The man looks at the girl and gives her a smile so full of love that you look away, startled at its intensity.Â
While romantic connections between pilots arenât totally uncommon, youâre not used to it. Most of the Rangers at your old base were family members and childhood friends, connection deep and intimate but not like that. You wonder what it must be like, if it makes love any easier to be that deeply connected.Â
âSo are you my new co-pilot?â a soft voice startles you and you turn to see that Jihoon has snuck up on you. His eyes are darker in person, entirely consuming as he looks down at you with a cocked head. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. âYou must be, right?â
âWhat makes you think that?â
âYouâre not a cadet. And youâve been watching me for the better part of two hours.âÂ
You shrug. âYou can learn a lot from watching veterans.âÂ
âYou could at least offer to spar to see if weâre any good together.â
âYou mean to see if Iâm good enough for you.â He lifts a shoulder, not disagreeing with you. Wiping your palms on your knees, you stand up. Even though heâs small, youâre still a little shorter than him, nearly eye level. You stick your hand out, giving him your name. âBut you can call me Blue.â
Instead of taking your hand, he nods and turns on his heel, striding back to the mat he occupied earlier. You stand and stare at the newly vacated spot, hand held out in the air. âAlright,â you mutter to yourself, dropping your hand and going after him.Â
Eyes follow you. You can feel them as you trail after him, watching his smooth, even gait. Everything about Jihoon is refined and controlled, even down to the minute expressions as he steps onto the mat and turns to face you. Sliding your shoes off, you join him, feeling the spring beneath your step and the softness of the floor.
Jihoon heads to a rack of bo staffs, picking one up and tossing it to you. You snatch it, spinning it lightly to test the weight. The balance is near perfect, a slight weight to the left side. You adjust accordingly, grip firm. Jihoon does the same, spinning his staff and rolling his shoulders.
âWho were those pilots called to make the drop?â you ask, conversational.Â
âDino and Wylie.âÂ
âGood pilots?âÂ
He takes his stance. âExcellent. Theyâre terrors. It wonât be a problem for them. Are you right handed or left handed?â
âAmbidextrous.â
âGood.âÂ
You donât know why, but his assessing gaze bothers you suddenly. Like you know that even though you know youâre an excellent fighter, it still wonât be enough for him. The thought that youâve lost before you even begun pricks a nerve and you strike first.Â
Itâs immediately obvious why youâre compatible. Jihoon knows your next move before you know what it is. You feel him move like an instinct, imagining his attack and defense before it happens. It isnât a fight, but a dialogue, two skilled fighters communicating in a pattern only familiar to them.Â
Sweat slicks the back of your neck and back. You barely register it, losing yourself in the rhythm of Jihoonâs movements. The sound of the training gym fades to the background and you barely hear the crack of your staffs as they meet over and over again. You hardly see him, vision fading to a narrow point of instinct.
This is how you fight. Muscle memory, driven by intuition.
Your intuition tells you that youâre perfectly matched, fighting style so similar that itâs hard to get a hit in - you wonât get a hit in, too in sync with him to out maneuver him.Â
So you deviate.Â
Instead of dodging a smack to the ribs, you let him hit you. His surprise is so apparent that he breaks his concentration and you strike, foot sweeping behind his ankle and pulling, knocking him from his feet. Jihoon goes down hard, breath leaving his lungs as you pounce, pinning him.
For a second, itâs just the two of you. His heart pounds, chest heaving in time with yours. Even your breaths are evenly matched, a tempo that is deeper than most human understanding. Drift compatible. You feel it the same way you feel the spark of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. Youâre so aware of it that you donât hear what he says at first, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.
âWhat?âÂ
âThat doesnât count,â he asserts. âI hit you first. The fight is over after that.â
You frown. âThe fight doesnât end until thereâs a killing blow. A swipe to the ribs wouldnât do it.â
âThat isnât how that works.âÂ
âThere are no rules of engagement in the ocean.âÂ
He scowls. âThere are basic principles to fighting. You lose when you get hit first.â
âDo you lose when a kaiju hits you first? Or do you keep fighting?âÂ
Jihoon huffs underneath you, shaking his head. Youâve still got him pinned, your palm pressed to his chest and your knee planted in his stomach. He glances away from you and you become aware that everyone has stopped to watch the two of you spar.
And youâre still on top of him.Â
Clearing your throat, you climb off of him smoothly. You offer a hand to help him up but he doesnât take it, getting up on his own. Heâs flushed, cheeks tinged peak and mouth twisted in frustration. You watch him as he gives the room around you a cutting glance, making everyone immediately turn back to what they were doing.Â
Jihoon puts his staff back and you watch him. He looks minorly irritated on the surface, but you can see it rippling deeper than that. Heâs unsettled and it makes you grin.Â
âThis wonât work,â Jihoon says as he turns back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his biceps flex and blink at him in confusion. âYou canât be my partner.â
âWhat? Weâre compatible. That was one of the best fighting flows Iâve ever had.â
âWeâre too different in principle.âÂ
That gets a frown from you. âI donât think so at all. You let your instinct guide you. So do I.âÂ
âYou deviate.âÂ
âI let the natural dialogue of the fight lead me.â
You let silence fall between you. You can see why so many other pilots had issues with him. Jihoon approaches every statement as though it is the absolute truth, a fact that cannot be disproven. He speaks with the authority of someone who knows heâs right often, and frequently goes unchallenged.
Instead of letting him get a rise out of you, you switch topics. âAre you hungry?â
He pauses. âWhat?âÂ
âWhat part of the question didnât you understand? Are you hungry?â
Jihoon is perplexed. Youâre sure that by now, mostly people have visibly grown upset with the combative dialogue. You donât mind much, watching as he thinks on your question. You take the opportunity to appreciate the gentle slope of his nose up close, the delicate curve of his mouth, the contrast of feminine and masculine features that make an exquisite face.Â
Then Jihoon unfolds his arms and walks past you. You turn to follow him but he says over his shoulder, âI donât want to have lunch with you. Weâre not friends.âÂ
Thereâs no room for argument in the way that he says it. You watch him as he leaves, never once turning back.Â
-
You are vexing.Â
There isnât another word to describe you. Jihoon hasnât the slightest idea how youâve managed to so thoroughly irritate him at your first encounter, but he canât stop thinking about how frustrated he is when he slams his tray down on the table.Â
Itâs a little early for lunch, mostly engineers and staff going on shift soon filling the room to eat quickly. The giant clock above the entryway to the cafeteria resets and Jihoon relaxes a little, confirming that Chan and Wylie are fine. He knew they would be - a Category Two kaiju is nothing for a pair like them.
Jihoon finds himself thinking of you. Of what you must be able to do in a jaeger.
Curious, Jihoon looks up your name. It rings a bell - you were pretty renowned at your homebase. Clicking through videos, he sets his phone on the table as he eats, eyes glued to the screen. Your drops are easily accessible to him, clicking through them as he eats.Â
There is something hypnotizing the way you and your old co-pilot Maya Veliz fight. Youâre efficient and without flashy moves, which he can appreciate. But thereâs a speed at which you make decisions and take risks that has him shaking his head.Â
Yet, there is something vaguely familiar. He pauses his meal to watch closer, realizing what it is. There is a brutality to your fighting that he recognizes in himself, a need to kill. You fight to win, willing to take a little damage if it means you can deal the final blow.
The thought unsettles him. Your fighting style is so similar to his that he would be lying if he tried to say otherwise. There is logic and calculation to your moves, but then thereâs always that deviation. That random blip in your pattern that is unexpected and dangerous.Â
âWill watching my drop footage make you like me more?â
Your voice startles him. He drops his fork and it clatters against the table, loud in the soft din of the cafeteria. Youâre leaning over him, a smirk on your face and a devilish glint dancing in your eyes as you look at his phone screen where you successfully put down a kaiju.Â
âDeathclaw wasnât very impressive. It was pretty small. My mom and I took out Umbraxis my first year, though.â
Jihoon snatches his phone and locks the screen, putting it face down. He scowls down, feeling his heart flip a little. Your scent drifts over to him at your proximity, a mix of amber and jasmine. Itâs already familiar to him, having caught the scent when you pinned him down earlier, hand pressed to his heart-
You sit across from him and he looks up at you. His mind goes blank, staring as you unwrap your silverware picking up a fork to stab a piece of chicken and pop it into your mouth. You hum happily, totally unaware - or maybe unbothered - at his increasing irritation.Â
âTell me about your jaeger,â you demand - not ask. Your eyes find his, two pools of curiosity that have his tongue heavy, words sticky. âI want to know all about her.â
âYouâre not going to make the drop with me.â
The curve of your mouth is wicked. âTell me anyway.â
For a few minutes, Jihoon doesnât answer. He waits to see if the silence will push you away or make you anxious. It doesnât seem to. You keep eating without saying anything else, occasionally glancing at him with a cocked brow as if to suggest you have all the time in the world.Â
âShe was re-outfitted two years ago,â Jihoon says slowly. He doesnât know why heâs answering you at all, but he continues, âMark-5 now with the new outfitted tech - sheâs still nuclear-driven to avoid any EMP attacks. Outfitted with GD6 steel-obsidian chain swords on each arm, but there are also smaller, detachable blades for hand-to-hand fighting, along with some projectiles. Sheâs also got a lightning strike powered by the nuclear-core but it can only be used once, and only as a last resort. It obliterates local wildlife in the water.â
âWhatâs the suspension look like?â
âGyro-stabilizers to stay fluid when fighting and L-10 locks on all of the joints to strap in and withstand damage. Sheâs built to take a lot of blunt-force and melee attacks, but sheâs top heavy if she loses footing.â
âHave you only been in Storm Breaker?â
He nods. âSince my first drop.â
âSheâs beautifully built.âÂ
Jihoon doesnât respond. It does bring him a small sense of pride to know that you admire the jaeger he fights in, but he doesnât thank you. He suspects you notice but doesn't say anything, which surprises him. You seem like the stubborn type who doesn't like to back down from a fight, and yet multiple times this morning youâve conceded to him, refusing to get upset.Â
It bothers him. He canât tell if itâs because youâre a people pleaser or if you think you're gentle-parenting him, and he doesnât like it either way.Â
So he doesnât talk to you. He lets the conversation die there, despite sensing your amusement from across the table. He feels the grip on his fork increase, metal biting into his palms as he tries to ignore you. He can smell the jasmine and amber of your perfume, which makes him feel more insane, and he canât help but steal glances at you and dart his eyes away.
Youâre pretty. Heâs had attractive co-pilots before. Thatâs not new, nor has it ever bothered him. Something about you draws the eye, though. He thinks itâs the aura of confidence you give off, effortlessly comfortable in your skin and your situation, despite Jihoon not making it any easier on you.
âHi,â The raspy voice interrupts Jihoonâs thoughts and he looks up as Wylie slams her tray down on the table. Sheâs sweaty, freshly peeled from her Drivesuite and offering a hand to you as she gives her full name. âYou can call me Wylie, though. Everyone does. Are you Wooziâs new co-pilot?â
âYes,â you answer at the same time Jihoon says no. âThough I didnât know that was the name he preferred.âÂ
Wylie shoots him a sly grin and sits down next to him. He curses and scoots over, the younger girl nearly on top of him as she leans her elbows on the table. âHe doesnât prefer it, which is why it stuck. He's a very cranky cat, but heâs nice once you get to know him.âÂ
Jihoon scowls, turning to her. âDid I invite you to sit down with us?â
âNo.âÂ
Thatâs it. Thatâs the end of her statement. Jihoon watches as she settles happily, opening chocolate milk and chugging it back like itâs water. Jihoon cringes and readies to lob an insult her way when heâs interrupted again, another tray slamming down next to hers.Â
Closing his eyes, Jihoon summons all the gods he doesnât believe in to give him the god damn patience. Chan is wearing a shit-eating grin as he leans across the table, offering his hand in the same, chipper manner his partner had moments before.Â
âIâm Chan. But you can call me Dino.â
âWhy Dino?âÂ
âI step on everyone.âÂ
You raise your brows, amused, eyes flickering to Wylie. Sensing your question, Wylie says around a mouthful of mac and cheese, âLike Wylie Coyote because Iâm a menace who doesnât stop attacking.âÂ
âHow was your drop?âÂ
âEasy,â they say in unison.Â
Jihoon focuses on his plate, feeling grouchy. They start to talk like heâs not even there, and though that is typically how conversations go around him, heâs suddenly bothered by it. Especially when you seem so smug that at least someone likes you.Â
He wants to tell you they donât count. Chan is one of the nicest people in the Shatterdome and will talk to anyone, if they give him the time of day. Wylie isnât exactly nice but sheâs in love with Chan and is happy to be nice to anyone who is being nice to him. The pair are relatively easy to win over.Â
It only gets worse for him when Soonyoung and the others start sitting down. Everyone seems eager to ask you questions, a new shiny toy for his friends to play with. He chews on the corner of his lip, feeling stormy in the corner of the table as Seokmin peppers you with questions and exclamations at your answers.Â
A shift in tension makes Jihoon look up. Seungcheol sits down at the table slowly, as though trying not to be a distraction or catch any attention. Heâs three seats away from Wylie and out of her eyeshot, but Wylie is a born predator, sensing him like a hunter. Her eyes cut over to Seungcheol and she bristles, shooting up to her feet to grab her tray and storm off.Â
Chan sighs, muttering a brief apology before grabbing his things and going after her. Jihoon glances at Seungcheol, watching the way his jaw ticks at the interaction. Surprisingly, you donât ask any questions. You lean over to Soonyoung and ask him about some of their earlier fights, shifting the energy at the table from tense to light in a second.
Seungcheol relaxes, and though he doesnât introduce himself, heâs not unkind to you. Jihoon feels a pang for the pilot, knowing that the last year has been difficult for him. Cherry left Seungcheol adrift without a partner, and heâs been unable to find someone to replace her.Â
He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative.Â
Jihoon does learn a little bit about you while listening to everyone talk, though. You've only had two co-pilots in your life where Jihoon has lost count. He wonders what growing up piloting with a parent feels like, and though you smile as you talk about growing up working with your mom, thereâs a tightness to your mouth, a look in your eye that he canât place.
Feeling his gaze, your eyes shift to him. Jihoon realizes heâs been staring at you. He stands and leaves the table abruptly, Seokminâs voice apologizing on his behalf drifting after him.Â
Thankfully, you donât follow him. He dumps his tray and leaves it in the discarded pile for the cafeteria staff and immediately begins the climb to the command bridge where the Marshallâs office is. His thoughts race but go nowhere at the same time, an echochamber that he canât untangle.Â
Before Jihoon can knock on the entrance to the Marshallâs office, the military commander looks up and waves Jihoon in. âI was about to call for you. Shut the door, please.â
Jihoon does so without comment and sits down. He glances around the office, distracting himself as the Marshall finishes what he was working on. The office is orderly and tidy, every ounce the professional and uptight officer that sits in front of Jihoon, leaning back in the seat to sigh heavily and level Jihoon with a stare.Â
Before Jihoon can open his mouth to list all of the reasons you shouldnât be his pilot, the Marshall speaks. âYouâre on probation.âÂ
âI - what?âÂ
âFor the next three months, if you lose your co-pilot, you will be reassigned to administrative work or to a new Shatterdome.â
Jihoon opens his mouth. Closes it. The weight of the Marshallâs words donât quite sink in, though Jihoon can tell theyâre heavy. Real. âWeâve given you plenty of chances to effectively remain a pilot for Storm Breaker, but the board feels as though the trade off has become an issue.â
âThe trade off?â
âYouâre costing us money. And cadets. People want to train where they can potentially see themselves become a pilot. When we have open spots and jaegers coming up on retirement, it bolsters recruitment.â The Marshall levels him with a tired stare. âBut when we have a pilot who no one can partner with, it puts us in a bind to send cadets where they will fit elsewhere.âÂ
âLook - â
âNo you look, Lee. Youâve been a pilot here for six years. Thatâs considered a veteran in this field. But the higher ups grow tired of even veterans when theyâve been unmanageable for the last two of those six years.â
Heat flashes up the side of Jihoonâs neck, equal parts embarrassed and angry. Heâd been the first in his class to suit up, selected as Haneulâs co-pilot to fill in for their partner that had retired. Jihoon remembers how proud - and nervous - he was and how easy it had been to partner with Haneul.
He didnât have that anymore, the safety net of the only parental figure heâd ever known gone.Â
âThe pilots youâve paired me with have no business being in a jaeger,â Jihoon says matter of factly. âI donât respect them.â
âWell good thing weâve given you someone to respect.â
Jihoon shakes his head. âI canât fight with her.â
âYou can and you will. Your drift compatibility is 98% and you have similar fighting style and come from similar machines. Youâll start Conn-pod training tomorrow.â
âDonât make me partner with her. I donât like her.â
The Marshall stands. âOne day you might learn that if you give people a chance, youâd like what you find.âÂ
âMarshall-âÂ
âThatâs all, Ranger.âÂ
The air feels heavy as Jihoon leaves the Marshallâs office. He stops on the command deck, his eyes flickering over to the windows. The glass is floor to ceiling all the way around, giving the tower a 360-degree view of the pacific ocean. Blue stretches out as far as the eye can see, backdropped by the shining silver of the city.Â
Boats bob on the water, shifting back and forth on the dark surface. Air teams go back and forth, working in the aftermath of Chan and Wylieâs successful kaiju destruction. Jihoon can see the toxicity on the surface of the water, an oil slick that he knows the exact pungent smell of.Â
Trailing to an observation window, he stares with unseeing eyes. How many times had he stood up here and provided commentary to his friends during a fight? He didnât frequent the command deck, but sometimes it gave him perspective. Or he was a little worried about his friends, especially when they were taking on higher category kaiju.Â
Jihoon chews on the side of his lip. Heâs talked Wylie and Chan through plenty of bouts before. He remembers sharply the terror of the fight that had changed all of their lives over a year ago, watching as the hull of Fang Striker was breached, the screams of terror as Wylie took a talon to the stomach, nearly killing her. The aftermath of Chanâs grief.
A chill breaks out over his arms. Jihoon knows he isnât cut out to sit through something like that again, to try and get a panicking pilot to focus and get to safety. Heâs not made for an advisory role. Not built to watch pilots come and go, completely operating out of his control.Â
Death is easier to process in the heat of battle. It gives him an excuse to be distracted, to hide from the immediate pain of losing a pilot during a fight because heâs too busy protecting himself, protecting the city. Heâs not made to watch it from afar and take the full weight of it.
Turning away from the window, Jihoon descends back down to the ground floor.Â
Probation period. Three months of having to stomach you or heâs out. Flexing his fingers, he heads to his room, needing the silence. If Jihoon is going to do this, he knows he needs to keep himself in line. Canât push you away like he has the others.Â
And he hates you for it.
-
Music bleeds through the metal door out into the hall. You wonder how any of the neighboring rooms let him get away with it. Then again, Lee Jihoon seems like someone most jaeger pilots donât go toe-to-toe with often, if they can help it. At least itâs classical music, the swelling sound of Mozart sweeping into the hallway as you open the door, propping it with your hip to haul the box in your arms through.Â
Jihoonâs eyes snap open immediately. Heâs lounging on the bottom bunk of the bed in the far corner of the room, face lit by the glow of the muted screen in the corner showing the rain and ocean spray beating against the Shatterdome. Nothing disturbs the seas at the moment, though you wonder in a hotspot like this how long that will last.Â
A scowl twists his mouth. You let the door shut behind you, setting the box down on the media table by the doorway. âMozart?â you ask, arching a brow. He glares at you, sitting up from where he had been lounging with his hands tucked behind his head. âA bit cliche, donât you think?âÂ
âWhat do you know about music?â
âEnough to know that someone with balanced compositions that orchestrate total control and logic in its make is⌠not surprising for you.â He blinks in surprise. âI like Tchaikovsky. Thereâs something more mercurial to his compositions.âÂ
âTchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.â
âI didnât say one was better than the other.â You smirk. âYou donât like differences of opinion, do you?â
âI always value opinions. Some more than others.â
âMhmm. Where can I put my things?â
Jihoon closes his eyes and lays back on the bed. His blonde hair is undone, fanning around him in a silvery-white halo. âThe trash chute, preferably.âÂ
âWherever I want, got it.âÂ
He ignores you. You suppress a laugh and move into the room proper. Itâs small, filled with only the essentials to house two people to eat, sleep, and shower. A small kitchenette sits to your left, hidden in darkness with all of the lights off. You spot a shelf filled with dry goods - mostly protein bars - and coffee. There is a sad excuse for a sitting area with a tiny table and two chairs next to the TV screen, a bunk bed with a wardrobe next to it, and a tiny bathroom.
Cozy.Â
Pulling open the wardrobe, you see that thereâs room for your things. You shoot Jihoon a sidelong glance. He certainly hadnât moved his things over to take over the full wardrobe after his last pilot left. You wonder if heâs just used to being unable to use the full space or if he had made room for you.
You doubt itâs the latter.Â
Ave Verum Corpus plays in the background as you unpack the tiny box that is your life. You hum along, shutting the wardrobe and padding over to the bathroom. Jihoon could be asleep for all you know, but you suspect heâs not. When you glance over at him after shutting the medicine cabinet, you see his foot tapping to the beat of the music.
âWhat other kind of music do you like?â His foot stops tapping at your question.
Turning off the bathroom light, you move to the door to break down the cardboard box you brought your things in. Jihoon doesnât answer at first, his frame rigid with tension, as though he had forgotten you were there until you spoke. You suppose thatâs entirely possible, if not a little unlikely.Â
Just when you think heâs not going to answer, he mutters, âI like ballads.â
âRomantic.â He frowns but doesnât say anything further. âWhatâs your favorite one? Or artist?â
âGo play twenty questions with someone else. Iâm not interested.â
âIâm going to find out anyway.â He opens his eyes then. Theyâre dark, pupils blown as his face twitches in an almost snarl. âIt is an inevitable fact that we will have to drift. I recommend making peace with that now.âÂ
âIâm going to bed,â he announces, flopping over on his side and crossing his arms.
You let Jihoon be mean. It does you no good to fight with him when you eventually need him on your side, and you can sympathize with him to a degree. He didnât choose you as his pilot and heâs backed into a corner, a do or die situation that he canât back out of. The only way is forward and itâs against his will.Â
As he pretends to sleep, you occupy yourself on the top bunk with your tablet, sliding headphones over your ears so he doesnât bitch you out. Flicking through online channels, you familiarize yourself with your fellow jaeger pilots at the Shatterdome, watching fight footage and interviews.Â
You come across a set of popular pilots, only one of them familiar to you. You recognize the man from dinner earlier - he had sat down and the tension around the table had increased tenfold. Wylie had immediately clocked his presence and stormed off, Chan trailing behind her with an apologetic look.
Tapping on their information, you hum in interest to yourself. Seungcheol. You recognize the name, vaguely. He piloted Duellona Fury with his copilot, a woman you donât recognize but that has a bright smile. They make a good team, totally in sync and feeding off each otherâs energy. You wonder where she is now, assuming sheâs the source of the tension between Wylie and Seungcheol.
You wonder what you and Jihoon will be like as drift partners. So far he seems to hate you, but he does tolerate you. Itâs a start, if not ideal. You wonât start drifting right away - not for real anyway. Practicing combat drills and learning more about one another is the first step to any partnership, followed by practice drifts.
In the drift, thereâs no room for hatred or enmity. Trust is paramount, but almost as important is respect. Respect for what you see in the thoughts and feelings of your partner, respect that theyâre good at what they do and that theyâre the best person for the job, respect that they are your equal. Too many partners get lost in trying to save the other, losing sight of being equally capable or feeling like they know better.Â
Jihoon doesnât seem capable of that. Not right now, anyway. It doesnât matter, though. Youâre his only option to stay in the jaeger program, and though he hasnât said anything about it, youâre pretty sure he knows.Â
âCan you shut the tablet off?â Jihoon grunts from below. You sigh heavily, tucking it to your chest. âThe glow is fucking bright.â
âThe TV is also glowing, Jihoon.âÂ
âYeah, so your tablet adds to the general light in the room.â
âClose your eyes.â
âIt isnât helping. Go under your covers.â
Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in, you lock the tablet and shove it under your pillow. âBetter?â
âYes.â
Weather the storm, you think to yourself. Jihoon is angry and capricious, but itâs more to do with his situation than it is to do with you. And despite his snappy nature, there are flashes of him willing to work with you by answering questions, albeit with attitude.Â
You can do this. You can make Lee Jihoon like you. Maybe even respect you.
-
You are not a morning person. Lee Jihoon, however, is a morning person. Which is why it takes everything inside of you not to launch your pillow at him when you hear the classical music wake you from sleep in the morning, making you lift your heavy head to look around the room, vision blurry.
Heat from a fresh shower drifts from the bathroom only a short distance away. You stare in confusion, blinking rapidly as Jihoon walks out of the bathroom. Heâs brushing his teeth furiously with one hand, looking at his phone with the other, blue light making him look like a phantom in the dim light.Â
And heâs dressed in nothing but a towel slung low on his waist, making you nearly go catatonic.Â
Itâs not like you havenât seen a body before - itâs just a body, and soon enough, youâll be in his head. Itâs important to get any weirdness out of the way because in the drift, youâll bare everything. But for some reason the image of his small, compact body scrambles your brain this early in the morning.
Jihoon is built like a weapon, all sleek lines and hard muscles. He stands in the kitchen, setting down his phone as he opens cabinets and starts to make coffee, toothbrush still in his mouth. The muscles in his back flex as he moves, skin pale and smooth as the moon.Â
âAre you a coffee person?â he asks, because he knows youâre awake. Of course he does. You donât answer for a moment, stuck between eyeing the narrow taper of his hips and the question that implies heâs willing to make you coffee. He turns, arching a brow at you. âNow you shut up?âÂ
That brings a scowl to your face. âYes, I drink coffee.âÂ
âGreat.âÂ
He goes back to what he was doing, ignoring you entirely. Dragging your eyes away from him, feeling flushed and overwarm, you throw the covers back, scrambling from the top bunk. You land with a soft huff, feeling the chill of the concrete floor as you dart to the wardrobe to pull out clothes.Â
âWhat time is it?â
âYou have eyes, look at the TV.â
Got it, you think. Heâll make coffee for you but not do something as simple as answer what time it is. You do look at the TV, seeing the darkened feed of the churning ocean breaking against the walls of the Shatterdome. There are multiple camera angles, weather radar and Dome messages that break up the screen into sections. The time is in the top corner, flashing 5:13 am.Â
âJi, it is five in the morning.â
âFive-thirteen. And donât call me Ji. Iâm not your buddy.âÂ
Taking a deep breath, you mutter curses under your breath. âIâm going to shower.â
As expected, you get no response.Â
The great thing about living in a billion dollar buildinding with hundreds of people is that thereâs no shortage of hot water. Youâre grateful as the steam fills the room, hot water making your coiled muscles melt the second you step under the shower. You let the frustration from the morning fade away, the rush of the water and the feel of it sluicing down your back-
A loud knock on the door breaks your reverie. You hear it open. Jihoon grunts, âI wasnât done brushing my teeth. I need the sink.â
âThen use the sink.â
Jihoon shuffles into the bathroom. You hear the faucet turn on and you go back to tilting your head backward under the stream of water, ignoring the sound of him going about his morning routine. In a way, itâs sort of peaceful, the sounds of him softly opening and closing cabinets and the clinking of jars against the counter soft in the background.Â
Heâs back in the kitchen by the time youâre out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. You venture out into the main room in kind, deciding that if he is going to walk around in nothing but a towel, so will you. He barely gives you a glance from his bottom bunk, lounging around in low-slung sweats with no shirt, blonde hair splayed on his pillow. You ignore him in favor of the lone mug of coffee sitting in the kitchen steaming.
Gripping it and bringing it up, you let the ceramic warm you from your palms upward, inhaling before taking a tentative sip. Itâs bitter but it helps you wake up. You glance at Jihoon from over the lip of the cup. He scrolls on a tablet mindlessly, as though heâs forgotten youâre there.
Neither one of you speaks as you finish your coffee. Turning to the sink, you start washing the cup out. You notice his used mug sitting in the bottom of the sink and pick it up, wash it and put it in the drying rack next to yours without thinking about it before returning to the bathroom to dress fully.
Once dressed and out of the bathroom, itâs almost six. Jihoon is bent over by the door, his boot on the coffee table as he laces it. Now fully dressed, his long hair is pulled back in a bun, a few silver whisps escaping and falling across his face. Again, youâre struck by how beautiful he is for a moment.Â
He straightens and looks at you, raising his brows. Instead of answering him, you hurry to the wardrobe, pulling out your boots to slide them on and head to breakfast. You half expect him to leave you behind, but to your surprise, he lingers with the door open, dark eyes clocking your every movement. As soon as youâre done tying laces, heâs out the door and charging again, leaving you to scramble behind him.
Silence follows you into the cafeteria, which has the quiet atmosphere of an early morning. Workers and pilots ending their shifts sit at the table, scarfing down breakfast for dinner. Early shift workers hurry to grab a bite before heading off to the different parts of the Shatterdome. Itâs not nearly as loud as lunch or dinner, but the soft din is inviting as you go through the line, following your new co-pilot wordlessly.Â
None of the friendly faces from yesterday are in the cafeteria, so the two of you sit alone. Jihoon is methodical as he sets up his breakfast, each move calculated and precise. He eats the same way, finishing something entirely before moving on to the next time.Â
His obsession with organization and control is almost fascinating, if not a little worrying. Instead of asking about it, you eat in silence, humming delightedly at the cheesy hashbrowns made available that morning. He casts you a single annoyed glance when he notices you enjoying your meal.Â
Breakfast goes without a fight, though. Glancing at the large clock above the entrance to the cafeteria, you realize you only have a few minutes left before your day of training starts. Jihoon seems to be on the same wavelength, pulling out his phone to scroll through your schedule.Â
âMeditation first,â he murmurs. He shoves his phone in his pocket and stands without preamble. âDo you think you can manage meditation?â
âPerhaps you havenât noticed, but we havenât spoken for over an hour.â
Confusion crosses his face, quickly followed by astonishment. He hadnât realized that most of your morning has been spent in silence. His brows pull together, mouth turning slightly as he works over your words. It seems to make him unhappy. He narrows his eyes and his mouth twists before he turns and marches away from the table, leaving you behind.Â
Mouth quirking, you follow quickly, not wanting to lose your way to wherever it is youâre supposed to report to. He walks faster this time, determined to keep you moving and on your toes. Wherever the studio designated to you for the morning feels like itâs halfway around the world. Jihoon leads you down a series of halls and stairs, never slowing his pace once.
By the time you get to a small, soundproof room, your calves are burning.Â
âYou need conditioning,â he mutters, noticing the way youâre a little out of breath.
âYou basically just took me on a light jog,â you protest. âI think itâs fair to be a little winded this early in the morning.â
âIt doesnât matter what time it is. What will you do if we make the drop at four in the morning?âÂ
Jihoon doesnât wait for you to answer. Instead, he goes to the middle of the room and sits down on the floor, and crosses his legs. Instead of taking his bait and picking a fight with him, you sigh and stride into the room. He positions himself, ready for you to sit in front of him. Instead, you circle around him, sitting down behind him.Â
âWhat are you doing?â he asks, twisting toward you.
âMeditating. Turn back around so we can be back-to-back.â
âWhat? Why?â
âJust trust me.â
âI donât.â
âWell, try. Itâs easier to feel your breaths and your heartbeat this way. Plus, there's less pressure if you donât have to look directly at me.â
âThank god for that,â he mutters.
You roll your eyes at the barb but grin when Jihoon listens, twisting back around to face the front. He lets you settle against him, the warmth from his back melting into yours. He is rigid, his spine solid as it digs into yours for a second. You lick your lips, feeling electricity shiver down you at the contact, like thereâs a spark.Â
The hum of the air condition is the only sound in the room. You close your eyes, leaning into Jihoon so that you fit flush together. You match your breaths with his, feeling your breathing slow down. Your heart slows to, like itâs trying to let him catch up, both of you melting into the same rhythm.Â
Behind you, Jihoon relaxes. The back of his head rests against yours, both of you leaning into the touch, becoming the equal opposing force holding the other up.Â
Balance is imperative in co-pilots. Jihoon needed to bring to the fight what you lacked and vice versa, the two of you making something whole, something complete. Itâs a balance thatâs not easily achieved, and though youâd always been a good pair with your mother and then maya, you know instinctively that itâs nothing compared to Jihoonâs counterbalance.Â
A timer goes off in the room, startling you with how quickly time has passed. You blink your eyes rapidly, letting the room swim back into focus. For a second, neither one of you moves, content to lean against the other until Jihoon seems to realize heâs still pressed against you. He scrambles to his feet unexpectedly and you fall backward, losing his counterweight immediately.Â
Thunking against the floor, you glare up at him. He smirks, looking down at you as he wipes dust from the back of his pants. âYou should never let a co-pilot fall,â you huff, hauling yourself to your feet.Â
âGood thing weâre not really co-pilots.â
âYet,â you supply. You get up, stretching and feeling your joints pop. âEven you canât deny that it was a great first meditation session.â
âLetâs go. We have sparring.âÂ
-
Jihoon doesnât like you.Â
He doesnât like you, but he has to admit you are a perfect fit for him. You are loud where he is quiet, you make light when he remains serious, and you deviate when heâs planned. Yet somehow, you manage to mesh with him in your training, the perfect opposite force to him.
For the most part, you leave him alone. He can tell youâve figured out when to bite back and when to eat your words. Itâs become a game to him, throwing insults your way to watch whether youâll riposte back or swallow your pride.Â
The amount of times you swallow your pride impresses him, unfortunately. His original assessment that you are unpredictable and uncontrolled was wrong. He can see the way you actively meet his cold winter with warm summer, trying to melt him.Â
He doesn't like giving you credit for your control, but he does so begrudgingly.Â
Worst of all, he realizes that itâs not you he dislikes. Itâs his situation, itâs knowing that youâre his lifeline and he has to accept you, and itâs knowing that despite his initial dislike, youâre a mirror that he canât look away from. It doesnât help that you live two feet away from him at all times, occupying every moment of his life just a reach-of-a-hand away.Â
Training is tiring. It feels like heâs a rookie all over again, going through the exercises as the two of you learn to fight together, moving through meditation sessions, sparring, talking sessions - which don't really involve a lot of talking on his part as much as yours - and drop simulations.Â
Drop simulations are the most exhausting for him. You bring everything to the drift. Itâs nearly overwhelming at first how much youâre willing to show him. From the moment the mental bridge connects the two of you through the simulation software, Jihoon is shocked at the way you lay yourself bare. You hide nothing from him, letting him roam around your thoughts at his leisure.Â
He feels everything youâve ever felt. Elation when you make your first real drop with your first co-pilot, your mom. Sore ribs after a particularly difficult sparring match when you were a teeager in the training program. Pride when you finish the top of your training program. Terror when a fight goes awry and your mother overwhelms you in the drift, taking the full neural load of the jaeger to protect you. Rage at her doing so.Â
âWhat happened here?â he finds himself asking, sticking near the memory.Â
He thinks you wonât answer him, but of course you do. Unlike him, youâre open for the taking. âThe hull was breached in my first year of fighting. My mother panicked because it was on my side of the jaeger and she tried to take on the neural load.âÂ
Jihoon says nothing. Piloting a jaeger alone overwhelms the nervous system and the brain, which is why each jaeger has two pilots in the first place. It can be done, but the risk for damage is always present. He senses where your conversation is going.
âWe only piloted together for three more years after that. She was starting to struggle to make the drift, so we paused to get her examined. They discovered lesions on her brain and linked it to the damage from that day she tried to pilot alone.â
âShe wanted to protect you.â
âShe did, but it doesnât make up for what she did. I was her equal, not someone she was supposed to protect.â You look at him and he looks at you, surrounded by your memories in the drift. âI am deserving of treated like an equal.âÂ
He understands what youâre really saying, that he should treat you like an equal too. Instead of responding, he busies himself with studying other parts of you that you let him have.Â
There is a melody to your mind that he enjoys, though heâll never tell you so. The more you drift together, the more Jihoon realizes that you are exactly like a Tchaikovsky piece. There is an organized chaos to you, a mathematical formula that is logical and measurable, but that deviates from the norm once in a while.Â
Every drift, you remain open to him, your thoughts for the taking. You donât even hide the moments youâve thought of him - both in occasional attraction and irritation. Irritation at him bringing nothing to drift, opening no part of himself to you. Irritation when heâs mean to you. Hesitant fondness when he does something nice. Confused attraction when he walks around in just a towel.Â
Water sluices down his back. Jihoonâs thoughts are still foggy from three weeks of nothing but practice and drills. He also finds it harder to sleep sometimes in the room, his dreams filled with the scent of your amber and jasmine and the lively sound of Tchaikovsky acting as the soundtrack to his dreams.
Youâre still asleep when he exits the bathroom. Heâs made sure to turn the light off before opening the door, steam billowing out after him. He scoops headphones from the nightstand as he heads to the kitchen, towel snug around his waist. He pops the earbuds in, the sound of Mozart starting his morning as he begins to make coffee.Â
Jihoon has quickly learned that the longer he lets you sleep in the morning, the less whiny you are when you wake up. Instead of playing his music out loud, he lets you sleep until heâs made two cups of coffee, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and milk to yours. He sets it on the table and walks back to the bathroom, one of the requiem pieces carrying him through his routine.Â
On the way to the bathroom, he stops by your bunk. He hesitates for a second, drinking you in as you sleep. Nestled in that top bunk is the only place youâre as peaceful as you are in the drift. Your features are smoothed out as you slumber, mouth open a little, drool sticky on the corner of your mouth. Jihoonâs lips twitch a little and he shakes his head before reaching out to tap the ankle hanging off your bed. You mumble in response.Â
âGet up,â he says gruffly. âYouâve slept long enough.â
He returns to the bathroom and shuts the door to get fully dressed. He knows youâll be standing in the kitchen looking dazed and confused sipping coffee until he comes out and frees the bathroom for you to shower.Â
The alarm for a kaiju alert goes off. He hears it blaring over his music and he pulls the earbuds out, opening the door half dressed in just pants as he looks at the screen flashing red. A Category Four kaiju has been sighted in the bay. His heart skips, knowing that Cat-4 kaiju are dangerous even for the most skilled pilots at the Dome.Â
Assignments flash across the screen. Solar Saber and Fang Striker have been summoned to drop. Nervousness flutters in Jihoonâs stomach. He snatches a shirt and yanks it over his head, moving quickly around the room to grab boots.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, leaning off the counter.Â
âHeading to the command deck. Come or donât.â
âIâll come.âÂ
You dump your coffee in the sink, jumping to action as you peel off your pajama pants, searching for cargos. Jihoon hardly realizes youâre changing in front of him - heâs seen it all in your head anyway - as he laces his boots. He doesnât know why, but he starts to explain himself, âDino and Wylie have a⌠history with Cat-4 kaiju.âÂ
âYou want to be an extra set of eyes and ears.â He nods at the accurate assessment. âGot it. Run me through Solar Saber drop stats if you know them.â
Jihoon does. He fires off what he knows about the team. Their stats are fine, but a Category Four kaiju is new for them. They have a good jaeger. Itâs on the newer side, nuclear powered with plasma cannons and a massive plasma sword that burns brighter than the sun, earning the machine its name. Itâs piloted by a set of twins, which produce some of the best drifts in the jaeger program.
But thereâs a nervousness in Jihoonâs stomach that he canât place. Everytime his friends drop, he knows theyâll be okay - but he also knows the level of danger. Perhaps itâs because of Chan and Wylieâs accident last year or because theyâre dropping with a team Jihoon doesnât trust, but he suddenly wants to tell the Marshall to let Storm Breaker do the drop.
A hand brings him out of his thoughts. Your gaze is as calm as the surface of a lake, piercing. âWeâre ready, if we need to be.âÂ
Of course you know what heâs thinking. Despite his best efforts, you seem particularly good at stitching the tiny threads that escape through Jihoonâs wall of ice. Â
You drop your hand and grab the room keys, heading toward the door with top speed. His arm is warm where your fingers were a moment ago, burning like a brand. He shakes it off as he follows you out, both of you jogging up to the top level of the Shatterdome to observe.Â
Crew races around the dome. Jihoon sees Seungkwan and Vernon rushing up the stairs to the command deck. He follows suit, you quick on his heels. People fill the room, talking over one another as they shout into headsets and screens flash different camera angles.Â
The Marshall stands in the center of it all behind the LOCCENT Mission Controller who will walk the pilots through the fight. Jihoon doesnât recognize the man giving them instructions, but he joins the wall of people standing behind him to observe the screens, taking a place next to Vernon and Seungkwan.Â
You glance at Vernon and back to Jihoon, a question in your gaze. âThis is Vernon,â Jihoon says in response. âHeâs currently a jumphawk pilot. Could be a jaeger pilot if he could figure out the drift but heâs too screwy up top.âÂ
âThanks, man.â
âYou can call me Blue,â you offer. Your eyes drift to the screens. âFriends of the pilots out there?â
âWylie is one of my best friends.âÂ
Instead of telling him something like theyâll be alright or offering words of comfort, all you do is nod. Jihoon respects that. Anything comforting would be a potential lie and useless in a world of blood and metal, salt and fire.Â
The entire room falls into a steady cadence. Jihoon crosses his arms as he focuses on the screen. Heâs mutely aware that youâre standing so close to him he can feel the heat of your arm, hands shoved in your pockets as you watch the screens, brows furrowed in concentration.Â
On screen, Solar Saber churns the water toward a towering kaiju in the bay. The creature is straight out of a nightmare, a barbed tail whipping across the surface of the ocean, misting water as it does. From what Jihoon can tell, itâs got four legs, each equipped with long talons. Rows and rows of teeth reveal itself as the kaiju opens its mouth and roars, the vibration from the sound so deep that it vibrates underneath his feet.Â
âI donât like that tail,â Vernon mutters next to Jihoon.Â
âItâs like a manticore.â Jihoon glances at you. Youâre not looking at them, but your head is tilted in curiosity as you point to the screen. âFour legs, a curved tail with a barb. The webbing around its neck suggests it might have a frill.â
âStrike teams, confirm positions,â the LOCCENT controller says into the mic.Â
âFang Striker in position two miles north of kaiju and Solar Saber.â Itâs Wylieâs raspy voice that crackles over the shared radiowave with the jaeger teams. âPerimeter is set.â
âSolar Saber ready to engage,â a female voice comes over the speaker. Jihoon recognizes it as one of the twin co-pilots, Jezzi.Â
âPermission to engage.âÂ
As Solar Saber engages with the kaiju, the command deck goes quiet. People guiding the helicopters and ground teams speak softly into their mics, a level of tense calm washing over as everyone watches the fight ensue.
Solar Saber is beautiful to watch fight. The armor is painted radiant gold and the glow of the sword is magnificent against the stormy waters as it slashes at the kaiju. Jezzi and her sister Yaz are calm throughout their bout, their voices clear and communicative as the kaiju batters them.Â
âCut off the tail,â you mutter under your breath. âItâs going to-â
Jihoon sees what you do as soon as you say it. While trying to kill the kaiju with a direct blow, Solar Saber has forgotten about the tail. The tip of the tail shivers, reminding Jihoon of a cat ready to strike, and it does. One moment, Solar Saber and the kaiju are locked in a wrestling match. Next, the tail is hammering the hull of the jaeger, striking over and over again like a scorpion.
Chaos explodes on the screens. Jihoon holds his breath as red flashes across the screens as the tail breaches the hull of Solar Saber. A tingle settles over him, the buzz of nerves as he watches Solar Saber take a knee, ocean water surging around the jaeger as the kaijuâs tail continues to hammer the jaegerâs head open.Â
Jihoon grabs the LOCCENT Controllerâs chair and yanks him backward out of the way, jamming his finger against the button to speak. âDonât let it force you under the waterline,â he barks. âCut off that tail, Solar Saber. If it forces you down, youâre going to take on water and drown.âÂ
âThe right panel is damaged from acid from the tail,â Jezzi yells over the comes. âSword arm cannot engage.âÂ
âThen disengage, Solar Saber. Do not let it force you down another knee.âÂ
Yaz screams back something incomprehensible over the comms. The left arm of Solar Saber lurches, reaching for the kaijuâs tail. It catches, yanking at the appendage hard. The kaiju screams as the tail breaks where Solar Saber has it gripped. The kaiju frenzies, screaming wildly as frills - just like youâd predicted - shake to life by its head, vibrating back and forth in a threat display as its dismembered tail whips back and forth, spraying ichor.Â
âFang Striker engaging,â Chanâs voice comes over the comms.
Itâs the Marshall who answers. âFang Striker, hold the perimeter.âÂ
âFuck the peremiter,â Wylie seethes.Â
The Marshall turns to you and Jihoon. âWeâre ready,â Jihoon says at the same time as you.
A string of curses leaves Marshallâs mouth. âFang Striker, assist Solar Saber with the intent to disengage. Storm Breaker dropping in ten.âÂ
Heart hammering, Jihoon turns to follow you out of the command center, footsteps like thunder as you sprint to the jaeger bay. He doesnât even think twice about dropping with you, any reservations about you vanishing as the fighting instinct takes over.Â
Youâre an entirely different person when you step onto the catwalk, your team already scrambling with pieces of your Drivesuit. There is an eerie calm about you. You meet his gaze head on as your team fits armored pieces of Drivesuit onto your arms. Jihoon sees himself reflected so clearly that heâs startled.Â
âWhat?â you ask, sensing the bewilderment.Â
âShow me what youâre made of,â he says simply.Â
Your mouth curves in a wicked grin and you nod once, understanding.Â
Storm Breaker is beautiful. The fondness for her sweeps over him as he steps into the cockpit. The screens come to life, casting blue and red glow all over as he steps into the Conn-pod. He sheds any reservations he has as the team helps him connect. Youâre only a few feet away, stepping into the left side of the Conn-pod.Â
Jihoonâs world shifts to screens and canned voices in his headset as the shield of his helmet closes. Itâs Seungkwan he hears over comms saying, âEngaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.âÂ
âDo the pilots always take over the LOCCENT Controllerâs here?â you muse, just to Jihoon.Â
His lips twitch. âWhat can I say? Seungkwan knows Iâm a control freak.âÂ
âEngaging neural handshake in three⌠two⌠oneâŚâÂ
The world around him goes mute for a moment. Jihoonâs vision flashes white for a second. He feels you then, your thoughts and feelings becoming his. Theyâre not overwhelming though. He feels focus and determination from you with an undercurrent of ferocity. All of your memories and other feelings are there too, but they exist in the background. Youâre a seasoned pilot, Jihoon doesnât have to worry about you chasing the rabbit and falling down a hole of memories.Â
âNeural handshake holding and strong,â Seungkwan calls. âInitiating drop in three⌠two⌠oneâŚâ
Jihoonâs stomach flies into his throat as he falls away from the world. The world is nothing but freefall for a few seconds. He feels the thrill that shoots through you and smiles - he canât help it. Bending at the knee, he braces for impact. You do the same, and the cockpit lands on the jaegerâs mainframe with a metallic clang.
âCalibrating right hemisphere,â Jihoon announces, feeling the machine start to power to life. âCalibrated.âÂ
You repeat on the left side, the full machine powered on and ready with both hemispheres locked in.
âStorm Breaker ready to pursue,â Jihoon says. He looks up at the screen where Fang Striker is engaging the kaiju. Outside of Storm Breaker, he might feel his heart race with panic. Solar Saber is overturned and he has no idea if the pilots are inside of it as it takes on water. âTwo miles out from contact.âÂ
âPursue.âÂ
Your first step as a team is perfect. Fluid. Jihoon knew it would be. He hates to admit that he was wrong, but he knows it is. There is a thread of satisfaction bleeding over from you as Storm Breaker charges into the ocean, water rising rapidly around the waist.Â
Ocean water slams against Storm Breakerâs chest as you charge toward the fighting. Fang Strikerâs comms are patched in, but Wylie and Chan are silent as they rip at the kaiju, pulling at one of its wings that it unfolded from its back. Fang Striker looks tiny against the hulking mass of the monster, but its team is doing what it does best, savaging the creature a little at a time.
âStorm Breaker half a mile out,â you announce, voice like steel. âReady to engage.âÂ
âEngage at your discretion.â
âStorm Breaker,â Chan says over comms. âTry and restrain this motherfucker. Weâve got a loose plate in its armor to exploit but it keeps shaking us off.â
âHeard.âÂ
As if hearing Chan, the kaiju flings Fang Striker off. Fang Strikerâs red body crashes into the ocean, Wylie cursing the kaiju straight to hell and about fifty other foul places.Â
Storm Breaker engages, both you and Jihoon plunging into the fight. The kaiju swipes at you but you both duck together, dodging the swing as you punch hard from the left in tandem. You knock it hard, itâs head snapping to the side. As a team, you use the opening to wrap the right arm around the kaijuâs neck, squeezing it toward Storm Breakerâs chest in a headlock.Â
Stabilizers and locks click into place. He grits his teeth, as though feeling the actual strength it takes as the kaiju roars and claws at Storm Breaker, trying to free itself from the headlock. Together, you put the left arm around it, adding to the force to keep the kaiju from slipping from your grip.Â
Clawed blows hammer down on Storm Breaker. Neither of you gives way, tightening your grip on the creature and ignoring the way the talons scratch against the hull. Storm Breaker is built to withstand, and neither one of you flinches as furious blows rain down on you, fists hammering.Â
âIt looks like that kaiju is playing you like a bongo,â Wylieâs voice comes over comms. âHey Woozi, do you feel like itâs composing one of those songs you like?â
âOh sure,â he shoots back. âTake your time, Wylie. Itâs not like itâs trying to crack us like an egg.âÂ
âUgh,â you sigh. âDonât talk about food. I didnât eat breakfast. Hey Seungkwan, can you ask Joshua to save me some hash browns? Heâs always at the cafeteria first.âÂ
Jihoon rolls his eyes. âYouâre all insane. Any day now, Fang Striker.âÂ
Fang Striker appears from the sky like a creature from hell, a red streak of death as it falls. They land on the kaijuâs back, the force of the landing vibrating through Storm Breakerâs frame. The kaiju tries to twist in Storm Breakerâs arms, but you and Jihoon tighten even further. Fang Strikerâs sword glints in the sunlight as it unsheathes.Â
âDonât stab us,â you say at the same exact time that Jihoon has the thought.
They almost do. Fang Striker buries the sword through the back of the kaiju, the tip of the blade peaking through its chest, almost scraping against Storm Breakerâs stomach. The monster thrashes wildly for a few minutes, clawing at Storm Breakerâs hull. Fang Striker hits the release on their sword, leaving it embedded in the kaijuâs back to stand and fire into the kaiju with plasma cannons.Â
Jihoon feels the tremor of the shots land. Thereâs a final kick from the kaiju before it slumps, putting all of its deadweight on Storm Breaker. In unison, you and Jihoon throw the creature off of you. It lands with a crash, water surging around the creature as its weight drags it down before buoyancy pulls it back up.
Storm Breaker straightens, standing in the open water with a battered Fang Striker a couple of yards away. Panting, Jihoon looks across the Conn-pod where youâre already looking at him, shield on your helmet up as you grin at him. There is unguarded happiness there, nearly as bright as the sun that glints off Storm Breakerâs helm.Â
âSo,â you ask the group. âCan we get hashbrowns now?â
Jihoon realizes at that moment he doesnât dislike you at all.Â
-
âWould you slow down?â Jihoon asks, setting his tray down next to you roughly. He plops in the seat next to you, giving you a severe side eye. âYouâre going to throw up the second you hit the treadmill eating that fast.â
âI want to get more bacon before they run out,â you whine. âThey wonât make more once itâs gone.â
Uncovering the top of his tray, Jihoon reveals a heap of bacon slices. You oggle as he sets it between the two of you, shaking his head and scoffing. âYeah,â he huffs. âI know. I brought more, so slow down.â
Affection for your co-pilot warms you. The affection is certainly one-sided, but you donât mind. In the four months youâve been co-piloting with Jihoon, he still hasnât opened up to you.
Despite having made the drop five times together, Jihoon still brings almost nothing to the drift. You catch pieces of him, tiny snippets of memories or emotions or thoughts as you become one. You slowly use them to fit together the pieces of the Jihoon puzzle youâve been working on every day.Â
It helps that you live in such close proximity, too. Jihoonâs habits speak far more for them than his words ever could. Like the way he wakes up at the same exact time every day and tries to be asleep at the same time every night, or the way he meticulously cleans your shared living space every Sunday, or the way he starts every sparring session with the same eight-stretch sequence.
He still doesnât talk about him in your time slotted for getting to know one another. Itâs not therapy exactly, but every pilot team has designated time daily to talk things out. To work through things that are bothering them, or to talk about themselves. The more pilots know one another, the better they fight.
You know virtually nothing about Jihoon. He doesnât talk about himself during sessions, so you talk for him. You tell him about your childhood, about piloting with your mom, about how much you miss Maya. He eventually starts asking questions. Provides responses.
âWeâre on the drop schedule tomorrow,â Jihoon notes, flicking through his tablet on the table next to him. âItâs graveyard shift. Do you want me to ask Mingyu and Wonwoo to switch to the day shift?âÂ
âNah, Iâll be fine.â
He gives you a critical look. âYouâre awful in the mornings.âÂ
âNot when Iâm fighting.â You snatch more bacon. âWould you rather me or Mingyu in a jaeger at two in the morning?â
âPoint taken.â Both of you know the only person more miserable than you in the morning is Kim Mingyu. Jihoon nudges you with your elbow and gestures to the bacon. âFinish up. We have to workout soon.âÂ
âUgh.â
He smirks. âCardio day.â
âJi, no.â
He ignores the nickname. âSo much running.â
Now you know heâs doing it on purpose. There are few things in your training schedule that bring Jihoon joy like torturing you during scheduled workouts. He had started slating them each day, determined to harden your conditioning despite the fact that youâre already in decent shape.
Decent is a word in his vocabulary. He only expects perfection and even then, youâre pretty sure itâs unattainable. Still, you finish your breakfast and let him lead you to the gym, peppering him with whining and protests the entire way. He ignores them with a placid smile, hands linked behind his back as he walks.Â
When you get to the gym, there are other pilots and workers using their free time to exercise. Thereâs only a single treadmill open, which Jihoon gets on easily. You start to edge your way toward yoga mats with the intention of not working out at all when he leans over to look at the time on the treadmill next to him.Â
âYouâve been on it for an hour,â he grunts at some boy who looks like a cadet. âOff you go.â
The cadet scrambles off, almost forgetting to turn the treadmill off before he does. He bows in respect before shooting off like a frightened school of fish. Jihoon turns to you, grinning as he pats the machine. âFor you.âÂ
âThanks,â you deadpan. âJust what Iâve always wanted.âÂ
Jihoonâs grin only grows when you step onto the treadmill as he leans over the rail and turns it on, pressing the incline and speed buttons until youâre walking at a warm up pace. Which, for Jihoon, is a solid jog.Â
As you jog, you fish out headphones from your pocket. You pop them in your ears, careful not to trip as the sound of classical fills your ears. Youâve taken to using Jihoonâs playlists, despite originally making fun of him for it. You find that it distracts you more than you thought it would, and it helps that you feel like a character in a fantasy movie running to an epic soundtrack.
Youâve adopted a lot of things that Jihoon does. It happens naturally, especially the more you drift. You find yourself putting on Mozart instead of Tchaikovsky or taking your coffee black on accident or scolding others in the training room for not being precise and perfect.Â
Ghost Drifting is what some call it. You donât think youâre quite there yet, being that Jihoon still hides half of himself away. But sometimes, even outside of the drift, you feel him in your mind like a phantom presence.Â
After your workout, you go through the same day you have everyday: meditate back to back, sparring, and your talking session, which mostly consists of you both sitting next to one another looking over your drop footage and noting areas for improvement.Â
Jihoonâs shoulder is pressed against yours, his eyes focused on the tablet in your hands, tracking the slowed down movement of the video. He taps the screen, pointing to the right side of the jaeger that he pilots. âI was a bit slow here.âÂ
âItâs not your reaction time, youâd never punch that slow. Thatâs the arm that took damage two fights ago against Razorbill. Letâs talk to the J-Tech team and see if thereâs a delay in the receptor. It might be a split second off.â He snorts and you glance sidelong at him. âWhat?â
âYou donât think Iâd punch slow?â
âNo.âÂ
Jihoon raises his brows. You can feel his surprise at your seriousness to his question. He obviously expected you to turn it into a harmless jab, but you mean it when you say, âYour reaction time has been perfect for the last sixteen drops youâve made. If thereâs a delay, itâs the machinery. Not you.â
He looks away from you, nodding once. The tips of his ears are red and he mutters, âThanks.âÂ
Instead of pressing the matter like you want to, you smile and hit play again, both of you focusing on the screen once more to talk through the remainder of your allotted bonding time.Â
In your room, Jihoon turns on the speakers, the sound of Pas de Deux from the Nutcracker floods the room. You pause by the wardrobe where youâre shucking your boots off, gazing at Jihoon as he moves into the kitchen silently, taking out two mugs, a box of peppermint tea and a kettle.Â
He doesnât feel your eyes on him, going about making tea for the both of you. He hums along to the song - you donât know when he became so familiar with it, his movements comfortable. Practiced. Relaxed. A swell of affection overtakes you, realizing you donât know when he started making you tea. Or putting on Tchaikovsky for you. Or not biting at you every two seconds.Â
Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You turn away from him, busying yourself with your boots to spare him from making an excuse as to why heâs making you tea. Because youâll know heâll give one, provide you with some sort of excuse that it isnât a favor or because youâre friends, but rather something like the tea bags are too large for one or I have to boil the water anyway.Â
When youâre done changing for bed, heâs standing next to you, mug extended. He doesnât look at you, instead finding interest in the cameras outside the Shatterdome. You take the mug from him and say nothing, knowing heâd rather you not thank him.Â
Mug in hand, you climb carefully into the top bunk, crossing your legs as you nestle the mug next to you, pulling out your tablet to read. He gets into bed without a word, both of you existing in comfortable silence, just like Jihoon prefers.Â
-
Alarms wrench you from sleep. Youâre thrown forward in your bed, red flashing on the TV as the kaiju alert system wails. You wipe sleep from your face as you haul yourself over the edge of the bunk, landing next to Jihoon who is pulling off his sweats in favor of cargo pants as quickly as he can. You feel dizzy and off balance as you do the same, shoving one foot in your pants and hopping on one leg as your foot catches while trying to shove in the other.
Jihoon grabs you by the elbow, holding you steady as you shove your foot through the leg of your pants and shoot him a grateful look. He nods, letting you go to finish zipping his pants and digging around for a shirt. He canât seem to find one, cursing under his breath as he roots around. You toss him one of yours instead, grabbing a pair of socks and throwing yourself onto his bunk to yank them on, quickly followed by shoes.Â
âFuck,â Jihoon mutters as he looks up at the screen, the red painting him in hellish light. âWeâve got a Cat-4. Theyâre dropping Emperorâs Mandate and Fang Striker with us.âÂ
âDino and Wylie werenât even on rotation.âÂ
âTheyâre not making the same mistake they did with Solar Saber.â He pulls out a tablet, squinting against the glow. âWe're the last line of defense. Hao and Jun will take point with Fang Striker.âÂ
âGot it. Letâs go.â
You take off at a jog, easily keeping pace with one another as you go. There are jaeger teams moving about the building getting ready, the alarms still sounding as you navigate to the jaeger bay. Your team is already there and ready to fit you into Drivesuits, sliding each piece of armor on with practiced care.Â
Jihoon catches your eyes from where he stands across from you, letting a team member slide his hand into a metal glove. His eyes are dark as the stormy sea outside, a bottomless well that you canât seem to dive down into, but want to. His lips twitch a little and he gives you a nod, which youâve come to understand is Jihoon for I trust you.Â
Screens blink to life as you enter the Conn-Pod. Closing the front shield of your helmet, you immediately turn on open comms, listening as the Marshall and LOCCENT Controller on duty - you think itâs Nainsi - talking Minghao and Junhui through their neural handshake.Â
The spine of your Drivesuit connects to the Conn-pod, your heads up display coming to life. You feel the metal whirring and clicking into place, rotating your shoulders and flexing your fingers as your jaeger team finishes connecting Jihoon to the Conn-pod before exciting and shutting the door firmly.
âStorm Breaker ready to drop,â Jihoon announces.Â
âEngaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence,â Nainsi answers. âEngaging neural handshake in three⌠two⌠oneâŚâ
Itâs like jumping off a cliff into freezing cold water. You feel the flash of cold, vision going white for a split second before you feel Jihoonâs calm flow through you. Heâs steady like an icy river, his thoughts, feelings and emotions hidden down in their dark depth where they canât bother either of you.
Youâre like rapids, rushing thoughts and feelings, pouring everything through the drift at him. He takes it in stride, used to the white-capped rush of information he gets from you each time you connect. Jihoon adjusts easily, already hitting buttons on his screen as images from your day flash through your mind - including you watching him make you tea in the kitchen.
Jihoon says nothing about that. He says nothing about the gentle wave of your embarrassment either as Nainsi says, âNeural handshake strong and holding.â
Chanâs voice crackles through comms. âFang Striker on standby for neural handshake.â
âCopy. Storm Breaker prepare for drop in three⌠two⌠one.â
Dropping feels like falling through the core of the earth. For a few moments, itâs a flightless feeling as you fall through the Shatterdome. Then you land, knees absorbing impact as the head of the jaeger falls into the neck socket, locking in.
âCalibrating right side,â Jihoon announces. âCalibrated.â
âCalibrating left side. Calibrated. Ready to engage.âÂ
Nainsi confirms calibration and directs, âStorm Breaker, take north point defense two miles from the shoreline. Hold that line. Fang Striker, engaging in pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence in three⌠two⌠one.âÂ
You tune out the rest of Fang Strikerâs drop as you and Jihoon behind to charge into the bay. The windshield in front of you immediately froths with sea salt and wind, battering down on the jaeger as the night sea surges against Storm Breakerâs legs. You cut through the water like a knife, carving your way toward the defense line as the jumphawk team flies into place.Â
âFive minutes until surface breach.âÂ
âOh! Hi, Vernon,â you chirp.Â
âSup?â
âWould kill for a coffee right now. And like, a bagel. Or hashbrowns?âÂ
Vernon groans. âMood.âÂ
Jihoon snorts but says nothing. Minghaoâs voice comes over the comms, soft and cool. âBlue, everytime I drop with you youâre talking about food.âÂ
âHave you considered that Ji doesn't feed me?âÂ
âSo itâs Ji now, huh?â
âDonât get her started,â Jihoon grunts at Minghaoâs teasing. âOne mile out from the line of defense.â
Chan joins the conversation, voice chipper. âFang Striker ready to pursue. Also, good morning everyone!âÂ
Everyone groans in misery collectively instead of greeting him back. Wylieâs voice cracks like a whip as she spits out, âBe nice to him.âÂ
Everyone greets Chan after that. Jihoon shakes his head, amused. âFang Striker, escort Emperorâs Mandate to engage. Four minutes until surface breach.âÂ
Black ocean ripples outward in front of Storm Breaker as you move. You near the defense line, the city lights like a sea of stars at Storm Breakerâs back. Air support circles overhead, monitoring kaiju activity and helping with positioning. You see the spotlights glinting on the surface, waiting for a kaiju to surface.Â
To the east of your position, Fang Striker and Emperorâs Mandate cut through the water. Fang Strikerâs red paint is violent against the night, but her build is small next to the towering white fury of Minghao and Junhuiâs jaeger.Â
âStorm Breaker in position,â Jihoon calls. You both stop moving, your jaeger coming to a standstill as the water sloshes around your waist.Â
âStandby, Storm Breaker. Kaiju breach in one minute.âÂ
âEmperorâs Mandate and Fang Striker in position. Ready to engage.âÂ
âEngage at your discretion.âÂ
Comms go silent as the strike team waits for the kaiju to appear. Itâs the calm before the storm, the silence pregnant with tension. You feel a tentative brush of Jihoonâs thoughts against you. You turn and glance at him, surprised.Â
Jihoon is watching you with a stormy expression, thoughtful. âYou thinking about letting me in that big ass head of yours?â You tease, just in your personal comms.Â
He smirks and shakes his head, breaking eye contact to look out the front of Storm Breakers cockpit. âNot a chance.âÂ
Itâs a lie. You know it's a lie because you feel it is as sure as you feel your own glittering satisfaction that heâs thinking about it. That Jihoon is considering opening the door for you, even a fraction.Â
Your satisfaction only lasts a second as the kaiju breaches the surface in front of Emperorâs Mandate and Fang Striker. You watch in strained silence as the jumphawk team begins reporting what they can about the makeup of the kaiju.
Emperorâs Mandate engages immediately, their metal saber chain shooting from the right arm and punching through the shoulder of the kaiju. An electromagnetic pulse goes down the chain and it goes taught like a sword as Junhui slices upward, attempting to sever the kaijuâs arm.Â
The kaiju lands a hard punch to Emperorâs Mandate in the middle, sending them backward into the ocean as the chain-turned-sword pulls out as they fall. Fang Striker is there before the kaiju can attack again, charging and tackling the kaiju at the waist. Sheâs not built for heavy fighting, but Chan and Wylie are vicious, clawing at the kaiju with their metal claws.Â
âFang Striker, roll!â Minghao orders. Fang Stricker does, using the kaiju as weight to rock themselves over and under the creature, vanishing beneath the waterâs surface as Emperorâs Mandate lands a punch to the kaijuâs back with a plasmacaster, turning the night blue as the sparks flare. âPush and weâll pull.â
Salt spray mists the windshield as you and Jihoon watch in silence. The kaiju is a massive, hulking beast with spikes down its spine and a nasty club tail that catches Fang Striker in the knees, taking her down. The two jaeger teams work in flawless tandem, punching when the other ducks, tackling with the other falls.Â
In a way, itâs beautiful to watch the fury of what a jaeger can do. Your lips twitch upward as the fight starts to go their way, Emperorâs Mandate severing the leg of the monster as Fang Striker pounces on it, sinking both clawed hands into its shoulder blades and tearing through its hide.Â
âStorm Breaker-â Vernonâs panicked voice gets cut off as your world turns upside down.Â
You feel yourself slam against the restraints of the Conn-pod connecting you to the jaeger. A surprised shriek escapes you as you flip head-over-feet in Storm Breaker, crashing into the ocean with a violent slam. A kaiju raises itself from the water, rearing its head like a cobra as it shrieks, the sound shaking the entire hull.Â
âWhat the fuck?â Jihoon screams over comms. Storm Breaker rolls as the kaiju strikes like a snake, barely missing you as it hits empty water. âWhere the fuck did that come from?â
âThere was no reading!â Vernon yells back. âThe signature appeared a half second before it attacked like it had some sort of stealth mode!âÂ
âKaiju donât have fucking stealth mode, Vernon!â
âMaybe it got an iOS update man, I donât know!âÂ
Thereâs no time to care about why or how a kaiju isnât appearing on the reporting teamâs screen. Whatever level it is, itâs fast. You and Jihoon get to your feet just as it strikes again, fangs striking at the windshield. It doesnât crack, but the sound of kaiju bone against the glass isnât promising.
Storm Breaker stumbles back a few steps before regaining footing. You both strike with your right fist, slamming into the neck area of the beast as it winds up to strike again. It looks like a massive cobra, coils and coils of kaiju body gathering each time it tries.Â
A shudder vibrates through the jaeger as the punch lands, sending the kaiju back several hundred yards. You donât give it a moment to recover, both of you charging as you equip short swords perfect for close-combat fighting and slicing.Â
âI think itâs too fast to pick up a reading,â you shout over comms. âIt moves so quickly!â
Fighting is a careful rhythm. You and Jihoon find it immediately, tuning out the sound of the other fight as you zero in on your target. It doesnât matter that the kaiju took you by surprise, it doesnât matter that Jihoon still hasnât let you in, it doesnât matter that somewhere, you have other friends in just as much danger.
What matters is this. The feeling of rage that flows from Jihoon - or maybe itâs you - as you both savagely plunge a sword in the serpent body of your enemy. What matters is the way you and Jihoon flow, two rivers with the same curves and dips, sliding around the kaiju as you strike again, spraying ichor into the sea.Â
Storm Breakerâs sword extends from the right arm, reflecting the city lights briefly before you cut sideways. The blade slides clean through like a knife through paper. You and Jihoon both scream savagely in unison as the head flies separate from the body, sailing in the air for a moment before crashing into the surface as blood spurts from the main body.Â
It flails for a moment longer before crashing under ocean froth and water. Victory surges through you and you look across the Conn-pod where Jihoon is grinning at you, stars in his eyes. You feel a moment of elation, laughter bubbling to your lips as Nainsi recalls you to the Dome, Emperorâs Mandate and Fang Striker standing victorious.
âThatâs kill number six?â Jihoon asks, voice delighted. âWeâre on a fucking roll.âÂ
âI guess Iâm not so bad a co-pilot after all, right?â He rolls his eyes but you get the feeling the tips of his ears have turned red. âCome on, Ji. Tell me Iâm a good co-pilot.â
âNo way.â
âCome onnnn.â
He levels a look at you, dark eyes churning. He licks his lips, opening and closing his mouth before he finally murmurs, âCan I show you instead?âÂ
The left foot of Storm Breaker is yanked from under you. You go down screaming, feeling the impact of the seafloor as you go down in the shallows hard. Pain shoots up your left arm as you slam against the restraints keeping you attached to the Conn-pod. Lights flash in your heads up display and a sensor starts going off, the left arm of the jaeger going dead as it loses connection.Â
Jihoon is screaming your name over comms as you grit your teeth, and gather your bearings. You suck in a sharp breath as you both scramble to get Storm Breaker on her feet. âLeft arms gone cold,â Jihoon yells over comms. You manage to get Storm Breaker to her feet as you both throw out your right arm, bracing for impact as the kaijuâs head strikes again. âIt grew back two fucking heads!âÂ
âFang Striker pursuing!â Itâs Chan voice over the comms. âThree miles out from contact.âÂ
One of the heads strikes at the helm again, knocking into Storm Breaker hard. Your world rocks as you shove with the full force of the right side of the jaeger, thrusters turning on as you launch the kaiju and its twin heads backward.Â
âHow the fuck do we kill this thing?â you screech, charging toward the creature as it slides through the water, coiling to strike again. âIf we cut off its head again, itâs just going to grow another.â
âStab it through the head? I donât fucking know!â
Snatches of panic and anger and concern seize you for a split second, it feels like your own but you realize itâs not, Jihoonâs feelings bleeding into you like a fresh wound as you strike at the kaiju again. Its tail loops around the left leg again and Jihoonâs worry spikes, so raw and unfamiliar that when he lifts his foot, you donât lift yours.Â
Storm Breaker stalls, filled with mechanic screeching as the two of you clash in the drift in a moment of indecision. A storm of emotions batters down on you. Your lungs squeeze as you feel yourself torn away from the fight and into Jihoonâs memories, each one flitting by so fast you can barely resonate with them.Â
A little boy bullied by bigger kids. A woman being torn out of a home screaming in the hand of a kaiju. The sound of Mozart drowning out the screams of destruction. Young Jihoon crying in his room alone, nursing bruised ribs and knees. Teenage Jihoon fighting back. A man named Haneul that has seen all of Jihoonâs scars.Â
â... out of alignment!âÂ
Words crash through you as you feel a tremor go through Storm Breaker. Jihoonâs thoughts are like a hurricane tearing at your foundation.Â
Hatred when he meets you for the first time. Pride when he makes his first successful drop. Grief when Haneul retired. Resentment when heâs reassigned to a new pilot.Â
Jihoon screams your name but you are drowning in him. Jihoonâs emotional dam has broken and years worth of who he is comes out in a torrent.
Jihoon joins the pilot program because he wants to get away from the home. The smell of books and oil lanterns. Greasy fingers and fumes. A blue mat rushing up to meet him as he falls.Â
âEmperorâs Mandate two miles out. Preparing to engage!âÂ
Bitter coffee. Celebrating Haneulâs birthday. The sting of Chan biting him mid spar. Pretending he didnât hate his childhood. Hiding the scared little boy behind a controlled exterior.Â
âSheâs chasing the rabbit!âÂ
Chasing the rabbit. You hear the word and vaguely realize youâve fallen down the rabbit hole of Jihoonâs memories and emotions, completely unused to them in a space where youâre connected intimately. You try to gather your bearings, shutting down the images flashing across your mind that donât belong to you as Storm Breaker gets rocked again.Â
âShit,â Jihoon swears. âBlue, come on. Come back to me. Iâm sorry. Donât chase my memories!â
A kite against a blue sky. Two paper boats on a lake. Your smile as you hang upside down off the bunk bed. Soonyoung giving Jihoon a birthday cake. Wylie in a hospital bed. Jeonghan and Joshua accepting pilots of the year.Â
âIâm sorry,â Jihoon whispers, both in your mind and outloud. âCome back.â
You can do this. You can withstand the storm of Jihoonâs consciousness. You shake him out of your head, sorting out your thoughts and his. Itâs nearly impossible to understand where you end and he begins, but you manage to hold back the wake of his uncontrolled consciousness.
Blinking, you come back to the present. There are lights and warnings going off as Storm Breaker takes another strike from the kaiju. Fang Striker is taking on its other head, the kaiju splitting focus between two jaeger teams as it tries to split open the top of your jaeger. Wylie and Chan are yelling in comms and Emperorâs Mandate is in pursuit to help you disengage.Â
The left arm of your jaeger is still cold, totally disconnected from the rest of the machinery. You run through a list of fighting options with one arm down. The right side of the jaeger is fitted with a sword, explosive and a plasma caster in the first of the hand. But the jaeger overall-Â
âLight it up,â you tell Jihoon. His relief crashing into you like a tidal wave. He understands what you want to do immediately. You feel his agreement rather than see it as you both start to tap controls on your control panels. âFang Striker, prepare for lighting strike!âÂ
âFry this motherfucker!â Wylie screams. âI fucking hate snakes!â
The nuclear reactor at the core of your jaeger starts to charge. From the top down, your jaeger begins to power down, lights flickering out and screens going dead. Your heart hammers as the kaiju slams into the head of the jaeger over and over again, trying to crack the helm wide open. Storm Breaker takes the savage blows as all but the nuclear core shuts off.
A low hum begins to sound at the heart of the machine. You feel the vibration tingle in your spine as all of the energy flow focuses in the center of the jaeger, slowly charging and pulling electricity from everywhere else. Itâs a slow process, the kaiju beating down on you as the core winds up.Â
âFuck,â Jihoon swears at a particularly harsh strike. âThis fucking bitch!â
âWeâve got it,â you tell him. You look across the Conn-pod at him, his face pale behind the shield of his helmet. âSheâs not going to break, Ji.âÂ
You feel your words resonate in him. His affection is startling. He hides nothing from you now, every thought heâs ever had of you, every moment his eyes lingered on you too, every second he realized he didnât dislike you at all - itâs all there for you to see. His soul laid bare.Â
âSheâs ready!â Your smile is like the sun. âLight her up!âÂ
Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder.Â
Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.
You wait, but the kaiju doesnât rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes.Â
Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. âDoes that count as one or two kills? Iâm so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.â
-
Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring itâs not broken, but you can still feel him like heâs attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but thereâs also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry.Â
âSo sheâll be okay?â he clarifies again, looking at the doctor with a hard stare. The man tending to your arm looks nervous under the sharp gaze of a jaeger pilot. âYouâre sure itâs not broken? It better not be broken.â
âJihoon,â you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. âIâm fine. Itâs just some bruising.â
âJust some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.â
âIt did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.â
He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think.Â
Thankfully, the arm isnât damaged. Youâd bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise youâre unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctorâs advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.
Back in your room, Jihoon sits you on his bottom bunk to examine the arm himself, holding you carefully as though he can break you at any moment. You let him have this, watching as his eyebrows crease and mouth twists while he rotates your arm delicately.
He has pretty hands. Youâve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine.Â
âYou should ask for a reassignment.â Jihoonâs words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. âI nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You donât deserve that.â
âIt happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isnât always perfect.â
âWell I am. And today I wasnât. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People donât last with me, itâll be no risk to you.â
âIâm not requesting a new pilot. Youâre who I want to drift with.â
He starts to pace. âWhy? Iâm obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.âÂ
Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He wonât look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didnât want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot.Â
âYouâre not, Jihoon.â You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. âBut even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.â Jihoon glances at you, unsure. âDonât run away from me now that youâve let me in. Iâve seen you and I still want you. Unless you donât want me.â
âOf course I do.â
âItâs hard to tell with you, you know?â
His gaze drops down to your mouth. âIâll show you, then.âÂ
Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry.Â
You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.
Kissing Jihoon is like standing in the eye of a storm. Heâs brutal and calm, sharp and soft. His heart beats against yours, his chest heaving when he pulls away from your mouth to press wet kisses to the shape of your jaw and down your throat.
One of Jihoonâs hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat.Â
âDonât make that sound,â he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. âIâll fucking crumble.âÂ
âSo crumble.âÂ
âFuck.â
Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each otherâs mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. Itâs messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you.Â
Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs.Â
Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head.Â
He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.
âJust take it off,â you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.
âMmmf - difficult.â
This is not the composed Jihoon youâre used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him youâve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.
Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.
âDonât laugh at me,â he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest.Â
âSensitive?â you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. âYeah, you are.âÂ
Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. âWhat was that?âÂ
âNothing.â
He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. âDidnât sound like nothing. Come on,â he urges. âYou know you want to.âÂ
So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoonâs smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there.Â
âHaving a hard time?â
âJihoon.â
One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue.Â
âJihoon.âÂ
He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently.Â
Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like youâre going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and youâre desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest.Â
âMore,â you whisper. âGod, please more.âÂ
He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but itâs as far as you get before heâs lavishing attention to your tits again.Â
âTry now,â he pants.Â
His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You donât care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking.Â
You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug.Â
A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but itâs not quite enough.
He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear.Â
âSo god damn wet,â he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. âSo pretty for me.âÂ
His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. Heâs already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real.Â
The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesnât give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace.Â
When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically.Â
Youâre greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.
Jihoon knows itâs coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm.Â
He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. âCome on,â his voice is husky and gentle. âLet go for me.â
Itâs his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if youâre trying to push him away or keep him there.
Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.
Your voice comes out rough from use. âWant you.â
The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy.Â
âWhat?â he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.
âYouâre so hot,â you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. âDonât stop.âÂ
âYou like when I touch myself in front of you?â You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. âIâll give you a show later. If I donât fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.âÂ
âI mean, I wouldnât hate it.âÂ
âOh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?â You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. âDidnât think so.â He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess heâs made. âCanât believe I made myself wait for this.âÂ
âHow stupid of you.â
Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in.Â
His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until heâs fully sheathed to the hilt.Â
Jihoonâs breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight.Â
âThank you for waiting for me.â You almost donât hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. âWhen you didnât have to.â
Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. âOf course I did. You were meant for me.âÂ
Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space.Â
âFuck,â you whisper.Â
Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision youâve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you.Â
His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.
âHoly shit, like that.â Youâre a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. âFuck fuck fuck fuck.â
âYeah?â he asks, almost taunting. âGonna come like this?â
âYes, please donât stop.â
And he doesnât. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until youâre coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but youâre too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless.Â
Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong.Â
His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy.Â
âOh shit,â you wheeze.Â
He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it.Â
âI love when you pull my hair,â he admits, panting as he takes a breath.Â
His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like youâre coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like itâs second nature to him.
âIâm gonna come again.â It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. âShit.â
âSo come again.âÂ
You do. Itâs not as hard as the first one but itâs just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips.Â
Jihoon doesnât give you a second to recover before heâs up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard.Â
He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.
With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You donât even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.
Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders.Â
âThank you.âÂ
Youâre so close to sleep that you barely register what heâs saying. âFor what?â
âWithstanding the storm,â he laughs. âWithstanding me and waiting me out.â
âYouâre worth it.â
âI hope so. I want to be.âÂ
With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than youâve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.
âSo Iâm kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?âÂ
He groans. âDonât start.â
âWhat? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.âÂ
âCome on, weâre showering.âÂ
âNo way, I am not moving right now.â
âYou are not sleeping covered in cum.â
âJi,â you whine.Â
He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. âCome on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.âÂ
-
Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic
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â° â teaching assistant & boyfriend!lee jihoon x f!reader
⡠â summary: when you both find out that your boyfriend, lee jihoon, will be the ta for your classic literature class, it is agreed your relationship will take a temporary pause . no public dates, no pda; and, most tragically, no sex. nothing that can give away the truth to your relationship. only, it really is easier said than done. or: four times you and jihoon totally didn't have sex plus one time you did.
â° â wc is approx. 14.5k
⡠â genre: TA au, secret relationship au, forbidden relationship au, smut
â° â warnings:Â spanking, pussy spanking. derogatory language (f receiving), pet names (baby (f receiving), hoonie). rough sex, unprotected sex. masturbation (f&m) and sex toys. penetrative sex. extreme levels of delusion as to what "qualifies" as sex or not; jihoon and reader bully one another. talk pertaining to the greek tragedy oedipus rex (self-blinding is mentioned as it pertains to oedpius but not discussed in detail).
⡠â rating: 18+
â° â note: this fic represents two delusional adults. they are both consenting to what is going on. this fic is not an accurate representation of what is and not considered sex. also the word count may be scary, but i promise it is pretty much all smut.
this fic is part of @camandemstudios first ever collab, back to school with seventeen. please make sure to give the other works lots of love!
âwe have to set up rules,â jihoon announced a week before classes were to start. he closed the zoom tab, which he had preciously been using to talk to the classics professor he was ta-ing for this semester, kicking back from his desk.Â
ârules,â you said, peeking over the top of your book. it was hotter than hell outside, the sort of heat that suffocated and made you feel as if you were being wrung like a wet towel. inside, however, you had a blanket tucked around your body and socks pulled up to your calves.Â
jihoon wandered over to the thermostat. he frowned, reaching and dialing it down once again. if he was going to pay for air conditioning, he believed, he was going to be cold in the comfort of his own apartment.Â
âitâs not fair to other students that youâre dating your ta,â he said.Â
âif this is literally you breaking up with me ââ
âdonât be dramatic,â jihoon chided, crossing the room to you. he picked up the edge of the blanket, slipping under and pressing his toes against your feet. âi didnât say that. i just mean that we shouldnât advertise our relationship to everyone.â
you closed your book, keeping your forefinger inside to mark your place. âjust keep it a secret then. canât be hard.â
âwe canât let anyone know,â he enunciated. âfor real. the professor doesnât even know. if he did, heâd reassign me.â
âthen we just donât say anything.â
âyou shouldnât stay the night.â jihoon laid his arm over the back of the couch, inviting you to cuddle into his side without him verbally giving invitation. you abided, shifting to rest your head on his thick bicep. âand no dates.â
you huffed. âjihoon, i donât know if itâs really that serious.â
he scoffed back at you. black bangs hid his eyes. âthey could accuse me of favoritism, accuse you of academic dishonesty. we need to treat this seriously.â
âmaybe i should just request to change to a different section.â
âtoo much work.â
âoh,â you laughed, reaching over and pinching at his side. jihoon flinched, instinctively slapping at your hand. âand pretending we arenât dating isnât.â
âthatâs why we need rules.â you kicked out the blanket, pulling it from jihoon; he grumbled, snatching it back. âdonât be a hog. anyways. we need rules so we can stick to a strict routine. that way we donât lapse in judgment or anything.â
âso no sleepovers,â you recited, âno dates. what else? no walking to class? no kissing?â
jihoon leaned his head back against the couch, exposing the length of his pale neck. you let your eyes linger. âsleepovers, dates. no meeting in public unless in a group setting.âÂ
you let out a great sigh, pushing the blanket from you. snatching your bookmark, you stuffed it into the novel you had been reading. âso weâre strangers.â
âyes,â jihoon confirmed. âeasy enough.â
you gasped, mouth dropping open. âeasy!â
jihoon bit at his lip, and you could tell that he was already regretting his choice of words. but he wouldnât back down â that wasnât in his nature. âeasy,â he said.Â
âfine,â you hissed. you left the couch, retrieving your backpack. you brought out your notepad and pen pouch. âno sex, either.â
âwhat ââ
âif itâs so easy,â you retorted sharply, walking back to the couch while ripping out an empty page of your notebook, âthen no sex wonât be a problem for you, mr. lee. i mean â it needs to be believable, right? no getting caught.â
jihoon grimaced, moving to a sitting position on the couch. âyeah. believable.â
âwe write it down,â you said, taking back your spot next to jihoon. you opened your pen pouch, letting the pens and markers spill out onto the coffee table. âwe write it down and shake on it. itâs a contract.â
jihoon hesitated. âthis is a little severe, donât you think?â
you shook your head. ânope. canât let anyone know, yeah? otherwise iâd be academically dishonest, wouldnât i?â
jihoon grabbed your paper, creating a bullet point. âi really donât think this is necessary.â
âbut you do,â you shot back. âi mean. you were the one to bring it up all serious-like. no kissing, no sleepovers, no sex. the whole five yards, lee jihoon.â
âbut a contract ââ
âoh? so youâre wrong?â
jihoon huffed, pressing his lips into a firm line. âfine. no dates, no marks, no pda.â
âand no sex.â
âand no sex.â
W E E KÂ O N E
your eyes immediately catch onto jihoon as soon as you walk into the classroom, and while you really shouldâve guessed that he was going to play dirty â because as hard as he tries to maintain an indifferent air, jihoon is just as weak of a many as any â you didnât realize he would be playing this dirty.Â
heâs wearing black trousers that fit to his thighs and ass, cinched tightly at his waist by a thin leather belt. his white dress shirt is loose around his neck, the first button undone. your eyes, unwillingly, smooth over the silver chain that winks out from underneath his shirt, alongside the harsh lines of the white tank-top he wears underneath the dress shirt and you feel, horribly, a strike of want hitting you.Â
jihoon turns to you. âhello,â he says, voice perfectly neutral. his eyes donât stray from your face despite the fact youâve worn his favorite jeans, the ones that cling at your own ass and show off flashes of skin underneath rips strategically placed; rips jihoon has made worse over the months of being together, slipping his fingers underneath the loose threads to touch your skin.Â
âgo ahead and take a seat,â jihoon instructs, gesturing about the room. the desks are all modern despite the discussion taking place in the historic â well â history buildings. the desk shifts underneath you as you try to slide in, bottom of your water bottle clanging against the hard surface, and wheels carting across the marble floor.Â
you stretch out your legs, staring at jihoon unabashedly. it isnât a sin for you, the student, to be attracted to the teaching assistant. and so you look him over, watching as he turns this way and that way, trousers showing off the plush of his ass and shirt showing the wide line of his shoulders.Â
you are jerked from your admiration of your boyfriend-turned-teaching assistant by a large man hurrying to the desk next to you. heâs jihoonâs opposite in almost every way: heâs easily a foot taller, and his skin is a gorgeous dark bronze that seems to draw emphasize to the bulge of his muscles.Â
the man slides into the desk. itâs comically small for him, his knees hitting the underside of the desk. the desk moves as he situates himself, prompting his backpack to fall over from where he had propped it.Â
âshit,â he mumbles, reaching down with one long arm, biceps bulging rather nicely, to righten the backpack. âstay up, please.â
rather endearingly, to top it all off, he has a lisp.Â
he glances at you, eyes apologetic beneath his curly bangs. âsorry. not my day today.â
you huff a laugh. âi donât know if itâs anyoneâs day, let alone week.â
âtrue,â the man says, grinning. his teeth are white, his canines more pronounced than most peopleâs. âhey. iâm mingyu.â
you introduce yourself. âare you a classics major, then?â
mingyu wrinkles his nose. âno offense to classics, but iâm doing something interesting.â
âyeah?â
âbusiness.â
you let out a loud laugh, startling not only yourself but the people around you. mingyu grins triumphantly, tongue flicking out to run alongside his teeth. you hide your smile behind your hand, trying to quiet your laughter. jihoon, you notice, is frowning at the two of you.Â
âso interesting!â you say. âdefinitely a major filled with the best.â
âthe very best,â mingyu agrees.Â
the two of you continue chatting, conversation flowing naturally. heâs charming, you think, charisma practically radiating off of him. you donât miss how your boyfriend watches the two of you more often than not, not engaging in conversation with any of the entering students who greet him so he could keep an ear open on your conversation.Â
jihoon starts class as soon as the electronic clock on the classroom computer switches to three on the dot, the projection cast onto the board.Â
âfirst thingâs first,â he says. he leans a hand against the table set at the front of the room, though it, too, is on wheels and skirts a little as he puts weight against it. âmy syllabus, youâll find, is stricter than professor burnsâs. if you come in after the clock hits three, youâre tardy; youâll contribute to all discussions in this class, and if you donât youâll forgo any participation points; if you miss three classes in a row, which translates to nearly a month of absences, your grade will automatically fall to a fail and you will have to take not only this discussion over, but professorâs burnsâs lecture as well.Â
âif,â jihoon continues to say, voice a rasp, âyou find any of this in contradiction with professor burnsâs syllabus, you are more than welcome to email the both of us and address it.â
the class is silent as jihoon grabs a piece of white chalk. naturally, despite the gleaming projectors and furniture on wheels in the building, nearly every classroom is a remnant of the late 19th century: chalkboards; coat hooks; door and window frames made of real wood.Â
âremember to use proper emailing etiquette when contacting anyone in the college,â jihoon announces. he begins to write on the board, chalk tapping against the black surface as he decorates it with his chicken scratch. âand to address me as mr. lee. there is a pdf uploaded to our discussion course detailing how to address certain faculty members within the college for you to browse and keep.â
jihoon steps back from the blackboard. there heâs written the title of the course, ancient grecian dramas.Â
he runs a hand through his black hair, pushing back strands. âweâll begin properly next week, once professor burns assigns the first drama for reading. i recommend printing out the reading and annotating, practicing close reading. that way when you come to discussion we can go over your notes as a group and analyze the text further.
ânow. weâll begin today by doing a writing exercise. i want you to tell me what you think of when you think of ancient greek dramas. this will also be how i take attendance â so make sure to do it.â
you rifle through your bag, pulling out your notebook. next is your pen pouch, though the surface area of the desk is hardly large enough to fit your notebook. pouch, and water bottle.Â
âyou can email it,â jihoon clarifies after a moment of silence. âmake sure you label it accordingly.â
hurriedly you pull out your laptop, pushing your pen pouch aside and setting it on top of your notebook. you shift in your seat as your laptop boots back up, and you canât help but glance up at your teacherâs assistant.
jihoon, being a classics major and your boyfriend, has introduced you to ancient greek plays before. itâs not like youâre completely foreign to the subject; heâs dragged you to more than one play in order to get some assignment credit, notebook on his thigh as he jotted down notes in the dark of the theater.Â
sometimes he takes to reading to you different passages â especially those that move him or he thinks are particularly ridiculous. he pours over the text religiously, like a priest would the gospel; analyzing every line, drawing meaning from the colors of robes to what isnât being said at all. he looks at these little black words on white pages, words written thousands of years ago, and is simply transported into another lifetime.Â
itâs endearing; itâs special.Â
the first time you had noticed him, jihoon had been surrounded by pages of a poem. later youâd learn it was by some jeffrey guy from the medieval period and was about a group traveling for worship. whatever it was, didnât matter.Â
what had mattered was him.Â
he was disheveled. the white printed-out pages of the poem were scattered along the table in the university library, the uniform black-and-white pages interrupted by annotations written in colors of the rainbow. the highlighters and pens were scattered themselves, abandoned by post-it notes stuck to every page.Â
he had three empty energy drinks in front of him. the hood of his hoodie was pulled up over his hair, the black fabric matching the dark circles under his eyes that told you he had been at this for far too long.Â
you had gone and got him a water; brought it back to him. listened to his theories about color, about how he thought it meant something; how this poet had chosen every word so carefully thereâs no way that color didnât mean something.Â
you, a distinctly not literary fanatic, had not understood; you still donât.Â
but his eyes always light up and his voice begins to carry this urgency that betrays his adoration for the art, and you just canât help but let yourself get caught in his orbit.Â
so you open up an email and begin to write.
Mr. Lee,Â
My boyfriend is a Classics Major, so when I think of Ancient Greek Dramas I think of him. Heâs shown me quite a few, and weâve attended more than a handful plays
you shift in your seat, thinking. as you move, however, your arm knocks against your pen pouch and sends it to the floor.Â
the noise as it hits the floor isnât as thunderous as it would have been if your water bottle had struck it, but itâs still loud enough for you to wince. it breaks the still of the room, your classmates shifting in their seats and throwing glances at you.Â
before you could move from your seat, mingyu is. heâs quick to grab your pouch, smiling gently at you as he offers it. his hands are so big they span the length of the pouch, a beautiful golden tan that only seems to boost his natural beauty.Â
âthink you dropped this,â he says in a harsh whisper.Â
you bite back a laugh, teeth digging into your lower lip as you smile. grabbing the pouch from mingyu, you whisper back a quick thanks.Â
you glance up towards the front of the room as you settle back into your seat. jihoon is looking right at you, frowning, arms crossed over his chest. his white shirt isnât fitted, and it struggles against his bulging biceps as he crosses his arms.Â
for a moment you just look at him, taking in your boyfriendâs form; how the shirt clings to his arms, trousers to his thighs.Â
thereâs a dinging noise of an email landing in an inbox, and then jihoon is moving from the front of the room and around the table to his laptop.Â
you return to your email.Â
Mr. Lee,Â
My boyfriend is a Classics Major, so when I think of Ancient Greek Dramas I think of him. Heâs shown me quite a few, and weâve attended more than a handful plays. A lot of them are different than what Iâve expected. Some of them seem like they came right from Ancient Greece; others are more modern. I have noticed Ancient Greek plays seem to be more twisted than what a modern author may come up with.Â
Sometimes I donât understand really what a play is about. It gets all muddled, especially when they donât change the words for a modern audience. Still, my boyfriend is super sweet and helps me along.Â
you hesitate for a moment, and then you sign your name. opening a new tab, you pull up a bookmark and add one last finishing touch beside your name.Â
â °Ëâ§ËĘâĄÉËâ§Ë°
you are more exhausted than usual.Â
itâs as if all of the good vibes and rest you had managed to scrape together over the summer break were eradicated in one day. as soon as you managed to get to jihoonâs apartment you were discarding everything; shoes at the door; backpack next to the couch; bra onto the floor.Â
his bed was perhaps the most comforting place you knew besides his arms, and so you slunk towards it. you made quick work of your pants, one knee pressing against the mattress as you shook your other leg, jeans flopping to the floor dramatically.Â
you followed suit on jihoonâs bed.Â
burrowing into his sheets, you couldnât help but breathe him in. he was a hot sleeper, and so more likely to sweat during the night. his sheets smell like his sweat, though not the stinky sort he gains from his daily workout. instead, it's the natural musk of him that permeates your nose, deep and distinctly lee jihoon.Â
you allow yourself to drift. nothing exists besides jihoonâs bed and you.Â
then the door to his apartment is opening and closing, a voice with a slight rasp calling out to you.Â
âhere!â you call back, voice slightly muffled by the sheets. you press your face against them again, eyes fluttering shut.Â
jihoon slowly makes his way across the apartment. he mutters something about your discarded clothes and backpack, but you pay it no mind. jihoon pauses when he enters his room, and you can practically feel his eyes on you; roaming the bare expanse of your back, the supple flesh of your thighs.Â
âgood day?â you kick out a leg, wiggling your toes.Â
he makes a humming noise, and then heâs stepping further into the room.Â
âlong one,â he says. âforgot how fucking awkward everyone is on the first day.â
you shift, moving your face so you could watch him. jihoon crosses to his dresser, fingers messing with the cuffs of his white dress shirt. you can see the moment he gets the button, the fabric sagging around his wrists.Â
oh.Â
sitting up on the bed, you watch as he begins to work on his other cuff. he peers out the window, chatting as he does.Â
âprofessor burns is the usual,â jihoon announces. âhasnât changed in the â what? five years iâve been here? i swear she rambles like no oneâs business. if it wasnât my job to babysit the students and not her, iâd say something â but fuck, you know?â
once heâs undone the buttons on the cuffs of both of his sleeves, jihoon begins to work on the buttons falling down the middle of the shirt. his fingers are deft and quick as he presses them through their holes.Â
you canât help but think of his fingers on you. how nimble and skillful they are against your skin; how he dances them up and down your flesh as he presses kisses against your skin; how they seem to know just where to go and just what to do against your body, rubbing at your nipples and pinching at the undersides of your tits to get reactions from you.Â
because fuck, jihoonâs fingers â
sometimes even watching him write you canât help but get horny. how his fingers grip his pen, how he spins it around his fingers absentmindedly. how they alleviate pressure on the pen as he writes and stops. watching him write, sometimes you canât help but think about his fingers at your clip, a harsh presence as they rub down on you once moment and gentle the next, fingers skimming your clit as they massage the gummy area around it.Â
watching his clever fingers as they make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, you canât help but yearn. your eyes see nothing but his fingers; ears hear nothing of his conversation. itâs just you and jihoonâs hands and the way your cunt clenches, pussy leaking into your panties.Â
then jihoonâs pulling off his dress shirt, and heâs wearing a tank top underneath.Â
you want to scream.Â
not to say jihoon doesnât look good in a tank top. because he does. fuck, he does. you always find yourself admiring jihoonâs shoulders and arms when heâs in a tank top no matter what sort of mood youâre in.Â
(one instance in particular you had been full of energy, ranting about a coworker who didnât know what she was doing and had been kept around for far too long. and then you had looked up at jihoon and let your eyes selfishly roam over the broadness of his back, the curves of his bulging arms as he cut up meat. all sense had abandoned you in that moment, and before you knew it you were grabbing at his shirt and pulling him to you, tongue running along his skin.
not exactly your proudest moment, but.)
maybe the combination of his trousers and tank top shouldnât be as sexy as they are, you think hysterically. his tank top his tucked into his pants, and, torturously, his fingers reach down to pull the hem free. the hem of his tank top settles around his hips, showing off just a sliver of skin.Â
jihoon raises a hand, running his fingers through his black hair as he continues to talk about something-or-other.Â
and his white tank top rises up his stomach.Â
you can see the hairs that lead from his belly button down, down, down. you can see the pale expanse of skin that you know is soft and smooth to the touch. you can imagine your hands pressing against his skin and sliding underneath his trousers; can imagine the restrictiveness of his trousers as you tuck your hands into his underwear, fingertips skimming alongside the base of his cock.Â
youâve never pretended to innocent when it came to lee jihoon; never pretended your mind didnât run wild with salacious thoughts.Â
and you werenât going to pretend now, because âÂ
because in your mind your hands were rubbing at the base of his cock, mouth at his collar and licking along his collarbones. he was moaning in you ear, soft and breathy, and you were moving down onto your knees, your own fingers unbuttoning his trousers.Â
jihoon reaches down, fingers swiftly pushing off his socks. âhey, by the way, i sent you an email response to your attendance discussion for today.â
you donât speak, eyes roaming over the expanse of his back, still covered by fabric, like a starving man before a feast.Â
jihoon peeks at you. âit was sweet.â
âyeah?âÂ
he doesnât say anything else. jihoonâs eyebrows raise, silently prompting you.Â
you let out a loud, horrible groan that tears at your throat. the insides of your thighs are warm as you move across the bed to grab your discarded phone, the wet fabric of your panties catching against your skin, cold and shocking.Â
jihoon begins to chatter once more as you swipe on the email notification. heâs quiet in public but you canât help but treasure how talkative he becomes afterwards; how all the little snide comments heâs kept to himself are let loose.Â
you look at the email.Â
you furrow your brows. you look over it again.Â
I am glad to see at least one of the students in our discussion section will not be a complete novice to Greek theater. I hope after this semester you will be able to engage with your boyfriend in a more informed matter when it comes to his passions.Â
However, despite how sweet your email was, I do have to remind you to please stick to proper email etiquette. Your use of â °Ëâ§ËĘâĄÉËâ§Ë° is highly unprofessional, and I urge you to not include such things when emailing any staff or faculty or teaching assistants. For this misconduct, you will be deducted a point from your discussion grade for today. Please keep this in mind for the future.Â
Well wishes,Â
Mr. Lee
your jaw drops open.Â
âyou fucking deducted me for my emoticon?!âÂ
âwe agreed to be strangers,â jihoon reminds you. he removes his pants. you canât even find it within yourself to be horny. the warmth of your cunt is overtaken by the red-hot anger that licks through your veins. âand itâs inappropriate to send your ta heart and sparkle emoticons.â
âitâs a fucking â oh my god,â you reach towards the top of the bed, fingers grabbing the corner of his pillow. you tug it to you. âitâs not that serious.â
jihoon steps out of his pants. his thighs are thick and pale, and when he turns towards his closest you can see how snug his black underwear is against the supple curve of his ass. fleetingly, because you are angry at his audacity, you allow your eyes to follow the curve of his asschecks and how the band of his underwear rests low on his hips.Â
âteaching assistants and students arenât to have any sexual relations,â jihoon recites. âitâs contract. if something happens, your little not-that-serious emoticon is evidence.â
you grab the pillow fully, swinging it around your body and at jihoon. it hits him in the middle. he lets out a soft noise of surprise. âyouâre such an ass.â
jihoon shrugs. âwe signed a contract, baby.âÂ
he tucks his thumbs underneath the waistband of his underwear, and then heâs pulling them down his legs. you donât even have it in you to look away. you marvel at his naked lower half. his cock, thick and flaccid, hanging between his thighs. the dusky color of it; the dark hairs that travel from underneath the hem of his tank top to the base of his cock.Â
jihoon pulls on a pair of grey joggers, concealing his cock and thighs from your eyes. âlisten. i donât want to be the bad guy. but we really canât be risking anything.â
his cock is covered and heâs talking about something entirely different, but youâre still thinking about his dick. youâre still thinking about his dick as he walks from the bedroom, bare feet softly hitting the hardwood floors.Â
you trail two of your fingers along your bare thigh. his dick, flaccid and thick in your hands. it feels like itâs been forever since youâve had your hands or mouth or fucking cunt around his dick; forever since you last pressed your thumb against the slit of his cockhead, since his raspy, gentle groans were being pressed into your skin.Â
you skim your nails along the soft insides of your thighs.Â
itâs not like youâre sexually depraved. you and jihoon just had sex the other day. but thereâs something about this, the situation, being strangers, that makes you feel as if youâre starving.Â
your fingers move to your panties. you let your nails delicately linger alongside the lips of your cunt through the fabric, little sparks â little pieces of glitter, almost â making your toes curl.Â
fuck lee jihoon, you think, and then youâre sliding your forefinger down between your pussy lips. you donât move the fabric of your panties. leaning back against his bed, you let your finger drag down and push up, your wetness soaking your panties.Â
his bed envelopes you as you lean back. tilting your hips up and bracing your feet against the mattress, you add another finger to the stimulation of your pussy. you let your fingers grow rougher, let them dig in slightly to the sensitive area around your clit.Â
your fingers find your hole, stretching the fabric of your panties to reach in.Â
âfuck.âÂ
your eyes flutter open â when did they shut? jihoon is standing at the entrance to his room. his long hair is pushed back from his face by a black headband. in one hand he holds a metal water bottle.Â
his eyes are wide, his sweet lips parted as he stares at that spot between your thighs.Â
jihoon shuffles further into the room, placing his water bottle on top of his set of drawers. youâve begun absentmindedly petting your pussy, once again dragging your fingers over your clit lazily.Â
jihoon presses his knees against the foot of his mattress.Â
you hum, twisting your wrist. you press your thumb against the side of your clit, your fingers dipping once more to your hole. this morning you had chosen to wear a pair of pink panties. you donât regret it now. youâre so soaking wet that you know jihoon can see the shape of your cunt through the fabric.Â
your fingers begin to contract. you massage your pussy through the fabric leisurely, rhythmically. you drag your thumb down from your clit to meet your fingers, press your fingers down to barely sink into your hole.Â
jihoon lets out a deep noise. he braces his hands against the mattress, makes a motion to crawl towards you.Â
âno,â you say, words slightly slurred. âno. one point, remember?â
jihoonâs brow furrows.Â
you reach down with your other hand, legs spreading wider. with your other hand you pull at the flesh of your pussy lips, offering your fingers more space to work with. you shift your hand, making sure to keep one lip in place. your other hand â the one with soaking fingertips â strokes up and down, up and down, up and down.Â
jihoonâs hand settles on your ankle. you kick out. âno sex, yeah?â
jihoon lets out a strangled noise youâve never heard from him.Â
you let your eyes fall shut. you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. letting out a soft breath, your fingers begin to glide up and down your cunt more quickly.Â
you begin to focus on your clit more. your hand that was holding your cunt lips moves up, focusing on baring the area around your clit. with your other hand you begin to stimulate the direct areas on either side of your clit. you are still working through your panties, but youâre so wet that the friction is almost nonexistent; your fingers just slide, massaging into the flesh.Â
you begin to set a rhythm. you rock your forefinger and middle finger against the sensitive area around your clit. you rock once; twice; then youâre dipping your fingers down the length of your cunt, down to your hole; you drag them back up, and begin your elaborate play once more.Â
itâs somewhat treacherous. it would be easier if it was jihoon. you would be able to fully relax back into the bed, just have to lay there and take it.Â
but: no sex.Â
so you slowly build up a climax, toes curling and chest arching up. itâs not sudden, not unexpected. itâs a slow climax that has your cunt tingling, head dropping back against the pillow.Â
you continue to slip your fingers against your clit, dragging out your climax, continuing through it.Â
eventually you come back to yourself.Â
your wrist hurts; your fingers are cramping. discomfort takes over you more than lust, and so you relax your body back into the bed, hands moving from your pussy.Â
and you look at jihoon.Â
your boyfriend drags his gaze up from your pussy to your face. one of his hands is wrapped around his cock. he hasnât taken it out of his joggers, just as you hadnât taken off your drenched panties. you can see the thick outline of it through the grey fabric. the dusky head of it rises from the waistband of his pants.Â
his hand disappears into his pants. you can see his knuckles as he drags his hand down the length of his cock. you pay special attention as his hand reappears, thumb bullying the fat head of his dick.Â
you hum, stretching your arms above your head. you extend one of your legs, the other leisurely arching against the mattress.Â
you let your hands wander along your chest. you arenât doing it to stimulate yourself but to draw jihoonâs attention. to help him along, you suppose.Â
his eyes follow the trailing of your fingers. one of your hands cradles a tit, the thumb of your other pinching a nipple against your forefinger.Â
eventually jihoon lets out a groan, dropping his head. short spurts of cum pulses from his cock, soaking his hand. jihoon continues to fuck his fist through it, hissing and letting out breath moans.Â
you feel sedated; satisfied. so does he. jihoon crawls up the length of the bed to plop next to you. he doesnât cuddle against you. he just lays his body next to you, thick muscle of his arm against yours.Â
âno sex,â he breathes out.Â
âno sex.â
W E E KÂ F I V E Â
you are going to murder your teaching assistant.Â
the halls of the history building are nearly vacant save for the lone straggler. lee jihoon has his office hours late enough in the day to where most classes are over. most everyoneâs day is over.Â
but you are far from being done.Â
the ta offices are tucked back with the professor offices, closed off behind a heavy wood door that matches the old style of the rest of the building. you get to the door a few minutes before his office hours officially start, glaring down at the screenshot on your phone.Â
While your writing response over Medea is sufficient, I am loath to remind you to use proper citations in the responses. Otherwise it will be considered plagiarism. As a warning, your letter grade for this assignment will fall a whole grade.Â
again: you were going to murder him.Â
why couldnât he just let you off with a warning? why did he immediately jump to taking your grade for the assignment down? he was being completely unfair and you werenât going to stand for it.Â
the clock on your phone switched to a minute closer to his office hours.Â
still five minutes away.Â
whatever.Â
you reach out for the door knob, twisting the cold metal in your hand. the door is heavy to open, but you jam your shoulder against it and swing it open.Â
the teaching assistant office is a room with three desks pressed against the wall on each side. thereâs hard, uncomfortable chairs; two sockets in the entire room.Â
and lee jihoon, sitting in one of the chairs with his cock in his hand.Â
immediately your boyfriend flinches, eyes wide as he looks towards you. once jihoon sees it is, in fact, you and not some poor student walking in to request help.Â
then, like you werenât even there, jihoon turns away and begins fucking into his hand once more.Â
you hurry through the door, shoving it shut behind you and pushing in the lock.Â
all the while you donât look away from jihoon.Â
his teeth sink into his lower lip, and his head tips back to reveal the long column of his pale throat. his black bangs fall around his face, not obscuring a single centimeter.Â
jihoonâs hand works quickly, furiously, over his dick. precum drenches the head. when he drags his hand down he hisses, face wincing.Â
you move across the room, shrugging your backpack onto the ground.Â
the assignment and grade having left your mind entirely, you kneel before jihoon. he peers down at you, eyebrows raised wearily. âno sex,â he reminds you.Â
âno sex,â you agree.Â
you raise your hand to your face. itâs the easiest thing to spit into your palm, to replace jihoonâs hand with your own. as soon as you squeeze around his dick jihoon lets out a low, raspy noise.Â
his cock is thick and perfect in your hand, the heavy weight of it tempting. you want it in your mouth; want him to be fucking his cock down your throat.Â
instead you let him fuck your hand. you move your hand down. the slide is slightly rough, your spit and his precum not quite enough. jihoon likes it, though; you know he does. his breath is harsh and labored, his eyes squeezed shut.Â
you twist your wrist as you move your hand towards the head of his cock. you press your thumb into the slit of his dock.Â
âgonna cum,â he warns you.Â
then you think back to your letter grade.Â
meanly, perhaps even cruelly, you drop your hand to the base of his cock and squeeze, cutting off his orgasm. jihoon lets out a startled, irritated noise.Â
âmy assignment.â
âfuck,â he grumbles, one of his hands raising to push back his bangs. âare you serious?â
âlet me off with a warning,â you say. you keep one hand around the base of his dick, tight and trapping. your other hand goes to his balls. you hold them, thumb gently swiping over the flesh.Â
jihoonâs breath shutters in his throat.Â
âa warning,â you demand.Â
âfuck,â he says again. âfine. a warning.â
triumphant, you let a large smile take over your face. you begin to move your hand once again.Â
W E E KÂ N I N EÂ
ânow that youâve finished properly with oedipus rex,â jihoon begins, rounding the table at the front of the classroom, âletâs get some opinions. raise your hand if you enjoyed the play.â
more hands than not raise around the room, including mingyuâs. you shoot him a betrayed look. the past nine class weeks the two of you had been close, sitting next to one another during lecture and discussion. you traded conversation and thoughts more often than not, using one another to bounce ideas and theories.Â
and for him to have enjoyed the play?Â
jihoon moves to lean against the desk. he crosses his arms over his chest. this time heâs wearing all black. it seems to lengthen his figure, stretch him out, as well as broaden the line of his shoulders.Â
he looks good.Â
âletâs get some opinions on people who didnât like the play.â immediately his eyes are on you, calling out your name. âyou didnât enjoy the play.â
traitor.Â
you shift in your seat. âuh. no, not really.â
âwhy?â
you were going to suffocate him in his sleep.Â
âitâs rather ââ you break off, searching for words. you werenât the literary student; he was. âi donât understand him, i guess.â
jihoon tilts his head. âhim? sophocles? or oedipus?â
âoedipus,â you clarify.Â
âcan you explain a little further? what exactly donât you understand?â
you bite down on your tongue for a moment, trying to gather yourself. the classroom is silent as you wait, unintentionally putting pressure on your shoulders as you realize they were all waiting for you to speak up.Â
âhe â oedipus â heâs sort of stupid, isnât he?â someone chokes behind you. you ignore them, looking at jihoon. despite him putting you on the spot like an asshole, heâs still your boyfriend. his face isnât harsh, isnât judging as he watches you struggle for words. for a moment he isnât your ta â heâs your boyfriend. heâs your boyfriend and youâre having a plain, casual discussion. âi mean. he knows the prophecy. but he just does whatever he wants anyways? heâs just â heâs got no common sense.â
jihoon hums, tapping his fingers along his forearms. âso his arrogance has made him entirely unlikable to you. are there any redeeming treats, do you think?â
you shake your head. âit makes him deserve his ending, i think. he thought he was above it all.â
jihoon nods. âi see. remember that argument for your paper. thatâs a big question that needs answered: does oedipus deserve his ending? you could analyze that further and get a pretty solid base for your essay.â
he begins to question other students about whether they liked the story or not, leaving you alone. the remainder of class flows as such, ending with jihoon gently urging everyone to write down their thoughts to revisit for the essay.Â
you gather your things and put them into your backpack. mingyu loiters next to you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark jeans.Â
âwhatâre you doing after this?â he reaches down and grabs your backpack after youâve zipped it up, slinging it onto his shoulder. âwanna hit the library? we could bounce some more ideas around.â
smiling, you begin to agree.Â
jihoon calls your name, having gathered his own things and lodging his foot in the heavy wooden door, keeping it ajar. âdo you mind coming with me to the office for a minute or two? i want to talk about what youâve said during class.â
you swallow back a sigh, throwing jihoon a firm-lipped smile. mingyu swings your backpack back off his shoulder, handing it to you. âgood luck.â
you make a face at him. mingyu doesnât know the true nature of the relationship between you and jihoon, but he does know that youâve visited jihoon during office hours more than once. not a week has gone by without you setting foot into the little ta office, setting your printed-out versions of whatever classic the class was working on.Â
âprint every story out,â jihoon had advised, voice carrying that air of superiority he always seemed to gain when the two of you were sat in the dark office. âmark it up. itâll help you pay close attention to every line.â
jihoon leads you to the ta office, weaving through the throngs of students making their way through the marble halls. you sort of want to reach out and grab onto his shirt, just to ensure he stays visible. but you donât.Â
another ta is in the office, steadily working away at their own homework. she throws a smile at the two of you as you enter. âhey, jihoon.â
âhey.â he crosses into the room, setting his laptop in front of the chair that he had, only a few weeks ago, received a rather satisfactory hand-job from you in. âyour office hours are over, arenât they?â
the other ta nods. âyep. just working now. never seems to end.â
jihoon settles into the wooden chair, flipping up the screen to his laptop. he had to change it from the selfie the two of you had taken during a hike, matching dandelion flowers tucked into your ears. now a mountain range greets him. âweâre gonna be discussing oedipus rex.â
âwonât be a bother to me!â
you push over a chair close to jihoon, the feet of it scraping against the floor.Â
âpull out your notes,â jihoon says. he pulls up his own version of the play on his computer; theyâre scans of his own copy, scribbles and highlighted passages littering every single page. âweâll go over what exactly prompted you to think this way about oedipus. itâll help you get a real solid foundation for the essay.
âso,â he says once you have your notes spread out. âoedipus is a flawed character. thereâs no doubt about it. the stage directions themselves reveal as much.â
as he talks, raspy voice droning on and words blending together in your mind, jihoonâs foot begins to slide across the floor. you canât help but look at it, watch it. his black leather shoe moves from in front of him, slowly, silently, gliding across the floor to nudge against your own shoe.Â
âhe does whatever he wants, thatâs what you said?â
you nod.Â
âduring discussion you mentioned that he knew the prophecy and ignored it,â jihoon says. his foot now fully rests against yours. itâs just one point of contact, and yet it seems to electrify you; warm you up. you canât help but focus on it, like a cat watching a bird through the window.Â
âbut he doesnât,â jihoon says. âhe thoroughly believes his parents to be the king and queen of corinth. according to oedipus, and forgetting the context we ourselves know, he has escaped his fate.â
his words fade out. jihoonâs hands settle on his keyboard, a single finger absentmindedly tapping at a key. itâs not hard enough to do anything. itâs just a simple tap, a fumbling gesture.Â
his shoe shifts. he presses his foot against yours from toe to heel.Â
the other ta in the room begins to collect her things. you listen to her as she moves about, closing her laptop and shuffling papers.Â
jihoon shifts in his chair. his knees spread out. his trousers strain, just slightly, against his thick thighs. the barest sliver of pale ankle slips out from beneath his trousers, his black socks hidden beneath the leather lip of his shoes.Â
the ta opens the door; closes it behind her.Â
âhis character is one the citizens of greece would have identified with â at least the ones in athens,â jihoon says, and then heâs turning his face towards you. feeling rather caught, you meet his eyes. âso why do you think he deserves his ending?â
you furrow your brows. youâve gone over this. âbecause he actively chooses it through his arrogance. he ignores the prophecy.â
jihoon sighs, lips pursing together. âyou havenât paid attention to a single word iâve said.â
your mouth falls open a little. âi have!â
âhavenât,â he corrects.Â
jihoon stands from the chair. you miss being able to see the skin of his ankle. he crosses the room, hand falling to the door knob. he locks it. âi think we need to work on your attention span, donât you?â
your mouth goes dry. he begins to unbutton the cuffs of his black shirt as he moves back across the room. he pushes up his sleeves, shoving off his thick forearms. âjihoon?â
jihoon sits back in his wooden chair, legs automatically spreading out. one of his hands rests on the armrest of the chair, while he set his elbow on the other, using it to prop up his head. jihoon raises his brows at you. âwell?â
âwhat?â
he sighs, as if burdened. âtake off your pants and underwear.â
you snap your head towards the door. after verifying no one had magically walked through, you look back at jihoon, hissing his name. âwhat are you going on about?â
âwe need to work on your memory,â he explains matter-of-factly, voice taking on that arrogant lilt he so often gets when in this room. jihoon likes this, you think; likes being in a position of power over you. likes being able to boss you around; able to tell you what to do.Â
with one last glance at the door, you stand from your wooden chair. jihoon watches unabashedly as you work your pants down over your ass. you leave both your jeans and underwear on the hard floor of the office.Â
jihoon pats his thigh wordlessly.Â
you feel heat rush towards your cheeks. youâve sat on his thighs before, have ridden them before. but it felt so fucking different to be lowering yourself onto the thick muscle in a university office, your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, the backs of your hands lightly brushing against the wood of his chair.Â
you donât do anything for a moment other than just sit on his thigh. the fabric of his pants is like silk against your skin, and you canât help but slowly, hesitantly, rock your hips down onto him.Â
jihoonâs hands go to your hips. he tilts his head back, the curls framing his temples brushing against the corners of his eyes.Â
ânow,â he says, âyou think oedipus ignores his prophecy.â
you look down at your boyfriend, pouting at him. âyouâre punishing me because i have a different opinion than you? about some old play?â
jihoon presses his lips together. then his hand is coming down sharply on your outer thigh, the sound acutely piercing your ears and reverberating in your head. he rubs roughly at the skin after, thumb swiping against the patch of skin as it turns violent with anger from his slap.Â
âbecause youâre ignoring the text,â jihoon says. his hand slides from your thigh around to your ass. his fingers dig into your asscheek, contemplating the weight of it. âitâd be one thing if you had actual evidence that wasnât in conflict with what sophocles was telling us.â
âif youâre trying to get me wet,â you say, thumbs tapping against his shoulders, âiâm not sure this is the way to go.â
jihoon moves the hand that was on your ass back to your hips. he squeezes the flesh beneath his hands, and then heâs slowly leading you into a rocking motion. itâs not much, but thereâs enough connection between your cunt and his thigh to have a gentle swell of lust licking at your pussy.Â
âdonât be smart,â he says.Â
âyou act smart all the time,â you snap back. you keep rocking your hips. âwhy canât i?â
he scoffs a little, nails slightly digging into your skin. instead of any pain, they send a little spark of heat through you. âiâve got degrees in this,â he explains. âiâm literally allowed to talk about this.â
ânow,â he says, âoedipus never ignores his fate. he says as much. he believes polybus and merope to be his parents. when he becomes doubtful, he confronts them: â. . . i went to mother and father, questioned them closely . . . so as for my parents i was satisfied . . .ââ
for a moment youâre speechless. and then you let out a loud laugh despite yourself. âyou little fucking nerd, reciting oedipus rex to your girlfriend while sheâs rubbing herself on her thigh.â
jihoonâs jaw tightens. he moves, hands on your hips pushing you up and off of him. once youâre standing, he joins you. as soon as jihoon is on his feet heâs pushing you around, moving so your bare ass is against his front. then he pushes further, pressing your body against the table in front of you. the edge of your table reaches your upper thigh, and so itâs easy for jihoon to place his hand against the middle of your back and press you until your front is firmly against the surface of the table.Â
as soon as your chin is touching the cold table, jihoon is bringing his hand down sharply against your ass. you canât help but let out a startled shout, body jerking from underneath him.Â
âbe good,â he murmurs, hand now gentle as he rubs at your skin in apology. âlisten to your ta. trying to help, baby.â
âyouâre being mean,â you say, toes curling against the frigid office floor as his hand travels to rest against the curve of your ass.Â
âwouldnât have to be if youâd be good,â he says. jihoon moves his hand down, the tip of his forefinger gliding against the area where your ass and thigh meet. âyou gonna be good for me?â
you shift, moving one of your arms so you can rest your face against it. forehead pressing against your forearm, you nod.Â
âgood. now oedipus believed polybus and merope to be his true parents. he was still desperate to avoid the prophecy, so he abandoned his princely title and corinth. he wanted to be free of it, baby.â
his fingers tip inwards. your entire body tenses as his fingertips press alongside your folds. he doesnât do anything further; doesnât insert them. instead he just keeps them there, absentmindedly shifting his hand.Â
âhe is arrogant,â jihoon absconds, allowing you a single point. âwe see that in the beginning. â. . . the world knows my fame: i am oedipus.ââ
jihoon waits for a moment after quoting the play. when you donât do anything other than let out a shaky breath, he rewards you. jihoon slowly moves his fingers against your cunt. he trails his fingers up and down your length. he maps out the full expanse of your pussy. his fingers slide up over your hole, which was now leaking and clenching properly. he brushes his digits over your clit almost clinically, giving it no more attention than the rest of you.Â
âbut he doesnât ignore the prophecy. he believes heâs foiled it until he forces the shepherd to tell his story. he refuses to stop; refuses to listen to reason. heâs arrogant, yes, and hurtles straight towards the horrid truth of his parentage and marriage without a second thought.â
jihoon slowly, tortuously, slips a single finger into your cunt. his finger isnât so thick to cause any discomfort. instead your pussy welcomes it, clenching around the digit. you canât help but bare down on his finger, hips searching for more.
later youâll remember to be mortified by the fact your boyfriend got you wet while talking about sophocles.Â
but now you press your eyes shut, fingers lightly scraping against the surface of the desk.Â
jihoon pushes his finger all the way inside of your pussy. you can feel it when itâs fully in, his knuckles scraping against your flesh.Â
you cart your hips back, trying to get his finger to graze that special spongey place.Â
âbe good,â jihoon says, and then heâs retracting his finger from your cunt entirely.Â
you let out a small gasp, brow furrowing. you turn your head to peer back at him. âhoonieâŚ.â
jihoon laughs at you, and then heâs lowering himself to press his chest along the line of your back. jihoon presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, one of his hands still holding tight to your hips. âyouâre so cute when iâm fucking you,â he says, mouth moving against your cheek as he speaks. âyou always get so cute. what is this?â
you pout at him. jihoon presses another kiss to your cheek, and then heâs standing.Â
this time jihoon slides in two fingers. you frown, insistently pressing your forehead against your forearm as the stretch of his fingers slightly burns. itâs not unpleasant, of course. just a gentle burn that signals the walls of your pussy stretching to accommodate him.Â
âthere,â he says, satisfied. ânow. where was i?â
heâs silent. you realize heâs waiting for you to speak, to prove you were listening.Â
you let out a strangled groan, trying to think back. he had a single finger inside of you and it wasnât enough. you try to think. you try to think of a single word to say that isnât fuck or more; try to think despite the way jihoon is slowly angling his fingers towards your front, pressing them up.Â
you canât help but press your thighs together in anticipation.Â
jihoon clicks his tongue, and then heâs pulling his fingers out. you let out a whine, trying to push yourself away from the desk.Â
both of his hands go to your shoulders, keeping you firmly against the surface. âstay still,â he warns you. âi know you have a listening problem but i didnât think it was this bad.â
thereâs a rustle of clothing behind you. âdonât look,â jihoon says. âkeep your face against the table.â
you canât think of a reply, canât think of anything to do other than what he says. you wonder if you should feel ashamed of how easily you become compliant for him.Â
âoedipus doesnât ignore the prophecy,â jihoon restates, and then heâs pressing his front against your ass. heâs taken off his pants and is just in his underwear. you can feel the shape of his thick cock against your ass, can feel itâs hard length along you. âhe just believes polybus and merope when they say they are his true parents. thereâs no harm in that. anyone would want to believe it when the people who raise them say they are their true parents.â
jihoon rocks his hips against you. his hands are holding your hips still as he, essentially, humps against your ass.Â
âso in that regard your argument has a fallacy,â jihoon announces.Â
a fallacy?Â
you want to say something biting about how heâs able to even think about fallacies and arguments when heâs humping your ass, but then jihoon is returning two of his fingers to your pussy and you elect to keep silent.Â
âhe is arrogant, though,â jihoon says. he pushes two of his fingertips into your hole. you clench hungrily around them as if your pussy was trying to suck them in. you wonder if youâve always been so â so whorish for him, or if it was a recent development from not having been properly fucked in nine weeks.Â
âhis pride is something that transcends time,â jihoon carries on. he doesnât press his fingers any deeper inside of you. he rests the tip of his ring finger just barely against your clit. he doesnât move it either; just rests it there, taunting.Â
âeveryone can think of a political leader who is too arrogant for their own good,â jihoon says. âitâs a tale as old as time. sophocles set the precedent with this story. a king on top of the world who listens to no one, only to be brought down to his knees by fate.â
jihoon begins to slide his fingers in. he does it leisurely, slowly, as if he has all the time in the world.Â
âthe evolution of his character is a fascinating one,â jihoon says, his ring finger leaving its place to instead rest against your hole. he doesnât slide it in. you want to buck your hips back and force it inside. âarrogance to being humbled in every sense of the word. he is only wise until he can no longer see; only sees the truth once he is blinded
âdo you remember,â jihoon says, âwhat he says after he blinds himself?â
you shake your head against your arm. his two fingers are nearly settled entirely inside of your pussy. you want them so deep inside of you that you can feel them in your throat.Â
involuntarily you clench around his digits.Â
jihoon clicks his tongue. his fingers stop moving in you. âwhat did i say? be good. none of this shit.â
you let out a little whine, your free hand curling into a fist. âsorry,â you say, unable to keep your voice from pitching up in desperation. âiâm sorry, hoonie.â
âsay you wonât move,â jihoon instructs, voice seemingly detached. âsay youâll be a good girl for me and wonât move.â
your lower lip wobbles. you feel somewhat humiliated like this: your front pressing against the surface of a ta desk, shirt rucked up along your stomach and bare toes curling against the marble floors of the university history building. your boyfriend pressing all up against you, fingers stuffed into your cunt, telling you what to do as if you were some pathetic whore, desperate for a cock inside.Â
but, because you are exactly that, you repeat his words, feeling wetness trickle from your pussy. âiâll be good,â you whimper out. âi wonât move. iâll be a good girl.â
jihoon lets out a quiet, nearly-silent huff of laughter. he retracts his fingers from your pussy, and immediately youâre feeling panic strike you.Â
âbe patient,â he chides you as you begin to press back against him. three of jihoonâs press against your hole. âbe a good girl.â
jihoon pushes his three fingers into your pussy. you let out a high keening noise like a wounded animal, eyes squeezing shut and cunt eagerly drinking his fingers up. theyâre nothing like his dick, arenât as thick or delicious, but theyâre something.Â
the stretch burns and you wiggle absentmindedly, relishing in it. the burn is acute and hot and you yearn to press into it, to take more and more and more.Â
âgood,â he says once all three of his fingers are stuffed inside of you. âyou look pretty like this, baby. you know that?â
you whine. you donât move.Â
jihoonâs three fingers press up, and when they bump against your bundle of nerves you canât help but wiggle back, searching.Â
âdo you remember?â he repeats. âwhatâs the first thing oedipus says after heâs blinded?â
you shake your head. you donât know how he expects you to think about anything. you feel as if youâve been strung along, as if heâs been tugging at a chain and youâve been stumbling behind him.Â
ââoh,â jihoon quotes, and then heâs lowering himself to press against you. his mouth it against your ear, his fingers shifting within your pussy due to his change of position. when he speaks again you can hear his voice as clear as day despite how he murmurs, and itâs as if heâs wrapped entirely around you; as if heâs consumed you. ââoh, the agony! i am agony.ââ
jihoon presses his fingers back into you so the tips of them were pressing against your pleasure spot once more.Â
âheâs felt true agony now,â jihoon explains. he keeps his fingers still now. âheâs an icarus fallen to the earth. his wings of wax have melted. heâs a king with his word left in crumbles; with his queen dead and children made of sin. heâs nothing.â
jihoonâs nose presses against the shell of your ear. âhis arrogance was his destruction. can you tell me more about it?â
you open your mouth to speak. you canât. and even if you could, it isnât as if your brain is working. thereâs nothing inside of your mind. the lust, the desire, that takes over your body is so big it swallows up everything else and renders you dumb.Â
jihoon huffs out a laugh, mean. âfine. at least do this to prove youâve listened to me: tell me the first thing oedipus says after becoming blind.â
you feel as if heâs surrounding you. you can feel jihoonâs weight along your back, can feel his fingers inside of your cunt, stretching you out. you feel so keyed up, so ready for something. not something â him. you want jihoon. you want him carnally. you want his dick stuffed inside of your pussy. you want his mouth on your neck; want his hands on your tits. you want him pressing your face into the desk and drilling into your pussy.Â
you open your mouth. an embarrassing noise comes out.Â
âcome on,â jihoon says. âyou can do it.â
ââoh,ââ you breathe out, trying to remember the exact words. âoh, agony! iâm â iâm agony!â
jihoon must judge your vague quotation as good enough. he moves off of your back, and you canât help but whine, wanting his weight settled against you once more.Â
his hand shifts inside of you.Â
he slides his fingers out. you can feel your cunt resisting the slide, pussy clenching down on his fingers.Â
âhoonie,â you beg.Â
âbe good,â he chides you. âremember. no sex.â
and then jihoon is thrusting his fingers so forcefully into your pussy that you can feel the sting as his knuckles hit your ass. the sharp noise of skin hitting skin rings out. you can barely process it before heâs withdrawing his fingers and fucking them back in just as quickly.Â
jihoon finger-fucks you harshly, as if it were his dick he was shoving inside. your ass jiggles with each thrust back in. you whine and cry, and you can feel your ass begin to smarten from the sting. but you still arch back and meet each thrust of his fingers eagerly, craving the pleasure-pain.Â
itâs rough and you can feel the orgasm, that string he had been messing with for what seems to be hours, begin to tighten.Â
âwant,â you pant out, fingernails scraping against the desk. âwant you, hoonie. please, please, please.â
âbeg, baby.â
you let out a cry. thereâs tears at the corners of your eyes. âplease, hoonie. i want you. want you, want you. i want you, hoonie.â
your voice breaks off, tight with emotion.Â
jihoon lets out a curse, and then heâs dropping behind you. jihoon shoves your leg up, and you follow suit, placing your knee on the able and giving him access to your pussy. jihoon shoves a hand against your thigh, keeping it in place on the table.Â
his mouth licks a stripe from where his fingers plunge into your pussy to your clit, taking that aching muscle between his lips and suckling.Â
when you orgasm itâs harsh and loud, fluids gushing from your pussy and soaking jihoonâs face. he takes you into his arms, pulling you to the floor with him and pressing kisses to your face.Â
âgood girl,â he murmurs, voice raspy and comforting. the office is drenched in the smell of pussy â of your pussy â and his nose shines with your release. he ignores it, his clean hand pushing back stray strands of hair from your face so he can press a sweet kiss to your nose. âgood girl.â
W E E KÂ T H I R T E E N
you think, fleetingly, that youâre not being fair.Â
but then you remember that girl â girl, because she canât be any older than eighteen, fresh out of high school and far too young to be sniffing around your boyfriend â and how she pressed close to jihoon as she showed him something on her computer, and you canât help but think youâre not being harsh enough.Â
with that in the forefront of your mind, you ease the hot pink dildo in your aching cunt. you can feel fluid gush from your pussy, a slick combination of your own desire and the generous amount of lube you had massaged onto the dildo.Â
the stretch burns, stretching the walls of your pussy. itâs a stark, acute contrast to the three fingers you used to stretch yourself, and you couldnât help but arch your back up off of jihoonâs couch, toes curling and mouth dropping open.Â
you can feel the fluids leak down your pussy, sliding along the curve of your ass.Â
good, you think. sink into the fabric of the couch so from now on, whenever he sits here, he has to smell your cunt.Â
your hand stills once the base of the dildo is flush against your ass. you shift, hips tilting as you try to relieve some of the sting.Â
you stretch out for your phone, glancing at the time. the dildo is pushed from your pussy by the movement.Â
jihoon will be home any minute. your hand returns to the dildo, pushing it back into your pussy. your cunt sucks it in, eager and greedy.Â
clenching down on the dildo, you canât help the thrill of satisfaction that shoots through you. you feel so delightfully full, as if some part of you was a gaping hole that needed to be filled.Â
well âÂ
you suppose that line of thought isnât too wrong.Â
you grab the dildo, fingernails digging slightly into the jelly-like texture. you slide the dildo from your cunt. despite how much lube you used, despite how wet your cunt is, the dildo still is slow to slide out, your pussy clamping down to try and keep it in place.Â
you pull it out until just the tip of the dildo is pressed against your hole. your juices glint evilly on the dildo, a long, thick string along the side of it.Â
slowly you ease it back inside. you tip your head back, foot pressing down on the cushion of the couch in an attempt to mentally steady yourself. itâs a dragging sensation that has impatience licking at your brain, trying to push its way to the forefront.Â
you pump the dildo in and out, in and out, until you are satisfied that the burn from your pussy stretching to accommodate it is no more.Â
you draw it out.Â
and then you force it back in, sharp enough for the gelatin balls to slap against your ass in a poor mimicry of the real thing.Â
your free hand goes to your tit, framing a pebbled nipple between two of your fingers. you massage it, pull it, as you harshly fuck the dildo in, soft pants escaping your mouth as your body begins to ignite with pleasure and the wanton desire for more.Â
you canât help but want. itâs as if the desire is written into your dna, lining the fabric of your entire being. you want to be fucked, want to be thrown onto your front and taken from behind; want jihoon fucking his fat cock into your pussy in one swift motion, forcing your pussy to stretch around him.Â
you want jihoon.Â
you could devour him, you think as you crook the dildo up towards the front of your body, searching for your g-spot. you would devour him whole. you would take and take from him until heâs entirely yours, body and soul.Â
the lock to the door clicks. you hurriedly bring the fingers messing with your nipple up to your mouth, licking at them before taking the nub between them and rolling.Â
the front door to jihoonâs apartment swings open, your boyfriend stepping through. his eyes immediately catch on you, naked and wanton.Â
âwhat â fuck ââ he shoves the door shut behind him, loud and firm. âwhat the fuck are you doing?!â
you slide the dildo from your pussy, slow and torturous, ensuring heâs watching. jihoonâs eyes, naturally, flick down to your pussy. the dildo is still slick with fluid, and you can where the more dense of your fluids stain the pink of the dick.Â
âwhat are you doing,â he repeats, dropping his leather bag to the floor.Â
âtaking matters â ah,â you moan out, massaging your gummy g-spot with the head of the dick. âtaking matters into my own hands, jihoon; what else?â
his hands go to his shirt. jihoon hurriedly pushes at the buttons of his white dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor after heâs done. his trousers follow suit, and he leaves them behind with his shoes and socks.Â
âwhat are you doing?â you grin at jihoon toothily, echoing his words. âno sex, remember?â
jihoon moves towards you regardless. he had done his hair that morning, gelling it back. now a few stray strands frame his temples, giving him a perfectly disheveled look. his tank top does nothing to conceal his collar bones, the line of his shoulders proud and wide.Â
his hands find your thighs. he separates your legs, baring your pussy entirely.Â
you still your hand, just keeping the dildo snug inside of you, refusing to move it further. âwhat are you doing, jihoon?â
âlooking,â he retorts, eyes dancing around your body as he takes you in. you think you look like some perverted creature, carnal desire and desperation written onto every centimeter of skin.Â
âdonât touch,â you chide him, moving an leg from his grasp. jihoon tightens his hold on the other as you press your foot against his chest, lightly pressing in a piss-poor attempt to push him back.Â
jihoon rolls his eyes at you, nose crinkling and mouth twisting into a sneer.Â
âoh,â you breathe out, sheathing the dildo fully inside once more. his eyes meet yours. you let a grin take over, unable to help but tease him. ââoh, the agony! i am agony!â isnât that right, hoonie?â
for a split second you can see shock take over jihoonâs features, catlike eyes widening. a strike of triumph hits you, feeling as if you are the cat that got the canary.Â
but then jihoon is grabbing the dildo from your hand. he pulls it out, the slide making your mouth drop in a gasp and body arch up off of the couch.Â
âh â hoonie â!â
âagony,â he hisses, and then jihoon is shoving his boxers down to his knees.Â
his cock bounces from his underwear, slapping against the fabric of his tank-top. itâs thick and angry, and when he runs his hand along it, rubbing at the head, a thick marble of precum leaks from it.Â
âno â no sex,â you say, voice hoarse as you subconsciously keep your eyes on his cock. youâve been starving for jihoonâs dick for so long, and here it is, thick and pulsing in front of you.Â
and like a starving woman in front of a table overflowing with food, you eagerly welcome jihoonâs dick when he presses the tip against your hole. you spread your legs, knees knocking against his hips as he presses against you.Â
jihoon keeps his dick in hand, not entering you. he rubs his dick up between your folds, a soft curse escaping his lips at how wet you are. once heâs at your clit he stops, rubbing the head of his dick against you.Â
âfuck ââ your voice is taking on a whining tone, and you canât help but fleetingly wonder what happened to you showing jihoon whoâs boss, making him witness just what heâs missing. but that thought is gone from your mind as soon as it enters, and instead youâ/re pleading with jihoon. âplease, hoonie â please fuck me, please.â
he sighs, the tip of his cock pressing against your hole. still, he doesnât enter you. âi thought we agreed on no sex,â he says. âno sex until the semester is over.â
you cry out, hips trying to shift upwards and force his dick inside. jihoon pulls back. âplease â put it in. it wonât count â wonât count if you donât cum in me, yeah? wonât count if i donât cum around your dick.â
jihoon lets out a loud, shivering groan that seems to release from the depths of his soul.Â
jihoon presses his dick into your cunt. the head pops past your entrance, and then heâs sliding home.Â
your pussy takes jihoon eagerly, sufficiently prepared by your fingers and the dildo. his dick is just slightly thicker than the dildo, and so there is a pleasurable sting that burns at your core. itâs not horrible, and you let out a moan as you cant your hips up.Â
jihoon doesnât stop pressing into you until his balls are against your ass. his hands are on either of your legs, keeping you spread for him. jihoon uses his grip on you to push himself back, bringing his cock out of your cunt slowly. the drag of his dick is delicious, is everything youâve been missing for months.Â
youâre not sure if this is just because you havenât been fucked appropriately since august and itâs in the middle of november, but you feel completely overwhelmed by jihoon.Â
his cock feels so good inside of you. itâs thick and warm, and when he shifts his dick presses up towards your core. his blunt head presses against your g-spot, and you canât help the little mewl of approval that escapes you.Â
âfeels good,â he breathes out. his eyes flutter, nails digging into your skin. âyou feel so fucking good.â
jihoon pulls his hips back, leaving your pussy save for the tip of his dick. he lingers, the fat head of his dick keeping you plugged.Â
when jihoon thrusts in, itâs rough and well-aimed for your g-spot. you let out a shrill noise, eyes rolling back. you donât know if sex has ever felt like this before â if youâve ever felt so overwhelmed just by a single thrust.Â
your hands scramble, grabbing at the couch. âhoonie!â
he slides out; fucks back in.Â
jihoonâs pace is rough, as if heâs making up for lost time. as if heâs determined to mold your pussy back into the shape of his dick. he uses your pussy, uses you. he uses your cunt in an almost detached way, as if you were some random fuck and not his treasured girlfriend.Â
eventually jihoon is pulling from your cunt with a strangled moan. his dick is drenched with your fluids, thick strings decorating it like lewd jewelry. jihoon palms his dick, and then heâs thrusting into his hand once, twice, thrice before he cums onto your stomach.Â
he lets out a moan, a gasp of your own joining. his cum is thick and hot. you want to shove it into your pussy.Â
jihoonâs hands go back to your thighs, and then heâs dropping to his knees.Â
âcanât wait to fuck you,â he groans, âcanât wait to fill you up. as soon as finals are over, youâre mine. got it? youâre mine.â
then his tongue is licking a stripe up from your cunt to your clit, and all other thoughts leave you.Â
W E E KÂ S I X T E E N
the lecture hall, just like most of the rest of campus, is nearly deserted.Â
you had left your apartment as soon as the email about your final grade dinged your phone, delight and want immediately turning at your stomach. you had been looking forward to this day for months: the day you and jihoon were finally free to fuck (and publicly be in a relationship, but that wasnât the most pressing matter at the moment).Â
jihoon was at the front of the large room, talking to the last stragglers of the exam he had to oversee. you rush down the steps, unable to help the broad smile on your face.Â
your boyfriend looks up as you thunder down the auditorium, and you catch the moment his own face breaks out into a wide grin.Â
he calls out your name as you step off of the last step.Â
the student heâs talking to waves goodbye, and you take the spot where he had been standing.Â
âhey,â you say, unable to keep your smile tamed. âhowâs it going?â
jihoon rolls his eyes at you, folding his arms over his chest. this close to him you could smell his cologne, the sharp smells of amber and vanilla. he was wearing his white dress shirt again, though this time it was dressed up with a simple black tie.Â
âglad itâs over,â jihoon murmurs.Â
you glance around the room. thereâs two girls at the back, talking excitedly as one of them packs up their things.Â
âtook you forever to grade the exams.â
jihoon scoffs. âas if. you turned it in last night at midnight.â
you shrug. the girls begin to make their way out of the room, calling out good-byes to jihoon.Â
âall things considered,â he says, raising a hand in acknowledgement towards the girls, âthis semester wasnât so bad.â
you laugh at him. âitâs been agony to me,â you say, knowing how loaded the word is for the both of you.Â
the heavy wooden doors shut solemnly behind the girls. itâs as if a switch flicks off in jihoonâs mind. his eyes visibly soften before you, his smile taking on a gentler shape.Â
âi missed you,â he says. he doesnât say anything else; that isnât jihoonâs way. heâd write a thousand poems for you and keep them locked away. heâll say three words, i missed you, and his meaning will include a hundred other things: i love you; i adore you; i want you close to me always; you bewitch me.Â
âi missed you, too,â you echo, hoping he feels the weight of your simple response.Â
jihoon keeps his face passive as he opens his arms, and you go easily into his embrace. you burrow your face into his neck, breathing him in. he wraps his thick arms around you, pressing you close to his body.Â
for a moment the two of you just exist in this little universe.Â
jihoon is the first to pull away, though he doesnât go far. as if magnetic, you tilt your lips towards him, meeting his mouth halfway.Â
the kiss begins gentle and solemn. itâs the end of a sentence, finishing the semester, which had been filled with tension and desperation, with a sweet embrace and soft lips.Â
you separate your mouth from his. you skim your lips along his chin, following the edge of his jaw. you trace the edges of his face with your mouth, trying to memorize the shape of him.Â
âi missed you,â you say again.Â
jihoon is silent. he sinks a hand into your hair, cradling the back of your head. he guides your face back to his, his lips pressing a long kiss to yours.Â
this time when jihoon kisses you itâs firm. his mouth is insistent against yours, devouring you in a way that leaves you breathless. he presses you back, his tongue sliding past your lips.Â
jihoon walks you backwards until your thighs are bumping against the table. he keeps your head still, tongue licking into your mouth and exploring.Â
his free hand slides beneath your shirt, grabbing at the flesh of your hip.Â
âhoonie,â you say, pulling back from his mouth. jihoon hums, pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth. âwant you.â
âgot me,â he returns.Â
despite his gentle words, jihoonâs hands move quickly against you. he tosses your shirt and bra aside, mouth attaching to your neck as soon as you are bare. his hand slides down to the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping past it. jihoon presses open-mouthed kisses to your skin, eager to reefamiliarize himself with your body entirely. his nips at the curve of your tit, and then his mouth is suckling at a pebbled nippple.Â
you whine against him. you run your hands overh im. you feel the curve of his own pecs, feel the flat plane of his stomach, still hidden by his shirt. you tug at his tie, and then youâre molding your hand against his straining erection.Â
jihoon groans against you. âcareful,â he says.Â
âwe shouldnât get too carried away,â you return. your fingers find the button of his trousers nonetheless. itâs the easiest thing to pop it through the hole, loosening his pants. âwe should go home. anyone could walk in.â
ââoh, the agony,ââ jihoon says, and then heâs turning you around and pressing you against the table.Â
heâs quick to pull your pants and underwear to your ankles. jihoon helps you step out of them, leaving them in a discarded mess by the leg of the table.Â
he smooths his hands over your legs and thighs as he stands, his tough heavy and warm. jihoon positions you; slides his hand along your leg and pushes it up onto the table, foot dangling over the edge.Â
he slides two of his fingers inside of your pussy. you clench down on the intrusion, biting down on your lip.Â
âdonât ââ you sigh out, turning over your shoulder to look at him. âiâm ready.â
jihoon blinks at you for a moment, and then heâs cursing. âslut,â he says, though his lips twitch up into a grin.Â
he doesnât bother undressing all the way. you can feel the fabric of his pants bunch against your ass when his cock is buried deep inside. his cock stretches you so delightfully. you feel as if youâre finally whole after an eternity of missing something.Â
maybe you really are a slut.Â
jihoon slides his dick out slowly, making you feel every centimeter of his cock. the glide is nearly on the side of too-dry, but your eyes roll back nonetheless, nails scraping against the wood of the table.Â
âfuck,â he breathes out, and then heâs punching his dick back into your pussy.Â
you rock forward on the table, the edge of it digging into you. you donât mind it. instead you push back, meeting his thrust.Â
âmissed you,â jihoon says. you wonder if heâs talking about your pussy. you wouldnât blame him if he was: you missed his cock, afterall.Â
you missed out his dick feels within you, heavy and stretching you out. you missed how he fucks into you, how his hips slap against your ass. you missed the sting of him fucking you, the sting of skin against skin coupled with the electric sparks of pleasure that shoot through you when the blunt head of his cock hits your g-spot.Â
jihoon fucks you as if you were reuniting. which, you suppose, you are. he fucks you as if heâs treasuring each thrust, as if heâs making sure each rock of his hips is perfect to make up for lost time.Â
you can feel the fabric of his shirt when jihoon presses his front against your back. his black tie dangles beside your face. he uses his weight to keep you against the table, his hips picking up pace.Â
he practically jackrabbits into your pussy, hips frantic.Â
âmissed you,â he says, and then heâs grabbing your face to press another open-mouthed kiss to your lips. thereâs no finesse: itâs just as messy as the way he fucks you. spit slides from mouth to mouth, tongues meeting and tangling.Â
heâs devouring you, you realize. heâs gobbling you up, owning you inside and out.Â
jihoon reaches down, his fingers finding your clit easily. he slips his fingers against your clit, the wetness of your pussy making the glide easy. his fingers against your clit are just as frantic as his hips fucking into you, and the combined sensation brings your orgasm crashing down around you more quickly than you would like.Â
he slows his hips to a stop as you cum around his cock, whining high at the back of your throat. itâs overwhelming. you havenât cum around his dick in months. his cock stretches you still, and every minute shift of your hips back against him has his dick pressing against all the sensitive places.Â
âgood?â his voice is raspy against your hair.Â
you nod.Â
jihoon pulls back, and you hiss at the feeling of his dick leaving your pussy.Â
he doesnât stay gone for long. jihoon maneuvers you onto your back. he grabs each of your thighs, holding them up and baring you to him. you can feel the juices of your release as they slide down your cunt.Â
he thrusts back in. immediately youâre tossing your head back against the table, eyes rolling back. your toes curl.Â
jihoon hooks your legs over the crook of each of his arms, and then heâs setting a harsh pace once again. his grunts are loud againsts the quiet of the room, the slapping of skin against skin sending heat rushing up towards your face. you feel too high strung, feel as if your neurons and electrons are buzzing around underneath your skin. you want to move away from his cock and how it tortures you, pressing against your g-spot as sensitivity rears its ugly head; you want to fuck down onto his dick until youâre unable to walk.Â
when jihoon cums, itâs copious. itâs too much. you feel his dick throb within you as he spills, filling you with hot seed. itâs so much; you want more.Â
jihoon pulls his dick from your pussy only once heâs finished. he isnât done with you, though.Â
he slaps his palm against your cunt, the sensation acute and electric.Â
you want to cry. you donât want him to ever stop.Â
jihoon slaps your cunt again, and then heâs hooking three of his fingers inside of your pussy. he thrusts him inside in the same fashion he did his cock: harshly, roughly. the sting of his knuckles against your flesh isnât unlike the sting of his hips.Â
when you cum, itâs with a loud sob. he presses the fingers of his free hand against your clit, rubbing it once more while his fingers keep pressing up against your g-spot, relentless in his mission of wringing you dry.Â
after itâs over, you hold out your arms.Â
jihoon gathers you into his embrace easily, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you know you should hurry and dress, know that itâll be a matter of time before someone wanders into the room.Â
you donât care.Â
instead you just bask in the attention of your boyfriend, forehead pressing to his shoulder.Â