Summary: You were going through all of the relationship experiences for the first time with Spencer - the highs, the lows and the bumps in the road.
Warnings: SMUTTTT!! MxF smut, penetration, fingering F receiving, some dom x sub themes, hints of choking, Spider being absolutely desperate for reader, I think that’s everything? and cursing, hints of unhealthy familial relationships
Word Count: 8.1k
Author’s Note: This might be my favourite chapter so farrrrr?? thank you for all the love on this series i love y’all
This needed to be good. The thought of getting this scholarship was enough to ease at least half of the worries you had about going to college. It would iron out the stress you let overwhelm you about your future and actually make you think that things would work out okay.
But maybe it wouldn’t be that simple.
Sasha would want this too. And lord knows Missy would do anything she could to stop you from winning. And what about Spencer? You two had never much spoken about what he’d do after school. He always joked that he’d try to make it to the end of high school before worrying about the next step. But the next step was coming sooner, and maybe this scholarship would be what he needed too.
You were meeting with the professors of the university today and all you’d been told is that it had to be professional. You’d tried on three different outfits, changed your hair from up to half up half down. You’re interrupted by the piercing sound of a car horn outside, beeping once and then once more.
Grabbing your bag, you hurry down the stairs and outside to where Spencer is waiting in the car. He’s dressed in a shirt and tie, one hand resting on the steering wheel as he leans out of the window.
“Are you trying to make me late, (Y/l/n)?”
You roll your eyes, “It takes effort to look this good.”
“You look beautiful,” He agrees, leaning over to kiss you softly, “Very beautiful.”
“Keep it in your pants, Spencer,” You poke at his chest as if in a feeble attempt to push him away from you, “I meant what I said, we’ve got to be professional if we want this thing to go well.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer fake salutes, reversing out of the driveway with his arm on the back of your chair.
“A college scholarship, Spence, can you even imagine?” You shake your head, “It would make things so much less stressful.”
“You know,” He indicates at the junction, “I’m not even sure if I want to win, or I just want to make sure that Missy and Sasha don’t.”
You laugh, smoothing your hands over the material of your skirt, “They probably feel the same about us two.”
“Maybe, but you’re smarter than they are,” He points out, “You’ve got more of a chance.”
“What about you?” You ask him, looking over at the sharp features of his side profile focused on the road ahead of him.
“I’m not smarter than you,” He laughs, merging onto the highway.
You don’t respond, waiting for him to actually answer your question.
“I never really thought about college, really,” He shrugs, “Mum always said I probably couldn’t stick at it anyway. Maybe she’s right, I’m never good at sticking to much. I thought about it before and thought fuck it, maybe I could go and prove her wrong, or prove everyone wrong I guess. Like just to show everyone I wasn’t some school fuck up that would never leave this place.”
“Spencer you’re not a fuck up,” You frown at the way he talks about himself.
He was so willing to show you love, and yet it seemed near impossible for him to show any to himself. You’d never heard him outwardly talk about himself like this but it turned your stomach.
“But, I don’t know,” He shrugs again, “It would probably be worse to go to university to prove everyone wrong and then… actually fail.”
“You wouldn’t fail.”
He glances over at you and sees the furrow between your eyebrows, the slight pout in your lips that happened involuntarily when you were really concerned.
“Hey, what’s that face for?” He reaches up a hand and taps your chin gently, turning back to the road and letting his hand rest on your thigh.
“I just… I can’t believe you don’t think you could do it,” You say softly, “I don’t think there’s much you can’t do.”
“I still can’t play sudoku, I’ve tried, just can’t figure out the boxes and the lines.”
“Spencer,”
You say it in that tone that he’d learnt meant you were falling somewhere in the realm of ‘let’s be serious now’. But it sounded a little bit more like ‘I know you’re trying to be funny but now’s not the time’.
“I’m fine, darling, don’t worry about me,” He indicates off at the junction, “Shouldn’t you be more worried about meeting these professors? Normal (Y/n) would be talking my ear off about how much she had to prepare for.”
You settle your hand over his on your thigh and trace your fingertips over his knuckles, swirling patterns over the skin.
Another thing you’d never realised you had to worry about with relationships was what happened with the next step. And there was always going to be a next step. What if you two ended up at different colleges? How far away could you be that it would still work? How would you do the long distance? You’d never known anything other than living mere metres from each other. And then what after that? Do you find your own place? Do you throw caution to the wind and travel? When is it time to settle and when, or if, would you regret settling so early? You were only eighteen and you couldn’t imagine spending your life without Spencer. Was that too soon to feel like that?
Before you can overthink it any more, Spencer pulls into his parking space and shuts off the car. He steps out of his side and you step out of yours, watching as he reaches into the back seats to pull out his suit jacket. It’s a grey suit with a black tie, the colour seeming to make his features sharper and more crisp. His eyes piercing, his skin more golden.
You walk around to his side of the car, feeling oddly underdressed in your dress next to him. It was a pretty dress, of course, but here was Spider practically ready for a wedding.
“Well don’t you scrub up well,” You raise your eyebrows at him, fingers reaching out to smooth down the material of his tie.
Spencer brings his hands to your forearms, trailing his fingers down the skin to leave goosebumps in their absence, your whole body practically on the verge of trembling beneath his touch. He leans in just enough that his lips are inches from yours, so much so that you go to close the gap between you, craving the contact.
Just as Spencer pulls away.
“What happened to being back in the friend zone?” He raises his brows at you, a teasing smirk toying at his lips, “You said so yourself, back in school we’re strictly professional.”
“I hate you,” You roll your eyes at him, pulling away from his hands to walk across the grounds.
Spencer laughs and rushes to catch up with you, “I mean, if you don’t think you can resist me…”
“I can resist you just fine,” You narrow your eyes at him, “In fact, it should be easy.”
“Easy, huh?” He nods, “We’ll see.”
You walk through the school hallways with him beside you until the two of you reach Woodsy’s office.
“Good morning you two!” She smiles brightly when she sees you, “Well, don’t you two make a lovely pair!”
“Are you sure you’re allowed to say that, Miss?” Spencer raises his brows at her.
She rolls her eyes but quickly opts to ignore him, “(Y/n), how are you feeling about today?”
“I’m okay, a little nervous but I’m looking forward to it.”
Missy and Sasha walk in not long after. Missy’s wearing an oversized suit jacket and a skirt. For a moment you convince yourself she could’ve stepped right out of a magazine. She looks you up and down and the hints of a smirk toy at her features.
“Cute outfit,” She forces a smile at you.
Your instincts convince you to say ‘thank you’ but you suppress it. The sarcasm was laced in her words and you couldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Are we ready to go?” Woody persists, standing up from her desk and leading the four of you out of the room.
Spencer walks alongside you and fights the urge to squeeze your hand or wrap an arm around your waist. Every so often, his arm brushes yours and you’re back to those electric nerves that came from when he first touched you.
You’re taken to one of the classrooms and there are four professors in the room - each one looking more intimidating than the last. You take a deep breath and offer them a smile, trying to convince both them and you that you were way more confident than you were. Woodsy introduces everyone and explains how the session would work. You could go around to each one and they’d ask you about your intentions for the future and for the project, and then you could ask questions to the professors to help guide your project in the right direction and ultimately convince them that you were worthy of this scholarship. You hadn’t really thought much about what you’d do the project on. In fact, you were hoping inspiration would strike at one point but it still hadn’t. Sasha and Missy probably already had theirs planned out. And Spencer was annoyingly good at thinking of things on the spot. You weren’t so sure about yourself. You’d have to think of something.
One of the older professors approaches you, a woman with greying hair and deep laughter lines, her eyes are a piercing blue and she smiles at you with an old coldness that doesn’t ease the worry in your chest.
“Hello, you’re (Y/n) correct?” She smiles again, outstretching a hand for you to shake, “It’s lovely to meet you (Y/n) and I must say, your transcript is incredible. Tell me a bit about what you hope to do with this opportunity.”
“Um,” You clear your throat, “It’s lovely to meet you too. I think I’d like to… you know, do something for the students. Um, you know, to make the students… happier.”
The lady nods but you can tell she’s a little unsure, “Okay, and what would that be?”
You glance over at Spencer who’s talking to one of the other professors. He says something and the man throws his head back in a laugh. He was so natural. Anybody could like him, in any crowd. You weren’t sure how he did it but you couldn’t blame anyone for taking a liking to him like they did. You did too.
“I’d like to do something for…” You turn back to the woman, “Kids who feel like they’re not seen. The kids that feel like they’re invisible at the school. Something like debate clubs and forums where students can raise their concerns and actual outcomes come from the debates. At school it feels like you can slip through the cracks so easily if you’re not the loudest in the room. I did, for years, and I want to stop that from happening to other people
“Okay, I like that,” The woman beams, “Let’s talk about how we’re going to make that happen.”
———
You spend the rest of the session speaking to the other professors, getting slightly more confident about your project by the time you were done. The professors leave with Woodsy walking them out and the four of you remain in the class.
“Well, Spider, how did you manage to convince them you weren’t a total cunt?” Sasha tilts her head at him, “That must be near impossible for you.”
“How did you convince them you weren’t a man-hating bitch who-“ He stops himself when he looks over at you, turning back to her and taking a deep breath, “They seemed to like my ideas, actually.”
“I find it hard to believe they could like anything about you,” Missy scoffs, scrolling through her phone as if wanting to remind the room that she was completely unbothered.
You walk over to Spencer and lean against the desk with him, your arm brushing his as you cross your arms to avoid reaching out for his hand, “What ideas did you two give them?”
Sasha looks at you and then at Spencer before turning her attention to just you, “I think we need to improve nutrition and reduce meat consumption by having two vegan days in the canteen.”
“Fuck me, that sounds like hell,” Spider laughs and you nudge his side.
“What about you Missy?”
“Why are you talking to me?” She scrunches her face up at you as if the idea of your interaction is sickening to her.
“Well, if you think it’s so hard for them to like Spencer, I’m just curious as to what bright ideas you came up with.”
Maybe being with Spider had already improved your confidence, or perhaps just improved your ability to stand up for yourself. But you didn’t feel that anxiety to respond to her like that, not in the way you’d normally expect to. You’re glad you stand your ground, that you stand up for him.
“More non-male sports clubs,” She states simply.
You raise your brows, “Interesting.”
“Can we leave or what? I’m not fucking waiting around if I don’t have to,” Missy snaps, “I’d rather be anywhere else.”
“Yeah you and me both,” Spencer mutters under his breath as the two of them walk out of the room, the door shutting behind them.
He looks down at you and a grin spreads onto his lips, his eyes bright.
“Where did that little spark come from ay?” He grins down at you, “Who are you and what have you done with (Y/n)?”
You laugh and stand up straight from the table, “Oh shut up Spec.”
“Nah, I’m serious, that was fucking hot.”
You feel your cheeks heat up at his words but you quickly force yourself to ignore it, “Come on, we’re going to be late to class.”
———
You manage to go the rest of the day treating Spencer like a friend, though you’re constantly desperate to reach out for him at any given chance. You were practically counting down the minutes until school was over. This was a stupid challenge between the two of you, a stupid stupid idea.
You’re just crossing over the grounds to get to his car when someone stops you.
“(Y/n)!”
You turn around to see a boy you recognised from your Spanish class. He’s tall and lanky and you vaguely remember him dating a girl in your class last year. They split up because of something but you couldn’t quite remember. Thomas. You think that was his name.
“I’m Thomas, we have the same Spanish class,” He scratches at the back of his neck, “I just- well, I just wanted…”
You feel your brows furrow in anticipation for what he was about to say.
“I was just wondering if maybe I could get your number and we could… maybe go on a date some time?” He looks down at his shoes when he asks you, evidently too nervous to focus on your eyes, “I just think you’re really pretty and I-“
The rest of his words seem to blur in front of you. Was he really asking you out? How was this happening? This was the first time anything like this had ever happened to you. And all you could think about was Spencer waiting at his car for you, watching the entire scene unfold.
“Oh,” That’s all you manage to get out, “That’s a lovely offer Thomas but I-“
“(Y/n)!”
The word comes from Spencer but his voice sounds much more like a bellow than you’d ever heard him use to say your name before. You glance over your shoulder to see him stood leaning against the side of the car mere feet from you, his keys dangling in one hand before he wraps a clenched fist around the metal.
“Are you ready to go?”
You look back at Thomas and offer him a sympathetic smile, “See you tomorrow, Thomas.”
You hurry across the short distance of the grounds over to where Spencer is waiting for you.
“Oh my god did you hear that he-“
“Get in the car, (Y/n).”
His jaw is clenched and his knuckles are turning white around the keys in his hand. You’d not seen him like this, especially not directed at you. He gets into the car in silence and shuts the door beside him, starting up the car and driving off without saying another word. In fact, he doesn’t say anything for a good half of the drive until you decide you can’t bear the silence any longer.
“Spencer, I didn’t…” You clear your throat, “I was going to tell him that we were seeing each other. I wouldn’t have given him my number.”
“I know that.”
His response is cold and yet his grip on the steering wheel seems near white hot.
Was he mad at you? Should you have reacted differently? Was he worried? Why was he acting like this?
He pulls into the driveway and gets out of the car, walking around towards his front door. You pause momentarily as you get out of the passenger side, unsure of the next move in a moment like this. Spencer unlocks the door and looks back at you expectantly.
“Come on.”
You walk the short distance into his house and he closes the front door behind you, locking it as soon as it shuts. His Mum was away on some sort of retreat this week. You remembered because he’d told you how much he was looking forward to having the house to himself.
“Spence, that guy was just-“
“A fucking cunt, yeah that’s what he was,” He snaps back at you, “Who the fuck does he think he is?”
You hop up onto the kitchen counter and let your legs dangle over the side, your hands in your lap. At least he wasn’t annoyed at you. There was a tension in his shoulders, a fury in his eyes that you’d never seen directed like this at you. Not at you, you suppose, but just in your vicinity. He’s already discarded his suit jacket, his tie now loose around his neck and the first couple of buttons of his shirt undone.
“What is his problem? Is it not already fucking obvious enough that we’re together?” Spencer continues, “Do I need to fucking spell it out for him?”
“Well, people are used to seeing us together, coming into school and everything. Maybe he just thinks we’re still friends,” You shrug, following his pacing path around the room.
“That dickhead needs to open his fucking eyes and back off from my girl.”
You feel your heart stop for just a second. His girl. You liked the sound of that.
Spencer stops in his tracks and turns to you, his shoulders softening, “Sorry, I shouldn’t be yelling, especially not at you.”
He walks over and takes one of your hands. Your heart seems to skip once again at his touch, his eyes still burning in their anger, yours weak in your desire.
“(Y/n)?” Spencer dips his head to try and catch your gaze, his eyes desperate to find yours.
“Say it again.”
The words leave your lips before you have a chance to think about it. And when your eyes lock with his, it’s as if you watch his darken in the lustful realisation of what you meant.
“(Y/n) (Y/l/n) do you like the idea of him knowing you’re mine?” Spencer cocks a brow at you, his hand on your waist, his hips desperate to draw closer to you.
You swallow the thick lump in your throat and look up at him through your lashes. He practically groans at the sight, at the way you make him weak with just one look.
He keeps his eyes on yours as he moves his hand from your waist and onto your thigh, the bare skin just below the hem of your dress. He toys at the hem, his hand drawing underneath the material to crawl up your upper thigh. His fingertips reach the lace material of your underwear and, painstakingly slowly, he pushes the material aside. You gasp at the contact as his fingers reach your heat, a blush crawling to your cheeks at him realising the effect he’d had on you. His lips curl up into a smirk as your forehead drops forward onto his, your eyes closing.
His middle finger drags over your slick folds, his other hand gripping your waist to stop you from bucking up into him.
“Spencer, please,” You breathe out, near squirming at even his gentlest touch.
“Good girl,” Spencer mumbles, the pad of his thumb moving to press the slightest pressure to where you needed him most, the sensitive bud already swollen in your arousal.
You whimper at the contact, your head dropping to rest on his shoulder, pressing into his muscles to suppress your desire.
He’s quick to move his hand from your waist to your chin, tilting your head back up so he could see your eyes. When his eyes lock with yours, he moves his hand just slightly lower, his wide grasp wrapping around your neck. He doesn’t apply too much pressure, just keeps his hand there as if wanting to remind you once more that you were completely at his mercy. You felt your arousal grow ever more at the feeling as he swirled teasing circles around your clit, watching the way you gasp at his movements.
“What would he do if he saw you now?” Spencer mutters into the hot air between the two of you, “If he could see how wet you are for me.”
You whimper as he picks up his torturous pace, his eyes not leaving yours as he continues circling the bundle of nerves to watch you chase your high. He can feel you clenching around nothing as the coil seems to tighten in your stomach, threatening to snap.
“Spence I’m go-“
“Not yet,” He’s breathless just watching you.
And, all too quickly, he pulls his hand away. You whimper, this time at the loss of contact. His hands instead move to your waist as he lifts you up from the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around him. He carries you the short distance over to the couch and lowers you down onto the fabric, smiling as the sight as your hair splays onto the cushion behind you.
“So beautiful,” He whispers as you lean up onto your elbows.
He finds the hem of your dress once more, slowly pulling the flowing material up and over your head. Before you get the chance to feel self conscious in front of him, Spencer’s fingertips trail over your collarbones, down past the curve of your bra and then across your stomach until he reaches your underwear. He looks into your eyes and waits for you to nod at him before he starts to tug them down your thighs. You reach for the buckle of his trousers and go to tug them off too, giggling at the struggle to get them pulled down. Spencer lets out a breathy laugh too, tossing your panties to the floor before kicking his trousers and boxers the rest of the way down his legs. His tie dangled in the space between you before you reach up to tug it off, throwing it somewhere to be forgotten.
He dips back down to kiss you, passionately and messily and desperately, one hand positioned beside you on the couch as the other moved to line up his dick with your entrance. He looks into your eyes once more, his forehead pressing against yours with increasing pressure as he pushes into your entrance. You still gasp at the first time, gripping the shirt material around his shoulders with a stifled whimper.
“Good girl,” He dips his head down to whisper the words into your ear, watching the shudder grow through your body at the simple words.
His thrusts are slow and intentional, drawing in and out of you as if wanting to perfect every second of his movements. His eyes are back on yours, watching every single one of your reactions to him, the way you gasp when he reaches that perfect spot, the way you bite your lip as he bottoms out against you. He’s sure he could watch you forever, watch the effect he had on you.
You grip onto his shirt tighter, bundling the material into your hands as he quickens his pace, thrusting in and out of you more sloppily now that he was chasing his own high too.
“Be loud for me, darling,” He groans breathlessly between thrusts, “Let me hear you.”
His head drops down to your neck, kissing and biting at the skin as you let out all of the moans you’d been suppressing. You whimper, groan, mumble incoherent curses in between his name.
“Fuck, Spence,” You moan, your head pressing back against the couch as one hand flies to his hair, tightening your grip on his blonde locks.
“My girl,” He groans into the crook of your neck, echoed by the sound of his skin slapping yours harder.
You whimper, your back arching from the couch to fill the nonexistent space between you.
“Cum for me doll,” He pulls back just enough to watch you come undone upon his command.
A near-scream escapes your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head as you press back into the couch, your body shuddering as you finish around him. A few short thrusts after, Spencer pulls out and finishes over your stomach with a curse of your name, his legs weakening as he catches himself on his arms to stop himself falling into you.
Your chests heave in rhythm, your muscles relaxing as he brings up a hand to brush the hair away from your face, smiling down at the sight.
“Are you okay?” He asks softly, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek.
You open your eyes and smile lazily up at him, nodding tiredly as you drag a hand through his hair, “More than okay.”
He kisses you softly before standing up from the couch, tugging his boxers back on walking over to the kitchen and bringing you a towel and a glass of water. He comes back over and unbuttons his shirt, handing that to you too as you sit up on the couch. Spencer flops back down onto it, just in his boxers now, as you pull his shirt over you and return to your place - half tucked in the space beside him and half on top of him in the cramped width of the couch.
“Well that’s the first time I’ve ever done… that… on the couch,” Spencer comments, his fingers smoothing through your hair.
You prop yourself up onto your elbow, one hand on his chest, “Are you serious?”
He laughs, “Yeah why wouldn’t I be?”
You shake your head, “I don’t know.”
So much of your relationship with Spencer so far had felt like him showing you how things in relationships work. Because he’d done it all before. He’d already experienced it with someone else. It felt oddly exciting to be experiencing things for the first time with him.
“Perks of having the house to yourself I guess,” You giggle, turning your head to look around at the empty house.
“Shit, (Y/n)!” He half sits up, like he’s in a panic, his fingers moving to your neck to brush the hair away from the skin there.
His fingertips brush over a mark left in the crook of your neck, blotchy and seemingly turning more purple by the minute. There was still a sort of redness to your skin where he’d held your neck and he feels his stomach churn.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
You place your hand over his and make sure he’s looking into your eyes before you say, “Spence, it’s fine. I promise.”
He frowns for just a moment longer before accepting it, dropping back down onto the couch with one arm tucked underneath his head.
“Maybe guys at school should ask me out more often,” You toy, trailing a pattern around the soft skin of his torso.
Spencer outwardly laughs, “For their sake, they fucking shouldn’t.”
You giggle and he moves his hand up to tickle at your side. You squeal and writhe under his touch, the two of you twisting against each other on the couch as you try to fight back. Eventually, Spencer ends up on top of you, his hands pinning yours high above your head to stop you from getting him back. He leans down and kisses the tip of your nose, both of you breathing erratically.
“Although I wouldn’t mind reminding you that you’re mine,” He whispers softly, kissing you again.
———
The next week or so at school is spent focused between your classes and your project. You and Spencer had done a good job so far of keeping things professional, with Woodsy even commending you for it at one point. It was easy really. In fact, part of you liked the idea of only you and Spencer seeing your relationship. As soon as you were back in the car, his hand would be on your thigh, as soon as you were home he’d be kissing you. At school, that was all unknown.
“Why am I nervous?” Spider laughs, lacing his hand with yours as the two of you get out of the car.
“Because they’re terrifying,” You joke, squeezing his hand as you reach for the front door to open it.
Your parents had invited Spencer over for dinner since they’d insisted that they didn’t see enough of the two of you recently. Your Mum had told you that you were far too busy nowadays and so she’d planned to do a big dinner with you, Spencer and Spencer’s Mum Cait.
“Come on, you’ve grown up with them!” You encourage, “It’s no different.”
“Oh it’s absolutely different,” He scoffs, “What do you mean it’s not-“
“There you are!”
Your Mum beams brightly as the two of you walk in. Spencer’s hand is still wrapped with yours and you can tell he needs the reassurance from the touch.
“I thought you’d be here soon,” She smiles, “How was school? Was your day good?”
“Yeah, all good,” You nod, “We have the presentations for that project thing tomorrow.”
“Oh of course!” She exclaims, “Well they do keep you kids busy at that place. Come on, we’re all outside.”
You look up at Spencer and he seems to relax a little, both of you following your Mum outside to where your Dad and Cait are laughing about something. She’s holding a half-finished glass of white wine.
“Hey kids!” Your Dad grins when he sees you, standing up from his chair.
He walks right over and reaches out a hand to shake Spencer’s.
“Good to see you man, it’s been too long!”
He said that after not seeing Spencer for a week. Any longer and you think he’d be asking you more questions about your boyfriend than he did about you.
“Good to see you too,” Spencer grins and you see him fully relax now, feeling like he was back with old friends instead of whatever intimidating situation he thought he was going to walk into.
“Well I better get the barbecue started then ay? Spencer how good are you with a grill?” Your Dad clasps him on the shoulder, disappearing back into the house.
“Hello darling!” Cait beams, though her words are oddly directed towards you instead of her son, “Don’t you look beautiful!”
“Thanks Cait!” You smile, “Thanks for coming!”
“Oh any excuse to come round here,” She grins, “Especially now my son needs to impress his in-laws.”
“Thanks for that, Mum,” Spencer grimaces, “Do you want a drink darling?”
He places a hand on your back, smoothing a thumb over the material of your top, “Just water please.”
He kisses your head quickly before heading inside.
You knew things were never easy with him and his Mum. You’d always known it. But this was the first time since the two of you had started dating that both his Mum and your parents and the two of you were all together. You just wanted things to run smoothly. Just for one night.
———
Your Dad enrols Spencer to help him cook the dinner, telling him when to add something else to the grill and when things needed turning. You help your Mum bring out all the cold accompaniments, adorning the table with enough food to feed twice as many people as needed. Eventually, it’s all sprawled across the table outside and everyone’s drinks have been refilled. You and Spencer both had a beer, the same as your Dad, and the Mums were sharing another bottle of wine - though it seemed Cait was managing the majority of it herself.
“Oh you’re already a bad influence Spencer,” Cait tuts as her son walks over to sit in the seat beside you, a plate of burgers in his hand.
He looks at her with a frown, sitting down beside you.
“You’ve already got her drinking beer,” Cait points out, taking a sip from her glass, “(Y/n) you don’t have to just because he does.”
“Mum,” Spencer says the word with a hint of warning behind his tone, obvious to only you, “I’m pretty sure (Y/n) can drink what she wants.”
“Cant blame the girl for wanting a cold beer,” Your Dad grins, sitting perpendicular to Spencer at the top of the table, “She’s my daughter after all.”
“Right, everybody, tuck in please!” Your Mum encourages, “Spencer you’ve earned it after all that cooking.”
All of you fill your plates with the food, Spencer passing you everything before he took any for himself. He takes a swig of his beer and sets it back down. You can see the tension between his shoulders, the way he held himself a little straighter like he couldn’t properly relax in the present company. What worried you was that it wasn’t your parents he was nervous about.
“So, (Y/n) tells me you’ve been enjoying this new project at school Spencer,” Your Mum smiles, “She did tell me what you were doing it about but I’ve forgotten now.”
“Oh, yeah,” Spencer nods, “Mine’s putting in classes for anger management and increased support for students that feel like they’ve got nobody listening to them.”
“That’s wonderful,” Your Mum beams, “What a brilliant idea.”
“Oh yes, my Spencer is brilliant at trying to play the hero,” Cait speaks up, swirling the remaining wine around her glass, “If anything he could benefit from those classes.”
“Maybe,” Spencer clears his throat, “I always used sport to let out how I was feeling, how I am feeling, but that’s not always an option for people. So I think there should be other options.”
“Good on you son,” Your Dad nods, “Nothing wrong with acknowledging that, we all need our vices.”
Spencer smiles at him as if grateful that someone was on his side, thankful that someone didn’t think the worst of him.
“Oh you think far too much of that boy,” His mother laughs, “You should be worried about him treating your darling daughter the way she deserves.”
Spencer’s jaw clenches, his grip on his cutlery tightening. You watch on as Cait downs the rest of what’s in her glass.
“She deserves the world,” She tilts her empty glass towards you, “That boy won’t be able to give her that. He’d be lucky to make it out of school.”
“How about we ease up a little bit Mum?” Spencer swallows the lump in his throat, “We’ve got company.”
She scoffs, muttering something incoherent under her breath. You glance over to your Mum who looks at you with nothing but worry and then back to your Dad who offers the same expression to Spencer. Spencer just looks down at his food, his jaw yet to relax.
“I don’t need him to give me the world.”
You blurt out the words before you have a chance to stop them.
“I don’t need him to give me everything. He loves me, and he cares about me and we can see a future together. And I want him to be there for me as much as I want to be there for him,” You clear your throat, “You think Spencer needs to prove himself but he doesn’t. He doesn’t now and he never had to.”
Everyone’s eyes are on you. You’re focused on Cait and she looks back at you with a somewhat shocked expression, eyebrows raised. Your parents both look at you slightly dumbfounded, both hiding glimmers of pride for their daughter. And Spencer looks at you with the brightest eyes he can muster, his lips slightly parted as if no words were good enough.
“Well it seems you’ve taught her to speak up for herself too, Spencer,” Cait half-scoffs.
“Yeah,” Spencer breathes out, “I did.”
You cut at another piece of your food and eat another mouthful, silently encouraging everyone to do the same. And they do. Like it had never happened.
———
That night, Spencer opts to stay at your house. He goes up to bed earlier than you do, telling you and your parents that he had a headache he just couldn’t manage to shake. Nobody since had spoken about what happened with his Mum. The conversation had continued and she’d left not long after dessert. You were now in the kitchen with your parents washing up the last few glasses with your Dad as your Mum wiped down the counters.
You finish drying the last glass and set it into the cupboard, turning around and wiping your hands on the kitchen towel in your grasp.
“I don’t know why she talks about him like that,” You break the silence, looking at both of them for reassurance, “She thinks so little of him.”
“Cait was never going to be happy having a son,” Your Mum shakes her head, “He could’ve been any kind of person, and she’d have never been happy with him. He was always going to do something wrong.”
“But he’s a good kid,” Your Dad points out, “If you know that, it doesn’t matter what she thinks.”
“It’s just like-“ You shake your head, “People are always expecting him to fail. Like they’re just waiting for him to fuck up.”
“Then he’s just got to prove to them that he won’t,” Your Dad squeezes your shoulder, “And you’ve got to be there with him.”
“You do make beautiful couple,” Your Mum interjects.
You laugh a little and feel the tightness in your chest easing at their reassurance.
“I should go up to bed, busy day tomorrow,” You nod, walking towards the door.
They both say good night as you head up the stairs towards your bedroom. Spencer is sat at the foot of your bed, eyes scanning a piece of paper from his notebook.
“Hey,” You say softly, “I thought you’d be asleep.”
“No, just reading through this for tomorrow,” He responds, setting it down beside him before looking up at you with a tired smile.
You walk over to him and he wraps his arms around your thighs, his head at height with your stomach as you run your hands through his hair.
“How’s your head?”
He hums against the contact, looking up at you, “Better.”
You lean down and kiss his forehead and he tightens his hold around you, “I’m sorry about what happened with your Mum today.”
He shakes his head, “Don’t apologise. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Yeah, maybe,” You brush his hair away from his forehead, eyes flicking between his, “But it shouldn’t have to be.”
“It’s just because I’m short-tempered and I-“
“Spence,” You cup your hands on either side of his face, “You don’t have to make up excuses for her. You shouldn’t be treated like that, end of story.”
You lean down and kiss him softly and he hums against your lips, hands moving to the back of your thighs to draw you down onto his lap. He pulls away from you, his hands on your waist.
“Oh I love you,” He shakes his head, “I really fucking love you.”
You pull back, your expression baffled as your hands stop on his shoulders, “That’s the first time you’ve said that.”
You knew he did, you’d even told his mum earlier that he loved you. But that was the first time he’d verbally told you.
“Oh you knew I did,” He grins, flopping back onto the bed to leave you sat up on top of him, still straddling his hips.
“I love you too, Spec.”
———
The next day at school, you’re stood with Woodsy, Spencer, Missy and Sasha preparing for your presentations. The professors from the university were going to be there and they’d be making their decision today about who would be getting the scholarship.
You could tell Spencer’s attitude towards it all had shifted today. His Mum had got into his head last night, convincing him that any attempt for this to go his way was just pointless.
“(Y/n), can I have a word?” Woodsy distracts your thoughts, gesturing for you to join her on the opposite side of the room.
“Everything okay Miss?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I’ve heard some very good things about you from the professors, don’t ask me how I know this but it looks like they’re very interested in giving you the scholarship.”
“Wow, um, that’s great Miss, I guess it depends how this presentation goes.”
“Oh I don’t know (Y/n), you’d have to do a lot wrong to not get this,” She laughs exaggeratedly, “Seriously, they love you.”
“Thanks Miss.”
She walks off and Spencer walks over to take her place.
“Are you ready for this to be over?”
You hum and lean your head against his shoulder, reading over your notes one more time. He turns his head and kisses the top of your head.
“Excuse me Mr White that’s not very professional!”
He rolls his eyes at you, “I don’t care.”
You go back to resting against his shoulder as Woodsy runs through how the presentations would work.
“I’ll meet you afterwards okay?” Spencer says to you, squeezing your hand.
Missy’s presentation was first, then his, then Sasha’s and then yours.
There was a stage set up in the quad, the small group of you held in one room that had a door out onto the quad. There were already students waiting - mainly the people you knew. Spencer’s friends were on one side, yours on the other, Amerie, Harper, Quinn, Darren and Cash sprinkled in the middle.
You listen through the talks before your own. Spencer’s was ten times better than when he’d practised, he stumbled over his words once and then stopped using his notes, spoke from his heart. They all applauded when he finished, the professors looking between themselves before writing down their comments.
“I don’t know what you see in him,” Sasha comments from beside you, “Seriously, what is it?”
You look at her, tearing your eyes away from the stage momentarily, “Are- are you kidding?”
“The guys an arrogant, ignorant idiot,” She laughs, “I don’t know if you think you’re going to be able to fix him but it’s not going to work.”
“Wh-“
Before you can say anything more, she walks out onto the stage, clearing her throat before she begins her talk.
For the first part, she rambles on about the importance of vegan days in the canteen, reeling off statistics about meat consumption. And then it’s like something in her switches.
“And despite people being ignorant-“
You can’t quite see the way her eyes are directed but you know where she’s looking. Right at him.
“And people being unwilling to do anything to help anyone other than themselves-“
What was wrong with people?
Why did everyone think so little of him? Not just so little, but so badly. He wasn’t a horrible person, he never had been. And he wasn’t a failure, he’d never been that either. So why was everyone so convinced that he was?
Before you know it, her talk is over and Woodsy is gesturing for you to come up next. It was strange, like your instincts were taking over as you walk up onto the stage. There’s a mass of eyes looking up at you, all focused on you. Your friends smile at you that sort of reassuring look and Quinn waves when she sees you. But you can only focus on him. On the opposite side stood beside Ant, wearing a navy polo shirt, his hair in swooping curtains. He grins when he sees you, giving you a wink like he was telling you that you’d be fine.
You look over to the professors, all looking up at you expectantly from their table.
“Um-“ You clear your throat, “Thank you for… um, thank you for listening to the talks today and-“
You stop yourself, looking down at the notes in your hand before scrunching up the paper.
“Um, I did have a whole talk planned but… I don’t think I want to say that anymore.”
Spencer raises his brows at you. Who were you and what had you done with his overly prepared girlfriend?
“I think… I think this whole thing is a bit strange really,” You look down at a spot on the stage that seems to let you ignore everyone stood there in confusion, “Like… why us four? You chose three of us because we’ve got good grades, or we’re just known for being smart. And you chose Spencer because he’s good at sports but there’s so much more than that.”
Woodsy is looking at you like you’ve just set the school on fire in front of her. Just burned away all of her hopes for you.
“I’m sorry but I just think it’s stupid. People think so little of each other here,” You half laugh, “I don’t get it. We shouldn’t be talking about how to improve the school we should be talking about how to improve ourselves, how to improve how we treat other people.”
“Period!” Darren claps in the audience, echoed around the silence from everyone else.
“We think the worst of everyone here and we don’t need to. We don’t know anything about half of the people here and yet we just find a way to judge each other regardless,” You look over at Sasha and Missy, “I’ve been made to feel like shit just because of the relationship I was in. You two don’t deserve this scholarship. You don’t know anything about how to make the school a better place. Your sports teams, food in the canteen - it’s all superficial. You’re not good people.”
Both of them look at you completely dumbfounded, muttering something between themselves.
“Im not saying I deserve it, that’s not what I mean, I don’t deserve it either,” You shake your head, “God, I don’t really know what I’m saying. Um, Spencer, you deserve to prove people wrong.”
He looks up at you with his eyebrows raised, lips parted like he’s on the cusp of saying something.
“Everyone here, your Mum, yourself even,” You shrug, “You deserve to prove them wrong. You don’t think you can do it but you can, and you should.”
“Okay,” Spencer laughs, nodding at you as if finally believing what you were saying, his lips curling into a bright smile.
“Yeah, um, I’m going to stop this before I embarrass myself any more but,” You clear your head, turning back to the professors, “Thank you very much for the opportunity but I formally withdraw. And, if you want to make the right decision, pick him. He’s the only one good enough for your scholarship. Thank you.”
You hurry down the steps at the front of the stage, feeling your cheeks heat up intensely as the realisation of what you’d just done seems to hit you.
Oh god.
“Well, that’s definitely not what we rehearsed,” Spencer walks over to you, the smile still yet to leave his face.
“Um, no,” You laugh, “Not how I thought that would go.”
“Are you serious about throwing away the scholarship?” His face drops into a frown.
You look up at him, “Yes.”
“(Y/n) I cant ask you-“
You lean up onto your tiptoes and kiss him, griping the material of his shirt over his shoulders, “I didn’t give you the scholarship, I just told them you were the right choice.”
He laughs, “Spencer White, college scholarship, I like the sound of that.”
You giggle, “Me too.”
He wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you from the ground, spinning you around, “God, I love you.”
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His neglect wasn’t an accident—it was a choice, one you kept excusing as “busy” while swallowing your hurt and waiting for him to care enough to show up. The harsh truth? He simply didn't care enough to make the effort. Remember this, ladies: if he truly wanted to, he would. "Busy" is just another word for “asshole.” And “asshole” is another word for the man you’re married to.
word count: 22k
pairing: ceo!jake x fem!reader
featuring: enhypen, wonyoung from ive
genre: marriage of convenience, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers (kinda), second chance romance, angst
warnings: this story contains dynamics of a toxic relationship, angst and miscommunication at its peak, sensitive power dynamics, mild depictions of violence, themes of loneliness and low self-worth, implications of infidelity (no actual cheating), rich people drama, jake is kind of an asshole, sunghoon and wonyoung are married in this fic for plot purpose.
disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. If any context is similar to any other stories, it's either inspired (in which credit will be given) or just a coincidence. the characters' personalities, words, actions and thoughts do not represent them in real life. any resemblance to any real life events or person, present or past, are purely coincidental. i apologise in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. characters are aged up for plot purpose.
notes from nat: inspired by when the phone rings cause i love the colour red /hj. highly recommended to read with the playlist i curated in order! without further ado, enjoy!
They say if he’s not calling, it’s because you’re not on his mind. The first time you heard it, you shrugged it off. Of course, it wasn’t true. He was busy, wasn’t he? Busy with work, with meetings, with people who needed his attention more than you did in that moment. You told yourself it wasn't personal when the texts became shorter, when the phone calls grew less frequent, when the hours between hearing from him stretched into days.
But over time, the silence becomes heavier. The excuses, sharper. If he promised to be home by eight and didn’t show until eleven, it was work. If he forgot to call when he said he would, it was exhaustion.
You let these small disappointments settle into the cracks of your relationship, a habit you didn’t even notice forming until you could barely remember what it felt like to be a priority.
You tell yourself he’s under pressure, that he’s got a lot on his plate. But deep down, there’s a gnawing thought that won’t leave you alone: If he wanted to, he would. If he cared, he’d show up. Not just in the big moments, but in the small, forgettable ones—the ones that don’t require much but say everything. A text to check in, a call to ask how your day went. Something to remind you that you matter, that you still have a place in the life he leads without you.
But the truth settles in like a bitter cold creeping under your skin: he doesn’t think about you the way you think about him.
When he’s late, when he misses promises, when he leaves you waiting—it’s not a fluke. It’s a choice. And the more you excuse it, the more he learns that it’s okay to disappoint you, that your needs can always wait. He’s fine with it because he doesn’t have to feel the weight of your frustration, your sadness, your growing resentment.
"Busy" has become his favourite shield, his go-to excuse for everything. But “busy” is just another way of saying, "I don’t care enough." “Busy” is what he hides behind when he doesn’t want to confront the fact that he’s letting you down, over and over again.
And each time, you forgive him. Each time, you swallow your hurt, tell yourself it’s not a big deal, and convince yourself to wait a little longer for him to make the effort you’re aching for.
But deep down, you know. "Busy" is another word for “asshole.” And “asshole” is another word for the man you’re married to.
♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡
A marriage of convenience—that’s what you call this arrangement with Sim Jaeyun. It’s the only thing you can call it. Nothing about it feels real. No feelings. No chemistry. No intimacy. Just labels and the sweet, sweet promise of partnership, sweetened further by the monetary incentive that comes with it.
A deal dressed up as love.
At least, that’s how Jaeyun sees it. For you, it wasn’t always so simple.
You entered this marriage with no great love for him, true enough. Just a sense of duty and loyalty to your parents, to the company, to everything you’ve been raised to uphold as the eldest daughter of your family.
Jaeyun’s aloofness during your first meeting confirmed your suspicions that he felt the same. He was another child born with a silver spoon, another soul sacrificed to family ambition. Like you, he couldn’t complain about marrying someone he didn’t love because his parents had done it before him.
Putting aside the whole nature of your marriage, Jaeyun wasn’t a bad man.
In fact, he was decent. Polished. Accomplished. Sim Jaeyun had graduated summa cum laude from an Ivy League and, at twenty-eight, was already a legend in business circles.
They called him The Prodigy—a nickname that reverberated in the boardrooms of the elite. Women flocked to him, drawn by his sharp intellect, his undeniable charm, and, of course, his devastating good looks.
You’d rather bite your tongue than admit it, but he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Sim Jaeyun could make anyone’s heart race with just a glance. If you had to be forced into this sham of a marriage, at least you could say you were tied to someone who didn’t make you cringe every time you looked at him.
In the beginning, you played your roles so well that even you almost believed it.
To the press, to the public, you were the Dreamlike Couple. The perfect pair. You—poised and graceful, the epitome of elegance. Him—driven and magnetic, a man at the pinnacle of success. Together, you seemed untouchable, the kind of pairing that only existed in fairy tales.
It was a dream. For a time.
Marrying into the Sim family meant becoming the perfect housewife, a shadow to Jaeyun’s brilliance. Your days revolved around him—ensuring his comfort, supporting his exhausting nine-to-five (more like nine-to-midnight) grind.
And in return, Jaeyun played his part too. He brought you flowers, sat across from you at candlelit dinners, and whisked you away for picture-perfect dates on the rare weekends he wasn’t buried in work.
It wasn’t love, but it was enough. And slowly, against all your better instincts, you fell for him.
You fell for him—not all at once, but slowly, like the steady drip of a leaking faucet, each drop carving its way into your heart.
It was in the small, unexpected moments: the way his eyes softened when he asked if you were settling in well, the rare, fleeting smile that lit up his otherwise composed face, the quiet patience with which he listened when you nervously rambled about your day.
He was kind in ways that felt almost invisible, offering you a coat when you forgot yours, leaving your favourite coffee on the counter without a word, defending you in meetings with his parents when they criticised your choices. It wasn’t the grand gestures that pulled you in, but the subtleties—the way he seemed to remember the little things about you, like the books you loved or the songs that made you hum along absentmindedly.
You started to believe, naively perhaps, that behind the formalities and the distance, there was something real. Something that could grow.
And in those moments, you let your guard down, foolishly allowing hope to slip through the cracks of your carefully constructed defences.
But what started as a dream turned into a slow-brewing nightmare.
It took a year.
Just one year for the cracks in Jaeyun’s performance to show. Maybe he got tired of pretending. Maybe the strain of coming home to a wife he didn’t love became too much. Whatever it was, the distance between you started to grow.
The flowers stopped coming. The dinners grew silent, then ceased altogether. Dates became a thing of the past. The man who once made you feel like you were part of his world now barely acknowledged your existence.
You tried to rationalise it at first. He was busy, wasn’t he? Work was demanding. Meetings ran late. Deadlines piled up. Days would pass without a word from him.
But the excuses only held for so long. Because deep down, you knew. If Jaeyun wanted to, he would. If he cared, he’d find the time. He wouldn’t leave you sitting alone at the dinner table or waiting for a call that never came. He wouldn’t let the silence stretch until it swallowed what little connection you had left.
And yet, you forgave him. Over and over again. Each missed promise. Each broken gesture. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you could bear it. But with every disappointment you let slide, Jaeyun learned he could let you down without consequence.
Now, as you lie awake in the vast emptiness of your bed—yes, your bed, in your room, the one he rarely steps foot in anymore—you can’t help but wonder: Was it ever real? Did he ever try, even for a moment? Or had he always been this indifferent, just more skilled at masking it in the beginning?
Sim Jaeyun—the prodigy, the golden boy, the man you once dared to believe you could build a life with—has become little more than a stranger. A stranger who wears a ring that matches yours, yet feels worlds apart. And here you are, left holding the shattered pieces of a marriage that, in truth, was never whole to begin with.
You should’ve known, from the moment he slipped that ring onto your finger—a ring just a fraction too tight—that you were always going to feel suffocated. It was a perfect metaphor, really.
Now, every time you return home—whether it’s from mingling with the polished wives of his business partners, or from a solitary stroll in the park—you make a ritual of sliding the ring off, desperate to feel untethered, if only for a little while.
But no matter how many times you remove it, you can never truly escape him. Because the ring, with the way it pressed into your skin, leaves its imprint—a faint indentation that lingers long after it’s gone, marking you not as a partner but as a possession of the Sim family.
It feels like a cruel irony, that even without the ring, Sim Jaeyun’s grasp remains, his mark on you inerasable, etched into your skin and your soul like a tattoo.
The clock on the wall ticks steadily, mocking you with its rhythmic precision as the evening stretches into night. The once-flickering hope you’d clung to—that Jaeyun might remember this day—has long since withered, replaced by a familiar, hollow ache.
The dining table is set, the soft glow of candles casting shadows across the untouched plates. You’d debated with yourself earlier, wondering if it was worth the effort. But some stubborn part of you refused to let the day pass unnoticed.
After all, it’s your wedding anniversary. Even if Jaeyun doesn’t care, you do.
By the time the clock strikes eleven, the candles have burned low, the food long gone cold. You sit in the dim light, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, willing yourself not to cry.
When the front door finally opens, the faint sound of Jaeyun’s footsteps echoes through the house. He steps into the living room, his tie loosened and his hair slightly disheveled.
He looks tired—no, careless. He doesn’t even notice the table or the candles.
"You’re still awake?" he asks, his tone neutral, almost surprised.
You rise slowly, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "It’s our anniversary, Jaeyun."
He freezes, his brows knitting together as if trying to recall something important. The blank look on his face confirms what you already knew. He forgot.
"Shit," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’m sorry. Work was crazy today. I didn’t—"
"Don’t," you cut him off, your voice trembling. "Don’t tell me it was work. Don’t make another excuse."
He looks at you, clearly unprepared for the edge in your tone. "It’s not an excuse. I was genuinely busy."
"Busy," you repeat, the word dripping with bitterness. "You’re always busy, Jaeyun. Too busy to call, too busy to show up, too busy to even remember the day we got married. Do you even care at all?"
His expression hardens, and he steps closer, his tone defensive. "Of course I care. But I have responsibilities, and I can’t just drop everything—"
"Responsibilities?" you snap, your voice rising. "What about your responsibility to me? To this marriage? Or does that come last, after work and meetings and everything else that apparently matters more than I do?"
"You act like I don’t try," he snaps, his tone sharper now. "I work my ass off to give us a good life, to make sure you have everything you need."
"I don’t need your money, Jaeyun!" you shout, your anger finally spilling over. "I need you! I need a husband who shows up, who cares, who remembers things that matter. But instead, I get this—this stranger who walks through the door whenever he feels like it and expects me to be okay with it."
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re overreacting."
The words hit you like a slap. "Overreacting?" you echo, incredulous. "You think I’m overreacting because I’m upset that you forgot our anniversary? Because I’m tired of being the only one who gives a damn about this marriage?"
His eyes darken, and his frustration boils over. "That’s because it isn’t real!" he snaps, his words slicing through the air like a blade.
You freeze, the weight of his admission sinking into your chest.
"This marriage," he continues, his tone sharp and unrelenting, "was never about love. It was a deal. You knew that going in. So don’t stand there acting like I owe you something I never promised."
His words hit you like a sledgehammer to the face, leaving you momentarily breathless.
"I knew what it was," you say, your voice shaking but steadying as the anger flares in your chest. "But I didn’t sign up to be treated like I’m invisible. I didn’t agree to be an afterthought, Jaeyun. I’ve been trying—trying—to make this work. And what have you done? You’ve shut me out. You’ve made it clear, over and over, that I don’t matter."
Jaeyun exhales harshly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn’t mean it like that," he mutters.
"Yes, you did," you say, your voice soft but cold. "And that’s the worst part. You meant every word."
The silence between you is deafening. Jaeyun doesn’t apologise, doesn’t take back what he said. He just stands there, his expression unreadable, as if waiting for the conversation to end.
Finally, Jaeyun exhales, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I don’t know what you want me to say," he mutters.
"I don’t want you to say anything," you reply, your voice quieter now but no less firm. "I want you to do something. But I don’t think you’re capable of that, are you?"
He doesn’t answer, and the silence feels like confirmation.
You swallow the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. "I don’t know why I keep hoping for more from you," you whisper. "You’ve made it clear that I’ll never get it."
Without waiting for his response, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the living room. The weight in your chest grows heavier with each step, but you don’t look back. Once inside your room, you close the door softly behind you, the sound somehow softer than the silence that follows.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you let out a shaky breath and yank the ring off your finger as if it’s searing your skin. It’s almost instinctual, the need to rid yourself of the weight of it—the reminder of promises that were never real. You clutch the ring tightly in your palm for a moment before tossing it onto the nightstand with a dull clink.
You stare down at your hand, at the faint imprint left behind, the tattoo burned into your ring finger. No matter how many times you take the ring off, the mark remains, mocking you with its permanence.
A bitter laugh escapes your lips as tears prick your eyes, the ache in your chest impossible to ignore. You press your hands to your face, trying to smother the sob threatening to break free.
Back in the living room, the faint crackle of dying candles echoes in the stillness. Jaeyun doesn’t follow. He doesn’t knock on the door, doesn’t call your name. He stays where you left him, as he always does, letting the silence speak for him.
The last candle sputters out, plunging the house into darkness. You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest hollow but your mind racing.
The ring is now firmly back on your finger, snug against the faint tattoo that refuses to fade.
You sit outside the café you frequent so often that the barista doesn’t even ask for your order anymore, simply bringing your tea the way you like it. The faint clink of ceramic against the table pulls you from your thoughts, and you wrap your hands around the warm cup, as if it can somehow melt the cold ache inside you.
You stir your tea aimlessly, watching the steam spiral into the cool autumn air. Across from you, Wonyoung sits with her usual effortless grace, her beige trench coat draped neatly over her chair, her gold earrings catching the soft light.
"Alright," Wonyoung begins, placing her cup down with a decisive clink. "Spill. You’ve had that look on your face all morning. What’s going on?"
You sigh, leaning back in your chair as the weight of her gaze settles on you. Wonyoung isn’t just your best friend—she’s family now, married to your brother, Sunghoon. That makes her one of the few people who can truly see through you, no matter how much you try to hide.
"It’s nothing," you mutter, though your voice betrays you.
"That’s a terrible lie, and you know it," she says, narrowing her eyes. "Is it Jaeyun again?"
The mention of his name sends a pang through your chest, and you glance away, focusing on the street outside. "It’s always Jaeyun," you admit quietly. "I feel like… I’m stuck. He doesn’t care, Wonyoung. About me, about us, about anything that isn’t his work or his image. Yesterday was the three year anniversary of our marriage. He forgot, and I don’t even know why I’m still trying."
Her jaw tightens, her usually soft expression hardening in a way you rarely see. "That bastard," she mutters under her breath, leaning forward. "You know, I’ve been keeping my mouth shut for months because I didn’t want to overstep, but I’m this close to calling him out. He doesn’t deserve you. Not even a little."
You try to smile, but it’s weak, and the ache in your chest doesn’t ease. "It’s not that simple," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I signed up for this. I knew what it was. And he’s not awful, you know? He’s just… distant. Cold."
Wonyoung reaches across the table, her hand warm as it wraps around yours. Her grip is firm, grounding. "Listen to me," she says, her voice steady and fierce. "You deserve more than 'not awful.' You deserve someone who looks at you the way Sunghoon looks at me when I burn toast. Like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to them, no matter how messy or imperfect things get."
Her words bring a faint smile to your lips. You’ve always envied the dynamic between Wonyoung and Sunghoon—how they somehow balance each other perfectly. "You and Sunghoon," you say softly, "you make it look so easy."
Wonyoung chuckles, leaning back in her chair. "It wasn’t always like that. Do you remember how we met?"
You nod vaguely, but she doesn’t wait for an answer.
"It was at one of those insufferable charity galas," she says, rolling her eyes. "I was cornered by some overzealous CEO trying to pitch his latest venture, and Sunghoon swooped in out of nowhere, pretending we were old friends to rescue me."
A small laugh escapes you as you picture it. "Classic Sunghoon."
"Right?" Wonyoung grins. "I thought he was just being polite, but then he started showing up at every event I attended. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but your brother isn’t exactly subtle."
"He’s not," you agree with a smile.
"One day, he asked me to dinner—no pretense, no excuse. Just, ‘Wonyoung, let’s go out.’ And… I don’t know. He wasn’t like the other guys. He didn’t treat me like some prize to win or a business deal to close. He just wanted me."
The warmth in her voice tugs at something in your chest, a bittersweet ache. "And the rest is history," you say softly.
"Not quite." Wonyoung smirks. "Do you know he proposed to me on the ice rink? He can barely skate, but he insisted on doing it there because I mentioned once how much I loved skating as a kid. He spent more time falling than kneeling."
The image of your brother—stoic, composed Sunghoon—fumbling on the ice (LOL) makes you laugh, the sound spilling out unexpectedly.
"That’s Sunghoon for you," you say, shaking your head. "Always dramatic."
"But always sincere," Wonyoung says, her expression softening. "And that’s my point. Love isn’t about grand gestures or perfection. It’s about showing up, every day, even when it’s hard. Jaeyun doesn’t do that for you, and it breaks my heart to see you settling for so little when you deserve so much more.
Her analogy draws a laugh from you, even if it’s faint. "It’s not like I can just leave," you say softly. "You know how our families are. It would be a scandal. And, honestly, what would I even do? This marriage is all I have right now."
"No," Wonyoung says sharply, her voice cutting through your doubt. "You are so much more than this marriage. And if Jaeyun or your family can’t see that, then screw them."
Her conviction startles you, and you blink at her, taken aback. Wonyoung is always poised, diplomatic, rarely letting her emotions boil over. But now her eyes burn with a protectiveness that makes your throat tighten.
"You know what you need?" she says, her tone softening slightly. "A break. Come stay with Sunghoon and me for a while. I’ll make him cook for us—he owes me after shrinking my favourite sweater last week."
You chuckle despite yourself, the image of Sunghoon fumbling in the kitchen almost absurd. "Sunghoon? Cooking? Are you trying to punish me?"
Wonyoung grins, mischief flickering in her eyes. "Okay, fine, I’ll cook. But seriously, think about it. You don’t have to keep carrying this weight on your own. I’m here. Always."
Her words settle over you like a blanket, warm and reassuring. Wonyoung has always been your safe haven, her loyalty a reminder that not everyone in your life sees you as a means to an end.
"Thanks, Wony," you say softly, giving her hand a small squeeze.
"Anytime," she replies, her smile warm and genuine. Then, with a dramatic sigh, she leans back in her chair. "Now, let’s talk about something that doesn’t make me want to hunt Jaeyun down and throttle him. Did you see the dress Jennie wore to that gala last week? Gorgeous, but the heels—ugh, pure torture."
You laugh, grateful for the change in topic. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest feels lighter. Wonyoung chats animatedly, her presence a rare moment of warmth in the cold, suffocating reality of your life.
The house is quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. You sit curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, though the words blur together as your thoughts wander. The faint scent of candles lingers in the air, remnants of a night spent trying to make this house feel like a home.
When the front door opens, you don’t look up immediately. Jaeyun steps inside, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor. You can hear him shrug off his coat and place his bag on the console table, his movements measured. He doesn’t call out for you, and you wonder if he assumes you’re already asleep.
It isn’t until he steps into the living room that you glance up. His tie is loosened, and his shirt is slightly wrinkled—a rare imperfection in the man who always seems so put-together.
"Hey," he says softly, his voice hesitant.
You close your book, setting it aside as you nod. "Hi."
Jaeyun stands there for a moment, his hands in his pockets, as if unsure how to proceed. The silence stretches, the weight of your last argument hanging between you like an unwelcome guest.
"Can we talk?" he finally asks, his tone tentative.
You sit up straighter, your heart tightening. "What about?"
He exhales, running a hand through his hair as he sits down on the armchair across from you. "About us," he says, his gaze flickering to yours. "About everything."
The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, hope flutters in your chest. Maybe he’s ready to finally have the conversation you’ve been waiting for.
"Okay," you say quietly, folding your hands in your lap.
"I know I’ve been… distant," Jaeyun begins, his voice low. "And I know it’s been hard for you. For us. But I’m trying, I really am."
You nod, though the words feel empty, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. "What does ‘trying’ mean to you, Jaeyun?"
He hesitates, his brow furrowing. "It means I’m doing everything I can to balance everything. Work, this marriage—"
"Work," you cut in, your tone sharper than you intended. "It always comes back to work, doesn’t it?"
Jaeyun frowns, leaning forward slightly. "It’s not just about work. You know how demanding my job is. It’s not like I can just drop everything."
"I’m not asking you to drop everything," you say, your voice trembling with frustration. "I’m asking you to show up. To put me first, just once. To prove that this marriage means something to you beyond a contract."
"I do care," he insists, his voice rising slightly. "Why do you think I work so hard? I’m doing this for us—for you."
"No, Jaeyun," you reply, shaking your head. "You’re doing this for you. For your image, for your career. Don’t pretend this is about us when you can’t even remember the last time you asked me how I’m doing."
He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, his jaw tightening. "I’m trying," he says again, but it sounds more like a defense than a promise.
You lean back against the couch, the faint hope you felt earlier slipping through your fingers. "Trying isn’t enough," you say softly.
The words hang in the air, heavy and unrelenting. Jaeyun looks at you, his expression conflicted, as if he’s searching for something to say that will fix this. But instead, he leans back in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests.
"I have a big meeting tomorrow," he says finally, his tone almost apologetic. "But we can talk more after. Okay?"
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you look away. "Of course," you murmur. "After work."
Jaeyun flinches at the sarcasm in your voice but doesn’t argue. Instead, he stands, running a hand through his hair as he glances toward the hallway. "I’ll see you in the morning," he says quietly before walking away.
You don’t respond, your gaze fixed on the flickering candle on the coffee table. The room feels emptier than it did before he arrived, the silence colder, more suffocating.
The sound of his footsteps fades as he retreats to his office, leaving you alone with the oppressive quiet of the house. The weight of his absence feels heavier than the space he occupied just moments ago, pressing down on your chest.
You’re angry. Furious, even. The kind of anger that comes not from one isolated hurt but from countless small disappointments piling up into something unbearable. You feel wronged, neglected, like a ghost haunting a house that was never really yours to begin with.
To make matters worse, his words from yesterday night echo in your mind, sharp and cutting: "This marriage isn’t real."
And you’re reminded—again—of what you shouldn’t need reminding of. Jaeyun wasn’t wrong. This marriage, with its polished façade and perfect pretenses, was built on nothing but a deal. A contract. A partnership that never promised love, only convenience.
You shouldn’t be holding him to the vows he read off a script prepared by his secretary, each word meticulously chosen for the press release that followed your wedding. You shouldn’t be expecting more from him when you went into this deal without any expectations.
He’s right, as always. He always is.
You just hate to admit it.
You hate that you’ve let yourself forget the terms. Hate that you’ve let hope slip through the cracks and take root where it was never meant to grow. You hate that his indifference, while expected, still feels like rejection. And you hate that despite everything—despite the truth you’ve known from the beginning—you still feel like you’ve been betrayed.
Jaeyun didn’t lie to you. He didn’t promise anything he hasn’t delivered. You’re the one who strayed from the script, letting feelings creep in where they had no business being.
But even knowing that, the ache doesn’t fade. It settles deeper, rooting itself in your chest like a splinter you can’t quite remove.
It’s fake, you tell yourself again. But no matter how many times you repeat it, it doesn’t feel any less real to you.
The house feels colder now, the weight of Jaeyun’s indifference wrapping around you like a heavy fog. In the distance, you can faintly hear Jaeyun moving around in his office, his presence more distant than the sound of wind outside your window.
You sit on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, your thoughts circling back to the offer Wonyoung extended to you at the café.
It hits you like a revelation, though it shouldn’t. Some time away from Jaeyun, from this house, from the constant ache of trying and failing, might be exactly what you need. You exhale sharply, almost laughing at yourself. Geez, what took you so long to figure that out?
Before you can second-guess the idea, you pick up your phone and dial Wonyoung’s number. She answers on the first ring.
"Hey," she says brightly, as if she’s been waiting for your call.
"Is your offer still open?" you ask hesitantly, gripping the phone tighter.
"Of course it is," she replies without missing a beat. "When do you want me to pick you up?"
"Now?" you say, wincing slightly at how desperate you sound.
"Perfect," she chirps. "Give me ten minutes."
And she delivers, just as she always does. Not even ten minutes later, you hear the low purr of a car engine outside your gate. You peek out the window to see Wonyoung and her bright pink Porsche, the car gleaming under the streetlights. She’s leaning against the driver’s side door, sunglasses perched softly atop her nose, her effortless glamour making her look like she’s stepped out of a magazine shoot.
She waves when she spots you. "Come on!" she calls, her voice light but filled with purpose. "Grab your things and get in."
You hesitate for a moment, glancing back at the house. It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, oppressive. You don’t even know if Jaeyun has noticed you’re still sitting out here, much less that you’re about to leave.
Shaking off the thought, you grab an overnight bag you’d hastily packed and head out. As you reach the car, Wonyoung slides her sunglasses down slightly to look at you, her expression softening.
"You don’t have to explain anything right now," she says, opening the passenger door for you. "Just get in."
You slip into the car, the plush leather seats a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality you’ve been living. As soon as you’re buckled in, Wonyoung cranks up the music—a pop song you vaguely recognise—and pulls away from the gate with a flourish.
"You did the right thing," she says after a moment, glancing over at you. "Sometimes, you just need space to see things clearly."
You nod, though the knot in your chest hasn’t quite loosened. Still, as the familiar streets blur past and Wonyoung’s confident energy fills the car, you feel the faintest flicker of relief.
The soft hum of the kettle fills Wonyoung and Sunghoon’s kitchen, blending with the faint sound of rain tapping against the window. Wonyoung hums as she busies herself making tea, while you sit at the counter, wrapped in a blanket she insisted you take the moment you arrived. It’s warm here—not just from the heater, but from the unmistakable feeling of being cared for, a sensation you’ve been starved of for far too long.
"I swear, this house is the only place where I don’t feel like I’m suffocating," you admit softly, watching the steam curl up from your cup.
"You’re always welcome here," Wonyoung says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Even if Sunghoon pretends to be annoyed, you know he loves having you around."
The sound of footsteps descending the stairs interrupts her, and Sunghoon appears in the doorway, his hair damp from a shower. His sharp features are set in an expression of irritation that immediately reminds you of how he looked when you were both kids and he’d caught someone picking on you.
"You’re staying the weekend, right?" Sunghoon asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe.
You hesitate, fiddling with the edge of your blanket. "If it’s okay. I don’t want to impose—"
"Impose?" Sunghoon cuts you off, his voice firm. "You think you’re imposing by needing space from that asshole? Please. Stay as long as you want."
You wince slightly at his tone. Sunghoon rarely speaks about Jaeyun directly, but you know he’s never approved of how distant your marriage has become. And now, with you physically seeking refuge in his home, it seems his patience has run out.
"Sunghoon," Wonyoung warns gently, though she’s clearly on your side.
"No, babe, she needs to hear this," Sunghoon says, stepping closer. His dark eyes meet yours, softening just slightly. "You deserve so much better than how he treats you. I’ve kept quiet because I thought maybe he’d figure it out, but he hasn’t. And I don’t know what it’ll take for you to realise that you’re too good for him."
"Sunghoon," you mumble, feeling a lump rise in your throat.
"You’ve given him everything," he continues, his voice tight with anger, "and what has he done? He keeps you at arm’s length, barely puts in the effort, and makes you question your own worth. If he can’t see how incredible you are, then screw him."
"Sunghoon, that’s enough," Wonyoung says firmly, though her eyes flick to you with concern.
Sunghoon exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry," he mutters, his tone softening. "I just… I hate seeing you like this. You’re my sister. I’m supposed to protect you."
You blink rapidly, fighting back tears. "I know," you whisper. "And I appreciate it. But it’s complicated."
"It doesn’t have to be," he replies, his voice low.
Before you can respond, your phone buzzes on the counter. The screen lights up with a notification, and your stomach twists when you see the name: Jaeyun.
Wonyoung leans over, glancing at the screen. "Let me guess," she says dryly. "He’s just now noticing you’re not home."
You bite your lip, hesitating before picking up the phone. The message is short, as always.
Jaeyun: Where are you?
It’s not the words that make your chest tighten, but the tone you imagine as you read them—detached, almost transactional. There’s no concern, no affection. Just a question, as if you’re a misplaced item he needs to locate.
Sunghoon notices your reaction immediately. "What did he say?" he asks, his voice sharp again.
You hold up the phone, showing him the message. His expression darkens, and Wonyoung sighs, placing a hand on his arm.
"Don’t," she says softly.
"I’m not going to text him," Sunghoon snaps. "But if he thinks he can just demand to know where she is after everything—"
"Sunghoon, please," you interject, your voice shaky. "It’s fine. I’ll… I’ll handle it."
"No, it’s not fine," he says firmly. "But I get it. Just don’t let him guilt you into going back before you’re ready, okay?"
You nod, though your fingers tremble as you type out a response.
You: I’m staying at Sunghoon’s for the weekend.
It feels like a small act of defiance, but even hitting send makes your heart race. You place the phone face down on the counter, half-expecting an immediate reply.
"Good," Wonyoung says, her voice gentle. "Let him sit with that. He needs to know you’re not going to drop everything for him anymore."
"She’s right," Sunghoon adds. "And if he tries anything, you know I’ll handle it."
"If our parents finds out you’re always trying to start shit with Jaeyun, they’d be furious," you half-joke, swirling the tea in your cup. There’s a thin thread of humour in your voice, but it’s tied to a hard truth you both know too well. Your parents owe their entire business to the Sim family.
At the edge of bankruptcy, your marriage to Sim Jaeyun had been the final card they could play, a lifeline they clung to when everything else was crumbling. It worked, of course. The Sims, with their wealth and power, lifted your family’s business from ruin.
And in this, as in so many other things, you lose to Sim Jaeyun.
Be it in this sham of a marriage, in the tenuous stability of your family’s finances, you know the Sims don’t need you. Not really. Not as much as you need them.
Sunghoon leans back in his chair, his expression darkening. "You know I never agreed to marrying you off to that family, despite the consequences," he says, his voice low but resolute.
"I know," you reply softly, your gaze falling to your cup. "You got into a huge fight with Father over it. But you also know I’d do it anyway, even if you tried to stop me."
"Unfortunately, you’re as stubborn as a mule," he mutters, though his tone is fond. He exhales sharply, his brow furrowing. "But I hope you know you’re not tied down to this marriage anymore. Our family’s doing significantly better than it was three years ago, with or without the Sim backing us up. You can divorce him, if you want to."
The words hit you harder than you expect. Divorce. You’ve thought about it in the quiet corners of your mind, but hearing Sunghoon say it aloud feels different. It feels real.
"I’ll… sit on it," you say after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper.
Sunghoon studies you carefully, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. He knows you too well, knows that even though Jaeyun pretends you don’t exist most of the time, you’re still hanging onto that faint, stubborn hope that things might go back to how they were in the beginning. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself.
He doesn’t push. He simply nods, leaning forward to rest a hand on your shoulder. "Just remember, you’re not alone in this," he says firmly. "Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back."
You manage a small smile, the lump in your throat easing slightly. For the first time in a long while, you feel supported—truly supported.
As the rain continues to patter against the windows, Wonyoung pulls you into a conversation about dinner plans, her voice light and teasing as she asks Sunghoon to attempt making something edible for once. The tension in the room softens, and for a brief moment, you let yourself breathe.
Your phone buzzes faintly on the table, and your heart skips when you see Jaeyun’s name. The message isn’t anything special—nothing more than a curt reply to the one you sent earlier. It’s impersonal, distant, but you tell yourself it’s enough.
At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself.
The house is eerily quiet when you step inside, the echo of your keys hitting the console table filling the space. You kick off your shoes and glance around, expecting the usual stillness of a house that’s more empty than lived-in. Jaeyun should already be at work. It’s Monday morning, and his schedule is usually airtight at the start of the week.
You place your weekend bag by the stairs, your chest feeling lighter than it has in months. The time with Wonyoung and Sunghoon had been a breath of fresh air, a reprieve from the weight of this house and everything it represents.
But as you make your way toward the kitchen, something feels… off.
The air is heavy, and there’s no sign of the usual orderliness Jaeyun insists on. A mug sits abandoned on the counter, and his shoes are still by the door—things that wouldn’t be there if he’d left for the office.
Curious, you make your way upstairs, the faintest sense of unease prickling at your skin. The door to Jaeyun’s room is slightly ajar, and when you push it open, your breath catches.
He’s there, lying in bed, his usually impeccable appearance replaced by disheveled hair and a pale complexion. The blanket is pulled up to his chin, and the faint flush on his cheeks tells you everything you need to know.
He’s sick.
"Jaeyun?" you say softly, stepping into the room.
He stirs at the sound of your voice, his eyelids fluttering open. His usual sharp gaze is dulled, clouded by fever. "You’re back," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.
"I thought you’d be at work," you say, approaching the bed cautiously.
He lets out a weak chuckle that quickly dissolves into a cough. "I tried," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Made it as far as the shower before I gave up."
For a moment, you’re not sure what to do. This is new territory for both of you. But then something shifts inside you, something instinctive. You sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to press the back of your hand to his forehead.
"You’re burning up," you say, frowning. "Why didn’t you call someone?"
"I didn’t think it was that bad," he mutters, closing his eyes again.
You sigh, standing up and glancing around the room. "Stay here. I’ll be back."
His lips twitch, almost as if he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you leave, his usually stoic expression softening ever so slightly.
You return a few minutes later with a damp cloth, a glass of water, and the medicine you keep stocked in the kitchen. Jaeyun doesn’t protest as you sit beside him again, carefully pressing the cloth to his forehead.
"You don’t have to do this," he says, though his voice lacks conviction.
"I know," you reply simply.
He watches you for a moment, his gaze softer than you’re used to. "Thank you," he murmurs.
You nod, focusing on your task. There’s a quiet intimacy in the moment, the kind you haven’t felt in a long time.
As you help him sit up to take the medicine, his hand brushes against yours, and for a second, neither of you moves. It’s such a small, fleeting thing, but it feels monumental in the stillness of the room.
"You’ve done this before," he says suddenly, his voice tinged with curiosity.
You raise an eyebrow. "Taken care of someone who’s sick? Of course."
"No," he says, shaking his head slightly. "You. You’re… good at this. Gentle."
The comment catches you off guard, and you glance away, busying yourself with adjusting the blanket. "It’s nothing," you say quietly.
But Jaeyun doesn’t let it drop. "It’s not nothing," he says, his voice softer now. "I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that about you before."
The words hang between you, and for the first time in years, you see something in his expression that isn’t indifference or frustration. It’s gratitude.
"Rest," you say, deflecting the moment as you stand. "I’ll check on you later."
"Wait," he says, his voice stopping you in your tracks.
You turn, surprised. "What?"
"Will you… keep me company?" he asks, his tone hesitant. "Just for a little while."
Your heart clenches, and despite everything, you nod. "Okay."
You sit back down, leaning against the headboard as Jaeyun closes his eyes, his breathing evening out. For a while, you watch him, the tension in his face melting away as sleep takes over.
And in that quiet moment, with the soft hum of the rain outside and the warmth of his presence beside you, something shifts.
You open your eyes to find yourself tucked into the comforter of a bed you never thought you’d ever lie in again. The unfamiliar weight of the blankets is warm against your skin, but it takes a moment for you to orient yourself. The room is dim now, the last traces of sunlight gone, replaced by the faint glow of the bedside lamp.
The house is silent, and most notably, Jaeyun is no longer where you left him.
A faint pang of concern rises in your chest as you sit up, running a hand through your hair. He was feverish just hours ago, barely coherent. The fact that he’s no longer in bed is enough to pull you out of the comfort of his room.
You step into the hallway, glancing around. The living room is just as still and empty as it was when you first returned this morning, the silence almost oppressive.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spot it: the familiar glow spilling out from under the door to Jaeyun’s office.
You narrow your eyes. Don’t tell me…
You walk toward the door, heart sinking with every step. Pushing it open slightly, you find him perched over his laptop, his face illuminated by the screen. His fingers move swiftly across the keyboard, his focus unbroken. He didn’t even bother changing out of the clothes he slept in, the faint flush on his cheeks a reminder that he’s still sick.
"Jaeyun," you say, your voice sharper than you intended.
He startles slightly, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, he looks almost guilty, but the expression is fleeting. His face hardens, and he’s back to his usual self—detached, dismissive.
"What are you doing?" you demand, stepping into the room. "You should be resting."
"I’m fine," he replies curtly, his attention already shifting back to the screen.
"You’re not fine," you retort, your frustration bubbling over. "You had a fever this morning. You could barely sit up. And now you’re here, working as if nothing happened?"
He doesn’t answer, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" you ask, your tone softening despite your anger. "Why can’t you just take a break for once?"
"Because I don’t have the luxury of taking a break," he snaps, his voice sharp. He glances at you briefly, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. "Not everyone can afford to stop when things get difficult."
You flinch at his words, but you refuse to back down. "You’re not invincible, Jaeyun. You’re sick. Pushing yourself like this is only going to make it worse."
For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a heavy sigh, he closes his laptop and leans back in his chair. His face is pale, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced in the harsh light of the office.
"Why do you care?" he asks quietly, his voice devoid of its usual edge.
The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. Why do you care? After everything, after the distance and the arguments, why do you still feel this pull toward him?
"Because someone has to," you say finally, your voice steady. "And whether you like it or not, that someone is me."
He blinks, clearly not expecting your answer. His expression softens, the usual mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man he used to be—or maybe the man he still is, buried under all the walls he’s built.
"Come on," you say gently, nodding toward the door. "You need to lie down."
To your surprise, he doesn’t argue. He stands slowly, wincing slightly as he stretches. As he follows you out of the office, the silence between you feels less heavy, less hostile.
Back in his room, you watch as he climbs into bed, his movements sluggish. You adjust the blankets around him, your hand brushing against his briefly.
"You’re stubborn," you say softly, a faint attempt at teasing.
He lets out a weak chuckle, closing his eyes. "Takes one to know one."
You smile despite yourself, stepping back toward the door to give him space. But before you can leave, his voice stops you.
"Stay," he says quietly.
You freeze, your hand still on the doorframe. “So I can find you missing again when I wake up?” You joke, but you know it got lost on him when you spot the hint of guilt that colour his face.
"Just… stay," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes open, and for a fleeting moment, you see something vulnerable in his gaze.
You hesitate, your mind racing. Despite the years of being his wife, despite all the public pretenses and shared spaces, Jaeyun has never asked you to stay—not like this.
"Okay," you say finally, your voice soft. You move back toward the bed, sitting gingerly on the edge, unsure of what to expect.
Jaeyun shifts slightly, making space for you. "Lie down," he murmurs, his tone almost… tender.
You blink at him, stunned, but something in his expression—tired, open—compels you to obey. Slowly, you lie down beside him, careful to keep a polite distance. The room is quiet, the sound of your breaths the only thing breaking the stillness.
But then you feel it.
His arm snakes around your waist, tentative at first but firm as it settles. You inhale sharply, your body stiffening under his touch. Despite being his lawfully wedded wife, whose only purpose, it seems, is to sit there and look pretty, Jaeyun has never once touched you—not like this. Not in an intimate setting. Not at all.
"Jaeyun," you whisper, your voice catching.
"Don’t," he interrupts softly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "Just… let me. Just for a moment."
You don’t move, your heart racing as the weight of his arm presses against you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. His warmth seeps into you, a stark contrast to the cold distance you’ve grown so accustomed to.
For a long while, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it feels like something fragile and unspoken is passing between you, an unsteady bridge forming where there had only been a chasm before.
"Thank you," he murmurs finally, his breath warm against your neck.
"For what?" you ask, your voice barely audible.
"For being here," he replies simply.
You close your eyes, your hand hovering uncertainly before resting lightly on top of his. "Get some rest, Jaeyun," you say softly.
His hold on you tightens ever so slightly, and for the first time, you let yourself lean into his touch. As Jaeyun’s breathing evens out and the warmth of his presence lulls you into stillness, you feel something unexpected stir in your chest.
Not hope, not yet.
You tell yourself not to expect too much. This could just be a one-off thing, and it’ll go away just as quickly as it came, disappearing like so many other fragile glimpses of something more in your marriage.
Still, you stay still, letting the warmth of his touch seep into you, even as your mind tries to brace itself for the inevitable return to indifference. You tell yourself this means nothing—it’s just circumstance. He’s disoriented, caught off guard by his own vulnerability.
But then your gaze drifts downward, and you find yourself puzzled. His left hand covers your own, his touch firm yet gentle, and you’re struck by the sight of his wedding ring etched tightly around his finger. The gold band catches the faint glow of the moonlight outside, its presence so sure, so constant, as if it’s always belonged there.
Your eyes drop to your own hand. The ring you once wore is absent, likely discarded at some point when you returned home earlier, leaving only the faint tattoo etched into your skin.
His fingers shift slightly, and you feel the rough edge of his thumb trace over the spot where your ring used to sit. The action is subtle, almost unconscious, but it makes your heart race.
Does he realise what he’s doing? Is it just a fever-driven habit, a thoughtless gesture? Or is there something more to the way his touch lingers there, his warmth seeping into the empty space where a symbol of your bond once rested?
You glance at his face, but his eyes are closed, his breathing soft and steady. He looks peaceful, almost childlike, so far removed from the sharp, composed man you know him to be.
You let out a slow breath, your heart conflicted. This moment feels too fragile, too fleeting, to hold onto. And yet, the weight of his hand over yours, the brush of his thumb against your tattooed ring finger, lingers in a way that’s impossible to ignore.
Don’t expect too much, you remind yourself, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the pillow. But even as sleep pulls you under, the thought remains, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind.
The soft glow of morning light filters through the curtains, and you stir, slowly coming back to consciousness. Your first thought is that the bed feels strangely warm, a comforting weight anchoring you to the mattress.
Your second thought is that Jaeyun is surely gone by now.
But when you blink your eyes open, you’re surprised to find him still there, lying beside you. His head is propped up on one hand, his eyes watching you with an unusual softness. He’s awake, fully present, and for a moment, you think you might still be dreaming.
"You’re still here?" you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.
He smirks faintly, though there’s a gentleness in his expression that you can’t quite place. "Good morning to you too," he says, his tone light.
You push yourself up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows. "I thought you’d be gone by now. Off to work or something."
He chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. "I figured you’d think that," he says, his gaze steady on yours.
"Am I wrong?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, his lips twitch into the faintest smile, and he says, "I wanted to prove you wrong."
You blink, caught off guard by his words. "Prove me wrong about what?"
"That I’d be gone when you woke up," he says simply. "I know that’s what you expected. I wanted to stay… just this once."
His honesty takes the air from your lungs, and you find yourself staring at him, searching his face for some kind of ulterior motive. But all you see is sincerity, an openness that feels so unlike him it almost makes you uncomfortable.
"Why?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
He shrugs, his expression faltering slightly. "No reason.”
The words hang between you, fragile but significant. You don’t know how to respond, your heart warring with a mix of emotions—hope, skepticism, confusion.
"Jaeyun," you begin, your voice uncertain, "are you—"
"Don’t read too much into it," he interrupts gently, his gaze shifting away for a moment. "I just… wanted to be here. It’s the least I can do in return for taking care of me last night. That’s all."
You nod slowly, unsure of what to say. It feels like there’s more he isn’t saying, but for now, you let it be.
"Well," you say, clearing your throat to break the tension, "you succeeded. I didn’t think you’d still be here, but you are."
He smiles faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to make your chest tighten. "Good," he says, his tone soft.
The two of you lapse into silence, the morning light growing brighter as it fills the room. Strangely, the quiet between you isn’t heavy or suffocating—it’s almost comfortable.
And that scares you.
The late morning sun filters through the curtains, casting soft streaks of light across the living room. You’re perched on the couch, a mug of tea warming your hands, and for once, the house doesn’t feel so empty. It’s quiet, but not the cold, distant kind of quiet you’ve grown used to. This quiet feels… peaceful.
Jaeyun is in the kitchen, rummaging through drawers in search of something. The sound of clinking silverware drifts into the living room, and you can’t help but smile faintly at his muffled muttering.
"You’ve been in there for ten minutes," you call out. "What are you looking for?"
"Nothing," he replies, his tone nonchalant, though it’s clear he’s lying.
A moment later, he emerges with a slightly triumphant expression, holding up a mismatched pair of chopsticks. "Found them."
You raise an eyebrow. "Were we missing chopsticks?"
He shrugs, sitting down beside you on the couch. "Apparently. But not anymore."
It’s such a mundane moment, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and yet it feels monumental. Jaeyun—your distant, often aloof husband—sitting beside you, chopsticks in hand as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
"So," you say, tilting your head to look at him, "you’re really not going to work today?"
He leans back against the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Called in sick," he says simply.
Your eyes widen slightly. "You did what?"
He glances at you, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You heard me. Just one day. I figured the world wouldn’t end if I wasn’t at my desk for twenty-four hours."
The admission surprises you more than you’d like to admit. "You? Calling in sick? Are you sure you’re not actually still feverish?"
He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "I just… thought it might be nice to stay home. Spend the day here."
The words are casual, but they hit you with unexpected weight. He doesn’t say it outright, but you can tell he means with you.
The day unfolds in a series of small, quiet moments.
You make lunch together—or rather, you try to make lunch while Jaeyun critiques your cooking with a faint smirk that earns him a flick of flour to the face. He retaliates by stealing a bite of your eggs before it even makes it to your plate.
Later, you find yourselves sitting on the floor, a forgotten deck of cards between you. The game dissolves into laughter when Jaeyun’s competitive streak makes him accuse you of cheating, though you both know he’s just annoyed that you’re winning.
At some point, he drags you to the couch, insisting you watch an old movie he loves. The two of you sit side by side, shoulders brushing, as the black-and-white film flickers across the screen.
The golden hues of sunset stream through the kitchen windows as you both sit at the table, sipping tea after finishing the leftovers from lunch. The warmth of the day still lingers in the air, wrapping around the two of you like a cocoon.
As you lean back in your chair, savoring the moment, Jaeyun suddenly tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your hand.
"Where’s your ring?" he asks, his tone casual, but his eyes sharp.
Your heart skips a beat. The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you freeze.
"My ring?" you repeat, stalling for time as your mind races.
"Yeah," he says, his gaze still fixed on your bare finger. "You’re always wearing it. Did you take it off for something?"
"I… I must’ve left it in the bathroom," you blurt out, forcing a smile you hope looks convincing. "Probably when I was washing my hands earlier."
He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "In the bathroom?"
"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding as you avoid his gaze. "I’ll grab it later."
Jaeyun doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like. The air feels heavier, and you’re painfully aware of how obvious your lie probably sounds.
Finally, he leans back in his chair, shrugging slightly. "Don’t forget it," he says, his tone light but his words carrying an undertone you can’t quite place.
You nod, forcing yourself to relax. "Of course."
But as the conversation shifts and the moment passes, the weight of his question lingers. You glance down at your hand, at the faint tattoo where your ring should be, and a wave of guilt prickles at the edges of your thoughts.
It’s not like you haven’t taken it off before. In fact, you do it almost every day when you’re at home. It’s become something of a ritual—the first thing you do after stepping through the door. You slip the ring off your finger and leave it somewhere out of sight, free from its weight, if only for a little while.
The cool metal feels foreign against your skin most days, its presence a constant reminder of what your life is—or isn’t. You never think twice about leaving it behind when you’re within these walls. Here, there’s no one to see, no one to judge, no cameras waiting to catch a fleeting moment that could spiral into something scandalous.
When you’re not out and about, it feels pointless to keep it on. The ring, for all its shine, doesn’t mean much in the confines of this house. It’s more for show, a symbol of an agreement carefully constructed to protect your family’s image and his.
Not a promise. Never that.
At least, that’s what you’ve told yourself. The habit of slipping it off has become so second nature, so tied to the quiet rebellion you allow yourself in these small, insignificant moments.
And yet, when Jaeyun notices its absence today, it feels like the weight of it hasn’t truly left you. As if even without wearing it, the ring leaves its mark in more ways than one.
He’s never noticed before—or if he has, he’s never said anything. So why now? Why today, of all days, when things between you feel… different?
Unlike you, he never seems to take it off. It’s always there, snug around his finger, as if it belongs. The sight of it used to annoy you—how he could wear it so easily, without it seeming to weigh him down.
Now, you’re not sure how it makes you feel.
You run your thumb over the faint tattoo on your ring finger, and force yourself to look away. It’s just one day, you remind yourself again.
Just one day where things feel lighter, less complicated.
But you can’t help wondering if Jaeyun’s question meant more than he let on. And you can’t shake the feeling that this small, seemingly insignificant detail might mean more than either of you are ready to admit.
And like every other time you think things might start changing for the better between you and Jaeyun, you’re reminded once again why you don’t hope.
Jaeyun goes back to his old ways, the distance between you returning like a shadow that never truly left. It feels like déjà vu.
You can’t help but wonder how one person can do such a thing—be kind and leave you helplessly yearning for one day, only to completely pretend you don’t exist the next. It’s as if he’s perfected the art of making you feel like you matter, just enough to keep you tethered, before yanking it all away again.
He’s gone before you wake up, and by the time he comes home, it’s well past dinner, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the crisp air he brings in from the outside world. There’s no more lingering conversations, no more stolen glances or hesitant touches. It’s as though the day you spent together was a dream you woke from too soon.
You try to tell yourself it doesn’t hurt, but it does. Every time he brushes past you without a word, every time his focus remains glued to his phone or laptop instead of on the life you’re supposed to be sharing, it stings.
One evening, as he’s seated at the dining table with his laptop, his face illuminated by the cold, blue glow of the screen, you bring it up.
"There’s a charity gala being held by the Park family this weekend," you say, your tone light, careful. "We’re expected to attend together."
He doesn’t look up, his fingers tapping steadily at the keyboard. "Hmm," he mutters absently, his tone distant.
You suppress a sigh, leaning against the counter. "It’s important, Jaeyun. The Parks have always been close to your family, and you know how much these events matter to them—and to us."
"I’ll see if I can make it," he replies, his eyes never leaving the screen.
"See if you can make it?" you repeat, a note of irritation slipping into your voice. "It’s not a suggestion, Jaeyun. We’re supposed to go together."
He pauses for a fraction of a second before resuming his typing. "I’ll try," he says, his tone flat.
You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding even though he isn’t looking. "Alright," you murmur, retreating to the safety of your room.
But deep down, you already know how it will play out. He won’t come. You’ll stand alone at the gala, wearing a practiced smile while the whispers swirl around you. And when you return home, he’ll have some excuse waiting, polished and hollow, leaving you wondering why you even bother to hope.
And yet, against your better judgment, you do. You hope.
You’d spent hours convincing yourself that he would come, that this time would be different. But as the car pulled up to the venue without him, the weight of the truth settled back onto your shoulders. Of course, he hadn’t come. You knew it was too good to be true.
The Park family’s charity gala is as dazzling as you expected. The grand ballroom is a sea of glittering gowns, tailored suits, and sparkling champagne glasses. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across the room, illuminating faces that belong to the city’s most influential.
As you make your way through the crowd, trying not to let your disappointment show, you almost immediately feel the weight of eyes on you.
People glance at the space beside you—empty, conspicuously so. The absence of Jaeyun is louder than any announcement, a glaring reminder of how alone you are in this marriage.
"She’s here alone again," someone whispers as you pass.
“Where’s Jaeyun?" one woman asks lightly, her tone laced with curiosity.
You hold your head high, your practiced smile in place, though the sting of their words burns beneath your skin. You knew this would happen. You prepared yourself for it. And still, it doesn’t make it any easier.
An hour passes, and you’ve made your way through polite conversations and obligatory greetings. You exchange small talk with acquaintances and pose for photographs, every move calculated to maintain the image of perfection.
And before you know it, you find yourself at the bar, nursing a glass of champagne as the evening drags on. The music is lively, couples twirling across the dance floor, and yet you can’t shake the gnawing feeling of being out of place.
"Mrs. Sim," a warm voice calls out. It’s smooth, familiar, and you turn to see Justin Park standing beside you. The eldest son of the Park family is the picture of charm, his tailored suit impeccable, his smile easy.
"Justin," you greet him with a smile, grateful for the familiarity. "It’s been a while."
"It has," he agrees, taking your hand briefly in his. "I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us."
You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Never. The Parks throw the best events, after all."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," he teases, his grin widening.
The conversation flows effortlessly, his presence offering a welcome reprieve from the otherwise stifling evening. Justin has always had a way of making people feel at ease, and for the first time tonight, you feel a small sense of relief.
But you’re not oblivious to the glances. You can feel the eyes of the room on you, hear the faint murmurs growing louder as the two of you continue talking. Justin doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he doesn’t care.
He takes the seat beside you, signaling for a drink. "No Jaeyun tonight?"
You let out a soft laugh, though there’s no real humour in it. "Work," you say, the excuse slipping off your tongue before you can stop it.
Justin raises an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "Work seems to take up a lot of his time."
You glance at him, unsure how to respond. There’s a knowing look in his eyes, but he doesn’t press further. Instead, he shifts the conversation to lighter topics, asking about your family, your thoughts on the gala, your latest endeavours.
But as the conversation continues, you become more and more aware of the glances being cast your way. The whispers. The pointed stares.
It doesn’t take long to piece together what’s happening.
The perfect wife of Sim Jaeyun, left alone at a gala, seen laughing and chatting with Justin Park—eldest son of the host family, no less. The headline practically writes itself.
You excuse yourself politely, leaving Justin with a gracious smile as you slip away to the powder room. Your heart pounds as you grip the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror. The whispers have always followed you, but this feels different.
When you return to the ballroom, the tension is palpable. More eyes follow you now, the buzz of speculation almost tangible. You press on, keeping your head high, your composure intact.
But inside, something breaks.
You’d held onto hope, despite everything, that Jaeyun might show up, that he might stand beside you for once, silencing the whispers with his presence. Instead, his absence speaks louder than words ever could.
The night drags on, and by the time you leave, the damage is done.
When you arrive home, the house is dark, just as you expected. Jaeyun’s car is in the driveway, but the silence inside confirms what you already know—he’s here, but he’s not really here.
You find him in his office, his laptop open, his face bathed in the cold glow of the screen.
"You didn’t come," you say, your voice flat as you stand in the doorway.
He glances up briefly, his expression unreadable. "I told you I was busy."
"Busy," you repeat, bitterness creeping into your tone. "You couldn’t even spare one evening? You didn’t even try, did you?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond.
"Do you have any idea what tonight was like for me?" you ask, your voice rising. "Standing there alone while people whispered and stared? While they speculated about my marriage—and about Justin Park?"
At the mention of Justin’s name, Jaeyun’s gaze sharpens, a flicker of something—anger, perhaps—crossing his face.
"Justin?" he asks, his tone clipped.
"Yes, Justin," you snap. "He was kind enough to talk to me while my husband couldn’t even bother to show up."
Jaeyun’s eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he might actually say something. But then he leans back in his chair, his expression closing off once more. "I’m sure people will find something else to talk about tomorrow."
The dismissal in his tone is the final blow. You shake your head, the weight of the evening crashing down on you.
"Of course," you say softly, your voice trembling. "Why would you care?"
You turn and walk away, the sound of his keyboard clicking resuming as the door closes behind you. In the quiet of your room, you slip off your gown, your hands trembling as you let it pool around your feet.
You knew it was too good to be true. Jaeyun’s warmth, his attention—it was fleeting, a momentary lapse in the distance that defines your marriage. And now, you’re left with the echoes of what might have been, wondering if it was ever real to begin with.
The days following the gala, marked by a heavy, stifling silence that seems to wrap itself around the house. You try to carry on as if nothing has changed, though it’s impossible to ignore the fact that Jaeyun is now home every day.
It’s disorienting. He’s always been someone who thrives on his demanding schedule, constantly in and out, using work as an excuse to avoid the cracks in your marriage.
But now, he’s here—present in a way that feels more like a shadow than a comfort.
You desperately try to avoid him, sticking to your routines with an almost obsessive precision. You spend longer in the kitchen, longer in the guest room you’ve claimed as your own, and shorter stretches of time in shared spaces like the living room. Yet, no matter how hard you try, it’s like his presence lingers everywhere.
In the mornings, you find him in the kitchen, sipping coffee at the island as if he’s always been there. The air is thick with unspoken words as you pour yourself tea, your movements stiff and deliberate. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge you beyond a glance, but the weight of his silence is deafening.
At night, it’s worse. You hear him moving about the house, the faint sound of his footsteps stopping and starting as though he’s unsure where to go. It’s as if he’s waiting for you to confront him, to say something—anything—but you don’t. You can’t.
One evening, as you retreat to your room, you notice the door to his office is wide open, the lights dim. You hesitate for a moment, glancing inside, only to find him sitting at his desk, staring blankly at his laptop.
He doesn’t look up, but his voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. "You’re avoiding me."
You freeze, your fingers tightening on the edge of the doorframe. "I’m not avoiding you," you lie, your voice steadier than you feel.
He lets out a dry laugh, though there’s no humour in it. "You’re not very good at lying."
You don’t respond, your pulse quickening as the weight of his gaze finally lifts from the screen and settles on you. His eyes are darker than usual, a storm brewing behind them, but you refuse to let it intimidate you.
"Why are you here all the time now?" you ask abruptly, the question tumbling out before you can stop it. "Are you not needed at the office?"
He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I realised I’ve been away too much, I’ve decided to work from home for the time being."
You scoff, shaking your head. "You’ve always been away too much. Why does it matter now?"
For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His gaze lingers on you, searching, as if trying to decide how much to say. "Because you were right," he says finally, his voice quieter but firm. "About a lot of things."
The confession catches you off guard, your carefully constructed walls trembling under the weight of his words.
"And what am I supposed to do with that?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t know. But I’m trying."
You laugh bitterly, stepping back into the hallway. "Trying doesn’t undo what’s already been done, Jaeyun."
"I know," he says softly, almost to himself.
You leave before he can say anything more, retreating to your room and shutting the door behind you. The house falls silent again, but it feels more suffocating than ever.
The knock at the door is sharp, insistent, cutting through the quiet of the night like a blade. You hesitate, your book slipping from your hands onto the couch.
It’s late—too late for anyone to show up unannounced. The second knock is harder, more aggressive, and the urgency in it sends a chill down your spine.
Jaeyun’s office light is still on, but the house is otherwise silent. You glance down the hallway, half-expecting him to emerge and handle it, but when he doesn’t, you steel yourself and head for the door.
Justin Park stands on your doorstep, his usually composed face marred by a split lip and a bruise darkening his cheek. His suit jacket is gone, his shirt wrinkled and bloodied, and his eyes burn with a fury you’ve never seen before.
You swing the door open, your voice trembling. "Justin? What happened to you?"
He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, his movements stiff and pained. "Where’s your husband?" he snaps, his voice low and dangerous.
"What—what are you talking about?" you stammer, closing the door behind him as he staggers into the living room.
"Get Jaeyun on a leash," he growls, turning to face you. His eyes are blazing, his anger palpable. "Because if this is how he handles things, you’re going to have bigger problems than rumors about us."
You stare at him, your mind struggling to catch up. "Jaeyun? What does he have to do with this?"
Justin lets out a harsh laugh, though there’s no humor in it. He presses a hand to his side, wincing as he moves. "You really don’t know, do you?"
"Your husband sent his men after me," he growls, his voice dripping with anger. "Three of them cornered me at the bar tonight. Told me I needed to stay away from you. When I didn’t back down, they made sure I 'got the message.'"
The blood drains from your face as you take in his bruised cheek, the torn fabric of his shirt. "Jaeyun… he wouldn’t—"
"Wouldn’t he?" Justin snaps, his eyes blazing. "You think he didn’t know exactly what he was doing? He made it very clear who was behind it."
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. This couldn’t be true, could it? Jaeyun, who has spent years pretending you don’t exist, who didn’t even bother to show up at the gala, suddenly cared enough to orchestrate this?
You swallow hard, your hands trembling as you step closer. "Justin, I’m so sorry. I didn’t—"
"Don’t apologise for him," Justin interrupts sharply, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at you. "This isn’t your fault. But you need to talk to him. Make him understand that this isn’t how you fix things."
You nod slowly, your mind spinning. "Let me get you some ice," you say, moving toward the kitchen.
"Don’t bother," Justin says, shaking his head. "I just came to let you know what happened. Whatever you do with this information is up to you."
"Justin—"
"Take care of yourself," he says, cutting you off as he heads toward the door. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, and glances back at you. "You deserve better than this."
The sound of the door shutting behind Justin reverberates through the house like a final gavel in a court sentencing. You stand frozen, trying to collect yourself, when you hear it—the unmistakable sound of Jaeyun’s footsteps behind you.
"Who was that?" Jaeyun’s voice is calm, almost indifferent, but there’s a sharpness beneath it that makes your skin crawl.
You turn slowly to face him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You already know who it was."
His gaze darkens, his expression unreadable. "And why was he here?"
You scoff, crossing your arms. "Why do you think? He came to show me the bruises your men left on him. Did you send them, Jaeyun?"
Jaeyun doesn’t flinch. Instead, he leans against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "He needed to understand his place," he says flatly.
"His place?" you echo, your voice rising. "You sent your men to beat him up over a conversation? What’s wrong with you?"
Jaeyun straightens, his eyes flashing. "He was disrespecting our marriage."
You stare at him, stunned for a moment before letting out a bitter laugh. "Disrespecting our marriage? What marriage, Jaeyun? The one you’ve ignored for years? The one you couldn’t even show up to defend at the gala?"
He steps closer, his voice sharp. "Don’t twist this. You were out there talking to him, laughing with him, while people whispered about you. About us."
"Why does it matter to you anyway?" you snap, your anger spilling over. "You don’t see this arrangement as anything more than a convenience. Why do you care if I was talking to Justin or not?"
"Because it reflects on me," he fires back, his voice hard. "On my family. On my name."
You flinch at the bluntness of his words, your chest tightening. "So that’s all this is to you? Image? Reputation?"
He clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You don’t understand."
"No," you shoot back, your voice breaking slightly. "I don’t understand. Because you don’t let me. You don’t let me in, Jaeyun. And then you act like you have the right to control me when I’m just trying to survive this sham of a marriage."
His expression falters for a moment, something flickering in his eyes—guilt, regret, anger—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
"You don’t know Justin Park," he says, his tone cold. "Not like I do. It’s best you stay away from him."
"And you think I know you?" you ask, your voice trembling with fury. "Maybe it’s you I should be staying away from."
The words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, he’s silent. The tension between you is suffocating, the weight of everything left unsaid crushing down on both of you.
Finally, he exhales, his voice quieter but no less sharp. "This isn’t about me."
"It’s always about you, Jaeyun," you reply, shaking your head. "Your name. Your image. Your pride. But what about me? What about what I want? Or do I not even factor into this equation anymore?"
His silence is answer enough.
You turn on your heel, your chest tight as you storm down the hallway, leaving him standing there in the suffocating silence. Your footsteps echo through the house, but his don’t follow.
In your room, you sit on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling as you press them against your temples. Justin’s words replay in your mind: You deserve better than this.
And for a moment, you wonder if he’s right.
The thought comes to you slowly, quietly, like the first ripples of a tide that eventually swallows the shore. Divorce. You roll the word around in your mind, tasting its finality, its promise of freedom, and the bitter pang of everything it would mean.
For so long, it felt like an impossible idea, a step too drastic to even consider. You told yourself it wasn’t an option—not with the intertwined fates of your family and Jaeyun’s. Not with the whispers that would follow you for years, the headlines that would smear your name.
But now, as you sit alone in the dim light of your room, the faint murmur of Jaeyun’s movements down the hall a constant reminder of how broken things are, it doesn’t feel impossible anymore.
It feels inevitable.
Your mind drifts back to the last few months, to the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. For every fleeting moment of warmth from Jaeyun, there’s a cold wall waiting to slam back down, leaving you questioning your worth, your sanity.
You deserve better than this.
Do you?
The idea both frightens and exhilarates you. To walk away, to sever the ties that have bound you for so long, feels like a leap into the unknown. What would your life look like without Jaeyun? Without the expectations and pretenses that have consumed you?
Your thoughts turn to your family. You know the sacrifices they made, the desperation that led to this marriage in the first place. For so long, you told yourself you couldn’t leave because they needed you to stay. But now, with their business stable and the weight of the Sim family’s influence less critical than it once was, you wonder if you’ve been clinging to that excuse simply because it’s easier than facing the truth.
The truth is, you’ve been afraid. Afraid of the fallout, of the shame, of the unknown. Afraid that walking away would mean admitting failure—not just to your family or society, but to yourself.
But as you sit there, the faint hum of the world outside filtering through the window, you realise something else: staying is its own kind of failure.
You press your hands to your face, breathing deeply as you let the thought settle over you. Divorce. It feels heavy, like a word too big for your chest to hold, but also strangely freeing.
You don’t make the decision tonight. But for the first time, you allow yourself to think about it, to imagine a life where the weight of this marriage is lifted, where you can breathe freely again.
But while the thought of it doesn’t feel impossible, it doesn’t feel like hope either.
Not the kind of hope you would feel when the coldness between you and Jaeyun would melt for a day or two, his rare gestures of warmth thawing the ice between you before it inevitably froze over again. Not the kind of hope you would feel when you allowed yourself to dream of a happy marriage with him, only to wake up to the nightmare of its absence.
This doesn’t feel like hope.
It feels like resignation. A quiet acceptance of the reality you’ve been avoiding for years. But even as the word divorce lingers in your mind, whispering promises of freedom and relief, there’s something else that you can’t seem to ignore.
Even after everything—after the indifference, the distance, the way he treats you like an afterthought—you can’t deny the feeling that has rooted itself so stubbornly in your chest.
You love him.
It feels absurd, almost laughable, to admit it even to yourself. How could you love someone who has hurt you so thoroughly, someone who has made you feel invisible in a marriage that he vowed to protect? And yet, the truth is undeniable.
You love him.
You love him in the quiet moments when his mask slips, and he shows glimpses of the man you thought he could be. You love him in the memories of the rare times he made you feel seen, however fleeting they were. You even love him in the ache of longing, in the endless hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll come back to you in the way you’ve always wanted him to.
It’s maddening. It’s painful. And it’s real.
The thought makes your chest tighten, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. How can you even think of divorce when your heart refuses to let go? When a part of you still clings to the idea that something salvageable remains between you?
You press your fingers to your temple, willing the thoughts to quiet, but they don’t. Instead, they linger, heavy and unrelenting, as the faint sounds of Jaeyun moving about the house reach your ears.
You love him. Despite everything. And maybe that’s the worst part of all.
You decide that you’ll never be able to come to a conclusion as long as you’re stuck in this house, surrounded by everything that reminds you of him. The walls feel like they’re closing in, every corner holding fragments of a life you’re not sure you can continue living. His cologne lingering in the hallways, the faint indent of his weight on the sofa, the silent hum of his presence—all of it suffocates you.
So, you do the only thing you can think of. You pack your bags.
You don’t give yourself time to overthink it. A small overnight bag is enough; you don’t even care if you’ve forgotten something. The urgency to leave, to breathe, to escape the weight of him, pushes you forward.
You don’t bother texting or calling Wonyoung or Sunghoon first. She’s your best friend and he’s your brother. You trust that they’ll understand. Frankly, you don’t care if you’re interrupting something. You just want out of this house.
When you step out into the cool evening air, the weight on your chest lifts ever so slightly. You pull your coat tighter around you and get into the car, gripping the steering wheel as if it’s the only thing anchoring you.
The drive to Wonyoung’s is a blur, the city lights flashing past your windows like fleeting memories. You don’t know what you’re going to say when you arrive, but you trust that she’ll take one look at you and know. She always does.
Your grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles white as you try to focus on the road and not the storm brewing inside your mind. But as you take a glance at your rear-view mirror, a flicker of unease slithers into your chest.
The car behind you has been following you for far too long.
At first, you brush it off as coincidence. It’s a city, after all, and traffic can be unpredictable. But the longer you drive, the more you notice the pattern. Every turn you make, every lane change—it mirrors your moves with eerie precision.
Your chest tightens, and your breath comes a little faster. You test the waters, making an abrupt turn onto a side street. The car behind you follows.
Panic starts to creep in, and your mind races with possibilities. Who would follow you? And why?
Your foot presses harder on the accelerator, your heart pounding as the car behind you matches your speed. You weave through the streets, your mind screaming for clarity, for an explanation. But none comes. The only thing that matters is the need to escape.
As you merge onto a less busy road, the car behind you inches closer, its headlights glaring in your rear-view mirror like eyes boring into your soul. You push the accelerator to the floor, the speedometer climbing as your car barrels down the road.
The high-speed chase feels endless, your pulse a deafening roar in your ears. You barely register the turns you’re making, the streets blurring together as you fight to stay ahead. But in your desperation, you take a corner too sharply.
The car swerves, tires screeching against the asphalt. The world tilts as your vehicle careens off the road, smashing into a lamppost with a bone-jarring impact.
Everything goes quiet.
Your head throbs, the airbag deflating in front of you. Smoke wafts from the crumpled hood, and your vision swims as you try to make sense of what’s happening. Before you can gather your thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps snaps you to attention.
You fumble with your seatbelt, panic surging as the car door wrenches open. A figure looms over you, silhouetted against the harsh glow of the headlights.
"Let’s go," a voice growls, low and urgent.
Before you can react, strong hands grip your arm, dragging you from the wreckage. You kick and thrash, your protests muffled by the haze of adrenaline and the ache radiating through your body.
"Stop fighting," the voice snaps, and you freeze, recognition dawning.
"Justin?" you rasp, your voice hoarse and disbelieving.
He doesn’t answer, his grip on your arm tightening as he pulls you toward a waiting car parked just behind yours.
"What are you doing?" you demand, trying to resist despite the pounding in your head.
"Saving you," he bites out, his tone cold and unrelenting. "From yourself and from him."
The words send a chill down your spine, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. "What are you talking about? Let me go!"
But Justin doesn’t falter. He opens the car door and all but shoves you inside before sliding into the driver’s seat and locking the doors.
"You don’t get it, do you?" he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. "You’re a pawn in his game, and he’s not going to let you go. Not unless someone forces his hand."
The engine roars to life, and the car speeds off, leaving the wreckage—and your sense of safety—far behind.
"Justin, what are you doing?" you whisper, your voice trembling as the weight of the situation presses down on you.
He glances at you briefly, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Making sure you don’t go back to him."
Panic bubbles up in your chest, and you realise this night is far from over.
The warehouse is cold, damp, and utterly silent except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Your wrists ache from where Justin had bound them to the chair, though he’d been careful not to make it too tight—almost as if he wanted to justify this madness to himself.
He paces in front of you, his movements restless, his face a storm of emotions. His disheveled appearance is a far cry from the polished, composed man you’d spoken to at the gala. Now, he looks unhinged, his sharp gaze flickering between intensity and something softer that makes your stomach churn.
"Why are you doing this, Justin?" you demand, your voice trembling but resolute. "What do you want from me?"
He stops abruptly, turning to face you. His lips twitch into a faint, humourless smile. "This isn’t about what I want," he says quietly. "This is about what’s right."
You scoff, your anger surging despite the fear gnawing at you. "Right? You call kidnapping me right? You’re delusional."
He doesn’t flinch at your words, instead crouching down to your level, his eyes boring into yours. "You don’t understand, do you?" he says softly, almost pityingly. "You’re a pawn in a much bigger game. Jaeyun’s game."
"And what does that make me in your game, Justin?" you snap, your voice sharp.
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. "I’m not playing games," he insists. "I’m trying to show you the truth. Jaeyun doesn’t care about you—he never has. To him, you’re just another piece on the board, someone to control and manipulate to his advantage."
You glare at him, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. "And you think you’re any better? You think dragging me here, tying me up, and ranting about Jaeyun makes you some kind of saviour?"
His face darkens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or guilt. "I’m trying to free you from him," he says, his voice low.
"Free me?" you laugh bitterly, shaking your head. "Stop treating me as your moral compass. You know damn well this has nothing to do with saving me. You just want to use me to get back at Jaeyun."
Justin’s expression falters, his composure cracking. He stands abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he begins pacing again.
"It’s not like that," he mutters, more to himself than to you.
"Then what is it, Justin?" you press, your voice trembling with both anger and exhaustion. "Because this isn’t about me. This is about you and Jaeyun. And your obsession with him."
He stops pacing, his back to you. For a long moment, he says nothing, the silence stretching between you like a taut wire. Then, he speaks, his voice quieter, almost reflective.
"Jaeyun and I… we’ve been at this for years," he admits, his tone tinged with something bitter. "University. Work. Every step of the way, we’ve competed. Top marks, top internships, top investments. And every time I get close, he finds a way to edge me out."
You stare at him, your mind racing to process his words.
"Do you know how frustrating it is to always be second to someone who doesn’t even care?" he continues, his voice rising. "He doesn’t care about the people he steps on, the lives he ruins. He just takes. He took everything from me—and now he’s taken you too."
"Taken me?" you echo, incredulous. "This isn’t some prize to win, Justin. I’m a person, not a trophy for your petty rivalry."
He turns to face you again, his expression hard. "You don’t understand. He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t even see what he has."
"And you think you do?" you snap. "You’re not trying to save me, Justin. You’re trying to hurt him."
Justin’s pacing grows more erratic, his voice rising as he spits out his frustrations. "He never cared about you," he snaps, his tone dripping with venom. "Sending men to beat me up because he can’t even do it himself! Everything he does is about rubbing it in my face."
You flinch at the bitterness in his words, your breath catching as the room seems to grow colder.
"He couldn’t even be bothered to show up at the gala," Justin continues, his voice cracking with anger. "But the moment he thinks I’ve crossed some invisible line, he sends his dogs after me. And you think that’s about you? No. It’s about me. About proving he’s one step ahead, always in control."
"You’re wrong," you say, your voice trembling.
"Am I?" he counters, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you. "Think about it, Y/N. Think about the way he treats you. The way he treats everyone. You’re just a piece on his board, another way for him to win."
You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. "You don’t know that."
"I know him better than you ever could," Justin growls, stepping closer. "I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. Every move he makes, every decision—it’s all calculated. And this? Sending men after me? That wasn’t about protecting you. That was about humiliating me."
You bite your lip, refusing to let his words burrow deeper. "And what about you, Justin? Are you any better? You’ve tied me to this chair, dragged me into this mess, and you’re standing here acting like you’re doing me some kind of favour."
"I’m trying to show you the truth," he snaps, his tone raw.
"No," you say firmly, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury. "You’re trying to one-up Jaeyun. This isn’t about me, and it never was. You’re just as obsessed with beating him as you claim he is with controlling you."
His expression falters for a moment, a flicker of guilt passing through his eyes. But then he clenches his jaw, his resolve hardening. "I’m not like him," he insists, though his voice lacks its earlier conviction.
"Then prove it," you say, meeting his gaze head-on. "Let me go."
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might actually listen. But then he shakes his head, turning away from you.
"Not yet," he murmurs, almost to himself. "Not until I’ve made my point."
You swallow hard, your chest tightening as the reality of the situation sinks in. Justin isn’t going to let you go—not until he’s done whatever it is he’s convinced himself he needs to do.
His fingers move swiftly over your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. "I’ll show you exactly how little you mean to him. When he comes, he won’t even bat an eye at you. It’ll all be about him—his pride, his control, his need to be the one in charge."
Your stomach twists, and you tug at the restraints on your wrists, panic building in your chest. "Justin, stop this."
He ignores your protests, holding the phone up so you can see the screen. He snaps a picture of you—bound to the chair, your face pale with fear—and then types out a message.
You: You want her back? Come and get her.
You watch helplessly as he hits send, the message shooting off to Jaeyun.
"You’re insane," you hiss, struggling against the bindings. "This won’t prove anything."
"It’ll prove everything," Justin says, his smirk widening. "You’ll see. When he shows up, it won’t be about you. It’ll be about him. About showing me up. About proving he’s the better man."
"You don’t know that," you snap, though your voice wavers.
"I know him better than you think," Justin says, his tone calm and measured. "He won’t even look at you properly. He won’t ask if you’re okay. He’ll only care about putting me in my place."
Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to believe. The man in front of you is unhinged, but his words strike a chord of doubt you can’t entirely ignore.
Justin steps back, his confidence radiating as he pockets his phone. "You’ll see soon enough," he says simply. "And when he comes, when he proves me right, you’ll finally understand who Jaeyun really is."
You glare at him, your heart pounding as you pull against the bindings. "You’re delusional," you spit.
"Am I?" he asks, his smirk unwavering.
The room falls into a tense silence, the weight of his words hanging over you like a dark cloud. You can only pray that he’s wrong, that Jaeyun will come—not because of pride or rivalry, but because somewhere, buried deep within his frozen heart, there’s a small warmth that still holds you in it.
But as the minutes tick by, the doubt Justin planted in your mind begins to grow.
The memories swirl in your mind, colliding with Justin’s words like pieces of a puzzle you wish didn’t fit. You’ve always told yourself that Jaeyun’s indifference was a defence mechanism, a way to protect himself from something deeper. But what if it wasn’t? What if Justin is right, and everything you’ve clung to was just wishful thinking?
"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Justin’s voice cuts through your thoughts, smug and sharp. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a knowing look. "Wondering if I’m right. Wondering if he’ll even come."
"Shut up," you snap, though your voice lacks its usual strength.
"I don’t blame you," he says, shrugging. "He’s made you doubt yourself. Doubt him. That’s what he does, Y/N. He keeps you just close enough to keep you hoping, but not close enough to let you in. And when he does come, it’s never for you. It’s for himself."
You shake your head, refusing to let him poison your mind any further. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Don’t I?" he counters, raising an eyebrow. "Then why are you here, Y/N? Why aren’t you at home with a husband who loves and protects you? Why are you the one who always has to wonder if you even matter to him?"
Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let him see you break. "You’re only saying this because of your hatred for him. You don’t care about me. You’re just as bad as him."
Justin’s smirk fades, his jaw tightening. "Maybe I am," he admits. "But at least I’m honest about it. Can you say the same for him?"
The sound of your phone buzzing on the table snaps both of you to attention. Justin picks it up, glancing at the screen with a satisfied grin.
"Looks like he got my message," he says, holding up the phone so you can see Jaeyun’s reply:
Jaeyun: Where is she?
Jaeyun: Fucking bastard, I swear if you so lay a single finger on her I’m going to kill you.
Justin tosses the phone back onto the table and crosses the room to face you. "This is it," he says, his voice dripping with confidence. "When he gets here, you’ll see exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you."
You swallow hard, your heart pounding as the weight of the situation sinks in. The doubt, the fear, the flicker of hope you can’t quite extinguish—it all swirls together as you wait for the man you’ve spent years trying to understand to finally show his hand.
The silence in the warehouse is shattered by the sharp screech of tyres outside, the deafening sound of a car coming to an abrupt halt. Justin’s smirk falters slightly, though he quickly masks it, his eyes darting to the door.
Moments later, it bursts open with a crash, and Jaeyun strides in, his suit dishevelled, his tie loosened as if he’d rushed to get here. His eyes immediately scan the room, landing on you—bound, frightened, but alive. His expression hardens, the sharpness in his gaze like a blade cutting through the tension.
“Let her go,” Jaeyun growls, his voice low and dangerous.
Justin steps forward, placing himself between you and Jaeyun, his smirk widening again as if to taunt him. “So predictable,” Justin sneers. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? I knew you’d come running.”
“I’m warning you, Justin,” Jaeyun snaps, his fists clenched at his sides. “Let her go.”
Justin chuckles, shaking his head. “You think this is about her? It’s always been about us. About showing you that you’re not invincible, that you’re not always in control.”
“Is that what this is?” Jaeyun spits, his voice rising. “A desperate attempt to prove something to yourself? You’re pathetic.”
Justin’s expression darkens, and he steps closer to Jaeyun, his movements quick and aggressive. “Pathetic? You’re the one who couldn’t even be bothered to care about her until now! Don’t act like you’re some hero. You don’t even love her.”
“You have no idea what I feel for her.” Jaeyun bites back, his voice trembling with restrained fury.
The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Justin seems taken aback. But then he scoffs, his confidence returning. “Words, Sim. Just words. But actions always speak louder.”
Before you can process what’s happening, Justin lunges, his fist aimed directly at Jaeyun. The sound of the impact is sickening, Jaeyun stumbling back as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. But he doesn’t back down.
“You think this will prove anything?” Jaeyun snaps, his voice filled with fire as he ducks under Justin’s next swing. “You’re nothing but a coward hiding behind your jealousy!”
Justin lets out a roar of frustration, his movements becoming more erratic as Jaeyun deflects blow after blow. It’s brutal. You scream, your voice echoing as you plead for them to stop, but neither man listens.
The room is a whirlwind of chaos, with fists flying and grunts of effort and pain filling the air. Justin’s confidence is beginning to waver as Jaeyun fights back with an intensity that you’ve never seen before. But the tide turns when Justin grabs a metal pipe from the corner of the warehouse, his face twisted with rage.
“Stay back!” Jaeyun growls, shielding you as Justin brandishes the weapon.
Justin’s laugh is bitter, almost maniacal. “Stay back? You think you can protect her, Jaeyun? You can’t even protect yourself.”
Before you can register what’s happening, Justin’s attention shifts to you. His gaze sharpens, his grip on the pipe tightening as he steps forward.
“Maybe she’s the problem,” Justin sneers, his voice low and menacing. “Maybe I need to remind you what’s really at stake.”
Your heart stops as Justin raises the pipe, his body coiling to strike. Panic floods your veins, your voice breaking as you scream, “Justin, no!”
But the blow never lands.
In an instant, Jaeyun moves, throwing himself in front of you just as Justin swings the pipe downward. The sickening sound of metal meeting flesh reverberates through the warehouse, and Jaeyun staggers, a sharp cry escaping his lips.
“Jaeyun!” you scream, your voice raw with terror as he crumples to one knee, his arm instinctively clutching his side where the pipe struck. You struggle against the bindings, the rough material sinking deeper into your skin the more you tug on it.
You’re helpless, watching the man you love cradle in pain at your feet.
Justin stumbles back, momentarily stunned by what just happened. The pipe slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor with a metallic clang. “Why would you—?” Justin begins, his voice faltering.
Jaeyun doesn’t waste another second. Summoning the last of his strength, he lunges forward, delivering a final, powerful punch that sends Justin sprawling to the floor.
The room falls silent except for the sound of Jaeyun’s laboured breathing. He stumbles towards you, his movements unsteady but determined. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse as he kneels to untie the ropes, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.
Tears blur your vision as you nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “You’re hurt,” you whisper, your hands trembling as you reach for him.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the wince that follows says otherwise.
Justin groans from the floor, trying to push himself up. “This doesn’t change anything,” he sneers weakly. “You don’t care about her. This was about beating me, as always.”
Jaeyun doesn’t even glance his way. Instead, he cups your face gently, his eyes searching yours. “Are you hurt?” he asks softly, his voice trembling with something you can’t quite place.
“N-No,” you stammer, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.
“Good,” he breathes a sigh of relief, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”
Justin’s laugh is bitter and broken. “Still pretending to be the noble husband, I see. How long can you keep up the act, Jaeyun?”
Jaeyun turns to him, his expression cold and unyielding. “This isn’t about you, Justin. It never was. You wanted to prove I don’t care about her, but you’re wrong. She’s the only thing I care about.”
The words hit you like a tidal wave, your breath catching as the weight of them sinks in.
Justin stares at Jaeyun, his confidence finally cracking as the realisation dawns. He’s lost—not just the fight, but the twisted narrative he tried to build.
Jaeyun helps you to your feet, his arm wrapping around your waist as he steadies you. “We’re leaving,” he says firmly, leading you towards the door without sparing Justin another glance.
As the warehouse disappears behind you, the cold night air hits your face, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you can breathe again.
“Jaeyun…” you begin, your voice trembling as he helps you into the car.
“I’ll explain everything,” he says, his tone soft but resolute. “But first, let’s get you home.”
And as the car pulls away, you realise that for once, you believe him.
The drive home is silent, except for the hum of the engine and the shallow breaths Jaeyun tries to control. You steal glances at him from the passenger seat, your heart twisting at the sight of him wincing with every turn of the wheel. His shirt is stained with blood, his knuckles bruised and swollen, but his grip on the wheel is steady, determined.
“Jaeyun,” you whisper, your voice cutting through the tension.
He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but his jaw tightens slightly. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” you argue softly, your hands wringing in your lap. “You need to see a doctor. Your ribs—”
“We’ll deal with it later,” he interrupts, his tone firm but not unkind. “Right now, I just need to get you somewhere safe.”
The word safe settles heavily in your chest, and you’re not sure if it means the house you share or simply being by his side.
As you pull into the driveway, the reality of the night crashes over you. The headlights flick off, leaving you both sitting in the dark, the faint sound of crickets filling the air. You hesitate, unsure of what to say or how to move forward.
Jaeyun breaks the silence first. “Let’s get inside,” he says, his voice softer now, almost gentle.
You follow him to the door, his movements slower and more careful than usual. Once inside, he collapses onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning back and closing his eyes as if the weight of the world has finally caught up with him.
“Let me clean you up,” you say, your voice trembling as you move towards the kitchen to grab the first aid kit.
“You don’t have to,” he murmurs, but the exhaustion in his voice tells you he won’t fight it.
When you return, kneeling beside him, he opens his eyes and watches you silently. You avoid his gaze as you press a damp cloth to the cut above his eyebrow, your hands trembling slightly.
The room is quiet now, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft rustling of your movements as you clean Jaeyun’s wounds. His eyes remain fixed on you, studying every flicker of emotion across your face. He winces slightly as you dab a cut on his temple, but he doesn’t pull away.
You break the silence first, your voice trembling but resolute. “Why did you really come tonight, Jaeyun?”
He exhales deeply, the tension in his shoulders visible as he leans back against the couch. “You know why,” he says softly.
“No, I don’t,” you reply, setting the cloth down. “I don’t know why, I never know why. So, please, talk to me.” Your voice falters, the weight of the night catching up with you.
“I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Jaeyun replies simply, his eyes fixed on you. “It wasn’t even a question.”
The sincerity in his voice makes your throat tighten. You pause, your hand hovering over the cloth as you finally meet his gaze. “Why?” you whisper. “Why now? After everything? You’ve spent so much time pushing me away, avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague. And then tonight…”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away, his expression unreadable. “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s the only way I could keep you safe.”
Your brow furrows, confusion mixing with frustration. “Safe? Safe from what?”
“From me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “From my life. From the kind of man I am.”
You freeze, the confession hanging heavy in the air. “What are you talking about?”
Jaeyun leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasps his hands together. “I’m not a good person, Y/N. I never have been. In business, in life, I do what needs to be done. I act with consequences in mind, and I don’t regret it. But that means I’ve made enemies—people like Justin, who would do anything to see me fail.”
You stare at him, your chest tightening as the pieces begin to fall into place.
“Justin isn’t the first person who’s tried to get to me through someone I care about,” he continues, his voice steady but filled with a quiet anguish. “He won’t be the last. And the thought of you being dragged into that—being hurt because of me—is something I couldn’t, and still can’t handle. So I distanced myself. I thought it would protect you.”
You shake your head, your voice rising with disbelief. “So you thought ignoring me, shutting me out, was the answer? Do you have any idea how that made me feel? How lonely it’s been, living in this house with someone who acts like I don’t even exist?”
His eyes snap to yours, and you see a crack in his armour. “I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I know I hurt you. And I hated myself for it every single day. But I didn’t know what else to do. Loving you—it feels like giving you a loaded gun and hoping you don’t get hurt because of it.”
The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless. “Loving me?” you echo, your voice trembling.
Jaeyun nods, his gaze unwavering. “Yes,” he says firmly. “Loving you, Y/N. Keeping my distance was the only way I know that I’m capable of loving you. Because I know you deserve better than me—better than the life your parents and I have dragged you into.”
His words hit you like a blow to the chest, the rawness of his confession cutting through every wall you’ve built. You stare at him, your breath catching as the weight of his emotions settles over you.
The cold distance, the avoidance, the rare moments of tenderness—it all makes sense now, in the most heartbreaking way.
“You think loving me means pushing me away?” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Don’t you think I should get to decide what I deserve?”
He looks at you, his expression filled with regret and longing. “I didn’t want to be selfish,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to keep you in a life where you’d always be a target, always be second to the chaos I bring. But tonight—” His voice breaks, and he takes a shaky breath. “seeing you like that, knowing Justin had you—I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Not like that. Not ever.”
Jaeyun looks down, his hands clenching into fists on his knees. He’s crying now—fully, uncontrollably crying. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “But I didn’t know how to keep you safe without hurting you either…”
You stay quiet, mostly because you don’t even know what to say. Part of you understands Jaeyun did what he thought was right, that he truly believed he was protecting you. But another part of you is just so angry—angry at the thought that he didn’t trust you enough to make decisions for yourself, angry that he acted as though he alone could determine what was best for you.
But as you look at him now, shoulders hunched, tears streaming down his face, and barely able to catch his breath as he speaks, you falter. You see the pain etched into every line of his face, the raw anguish in his voice, and you know it hurt him as much as—maybe even more than—it hurt you.
When you don’t respond for a long moment, Jaeyun exhales deeply, his breath shaky and uneven. “I wanted you to leave me on your own,” he admits, his voice breaking, “because I knew I could never leave you. But you were so stubborn. You stayed. Even after everything, you stayed.”
His words hit you like a blow to the chest, striking a nerve you didn’t even know was exposed. The trembling vulnerability in his voice, the quiet admission of his fears, cuts through your anger and replaces it with something else—something raw, aching, and painfully bittersweet.
“You stayed,” he repeats, his voice barely a whisper, as though he still can’t quite believe it. “Even when I gave you every reason to walk away. Even when I hurt you. And I couldn’t understand why.”
“Do you want to know why I stayed?” you ask, your own voice trembling now as you search his face for the answers he’s yet to give.
He nods, his tear-filled eyes meeting yours, wide and filled with uncertainty.
“Honestly, I’ve been running away from this feeling, from this truth that I was never ready to face,” you begin, your voice wavering but steady enough to push through. “And that is, despite everything—despite every bone, every nerve in my body telling me to stop doing this to myself—I hoped. I hoped that you’d prove me wrong one day. I hoped that if I stayed long enough, maybe you’d stop pushing me away and let me in.”
Jaeyun flinches, his expression crumpling under the weight of your words. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice cracking as fresh tears spill over.
The silence that follows is heavy, thick with tension, the air between you charged with everything unsaid. His hands twitch at his sides, as though he wants to reach for you but can’t quite bring himself to do it. The hesitation in his movements is almost palpable.
“I thought if you hated me,” he says finally, his voice low and pained, “it would be easier for you to walk away. But you didn’t hate me. You never gave up. And that scared me more than anything.”
Your voice trembles as you stare at him, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on your chest. “I do hate you,” you admit, the words falling like stones between you. “So much.”
Jaeyun flinches as though you’ve struck him, his breath hitching, and for a moment, he looks like he’s bracing himself for more. But you’re not finished.
“But loving you…” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky breath, blinking away the tears that blur your vision. “Loving you hurts more than hating you.”
His head snaps up, his wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto yours. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrors your own, and the silence that follows is deafening.
“I’ve tried,” you continue, your voice breaking under the weight of your emotions. “I’ve tried to hate you, to tell myself that it’s easier, that it’s what I should feel after everything. But it isn’t. Because no matter how much you’ve hurt me, no matter how much I’ve wanted to walk away, I can’t stop loving you. And that… that’s what hurts the most.”
Jaeyun’s breath shudders, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. You can see the hesitation in his movements, the way his hands twitch at his sides as if he’s fighting the urge to reach for you.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice trembling. “For all of it. For every time I hurt you, every time I pushed you away when all you ever did was stay.”
Your heart clenches at the rawness in his tone, the vulnerability he’s finally letting you see. You take a small step forward, the distance between you shrinking, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his carefully constructed walls crumble entirely.
“You don’t have to apologise anymore,” you say softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “Just… don’t make me regret staying.”
Then, as if something inside him snaps, he steps closer, his trembling hands reaching out to cup your face. “I won’t,,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I never give you a reason to hate me again.”
Before you can say anything else, Jaeyun closes the remaining distance between you. His arms wrap around you, tentative at first, as though he’s afraid you’ll push him away. But when you don’t, when you melt into his embrace, his hold tightens. Even with the searing pain in his ribs, he presses his body against yours as though he’s terrified of letting you go.
The warmth of his touch is overwhelming, and you bury your face in his chest, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. His heartbeat is erratic against your cheek, mirroring the rapid pounding of your own.
You tilt your head up to look at him, your breath catching as you see the intensity in his gaze. His eyes are filled with something you’ve longed to see—love, raw and unguarded. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped.
“I don’t deserve you,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion.
“Maybe not,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m still here.”
He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. You meet him halfway, your lips pressing against his in a kiss that is as tentative as it is electrifying.
The world seems to fall away as his lips move against yours, soft and searching, as though he’s pouring every unspoken word, every buried emotion, into this one moment. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, a mixture of desperation and relief in the way he holds you.
When you finally pull away, breathless and overwhelmed, his forehead rests against yours. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the emotion trembling beneath it.
The words hang in the air, soft but weighty, like a promise long overdue.
You nod, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you smile softly. Hearing those three words from him is something you never thought would happen, something you’d almost given up hoping for.
They settle in your chest, filling the void that had been carved out by years of distance and pain. And yet, they don’t feel fleeting or uncertain. They feel real.
“I love you too,” you whisper back, the confession spilling from your lips without hesitation.
His arms tighten around you, as though anchoring himself to you, and in that moment, the weight of the past begins to fall away. It doesn’t erase the hurt, the scars, or the battles you’ve fought, but it lays the foundation for something new.
Something worth hoping for, worth holding onto.
The morning sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. The faint chirping of birds filters through the open window, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. You stir beneath the covers, blinking against the golden light, and instinctively reach out.
Your hand brushes against Jaeyun’s, and his fingers wrap around yours reflexively. A soft smile spreads across your face as you realise he’s already awake, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, carrying a hint of amusement as if he’s caught you in a rare, unguarded moment.
You smile, the simple greeting filling the room with a kind of light you hadn’t felt in years. “Good morning,” you reply, your fingers brushing against the wedding ring that now sits firmly on your finger—a symbol that, finally, feels like it truly means something.
Jaeyun leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You looked peaceful,” he says, his fingers brushing your cheek. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
You laugh softly, resting your hand on his chest. “You can’t just watch me sleep, Jaeyun. That’s… mildly creepy.”
His laugh rumbles in his chest, a sound you’ve come to treasure. “Fair point,” he admits, his eyes sparkling.
“Do you have any plans today?” he asks, shifting closer, his arm slipping around your waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You shake your head, laughing softly. “Not unless you count breakfast.”
He grins, the boyish charm you rarely saw before now shining through. “I was hoping we could spend the day doing nothing. Just… being here. Together.”
You nod, the simplicity of the suggestion warming you. “I’d like that.”
The morning unfolds with quiet moments that feel extraordinary in their ordinariness—Jaeyun making coffee, you teasing him about burning the toast, laughter filling the kitchen as you both try to perfect pancakes. It’s these moments, you realise, that make a life worth living. Not grand gestures or elaborate plans, but the small, quiet ways you choose each other every day.
As the day stretches on, you find yourselves curled up on the sofa, your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns along your arm. The television hums in the background, forgotten as you both bask in the peace you fought so hard to find.
The man beside you now isn’t the distant, closed-off Jaeyun you once knew. He’s present, attentive, and more open than you ever thought possible. It wasn’t an overnight change, that’s for sure. But somewhere along the way, you both chose to stop running—from yourselves, from each other, and from the future you could build together.
What you have now feels special, priceless. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You’ve learned, through pain and healing, that happiness doesn’t come from wealth or success. True happiness comes from love.
The kind of love that makes you giddy inside.
The kind of love you once believed only existed in fairy tales.
The kind of love that everyone seeks but few find.
The kind of love you’ve found with him.
They say if he’s not calling, it’s because you’re not on his mind. Once, you believed that. You let it eat away at you, let it shape your every thought, every quiet moment when his absence felt louder than words. You told yourself his silence was a choice, that his excuses were just another way to say you didn’t matter enough.
But now, sitting beside him as the evening light filters through the curtains, his hand resting over yours, you realise how wrong you were—not about the hurt, not about the cracks that formed between you, but about what lay beneath them. He wasn’t running because you didn’t matter. He was running because you mattered too much. And it took breaking everything apart for you both to understand how to rebuild it.
Your gaze falls to the tattoo on your ring finger, a faint mark that once felt like a brand tethering you to emptiness. It’s still there, as permanent as the scars this marriage once bore. But now, it’s different. It’s not a reminder of disappointment or neglect, not a mark of the silence that stretched between you. It’s a symbol of endurance, of a love that’s messy and flawed but undeniably real.
But you’ve learned that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, about facing the hard truths and still choosing to stay.
“Busy” may have once been his excuse. But now, “always” is his answer.
⇀ best friends to lovers, college au, slow burn (19.8k words)
it takes you a while to realize being known is being loved, and kim seungmin just so happens to be an expert in the study of you
the things we define as love ☆
⇀ strangers to lovers, college au (2.4k words)
a study of love through the lens of a tired photography student who has long given up on romance
i hate that man
⇀ enemies to lovers, college au (5.5k words)
the four times you think you hate seungmin, and the one time you realize that might’ve not been true after all
one in the morning ☆
⇀ roommates to lovers, reader is sick (1.0k words)
roommate seungmin takes care of you when you catch a cold
halfway through summer ☆
⇀ best friends to lovers, fluff, can happen in the universe of “eighteen” (1.0k words)
that one time kim seungmin almost confesses
end of the day
⇀ established relationship, comfort, slice of life (0.8k words)
med student comes home to law student seungmin after a long, tiring shift
pandora’s box ☆
⇀ enemies to lovers, hanahaki au, school au (14.0k words)
seungmin chances you on the day you accidentally puke petals in the men’s bathroom. who would’ve thought this one encounter would lead sworn enemy to help you get your longtime crush’s attention?
cops and robbers
⇀ fuckboy seungmin, college au (3.8k words)
fuckboy kim seungmin takes interest in the quiet, photography major who lives just across his dorm
ten things kim seungmin says when he thinks you’re asleep ☆ ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
ex!seungmin thinking of u when he graduates ⇀ rly short, angst, exes to ?
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ han jisung
meet odd ☆
⇀ acquaintance to lovers, college au, fluff (2.3k words)
you get to know han jisung under strange circumstances or alternatively “we live in the same floor and the room between ours always has really loud sex so now we’re both in the main lounge at 2am… do you want this last bit of ice cream?”
don’t be a stranger
⇀ friends to lovers, college au, fluff, part 2 to meet odd (4.3k words)
you really need to stop meeting han jisung under odd circumstances or alternatively, i accidentally locked myself out of my apartment and you’re offering that i sleep at yours for the night?
to be human ☆
⇀ roommate au, friends to lovers, kind of comfort fic, supernatural au (~1k words)
your shapeshifter friend forgets how to turn back into a human and has a crisis
instead of sorry, i love you
⇀ established relationship, angst to fluff, makeup after a fight (~0.7k words)
inspired by that one han jisung voicemail
loving is terrifying
⇀ best friends to lovers, accidental confessions, fluff (1.6k words)
in the midst of ranting, han jisung accidentally confesses he’s in love with you
han vs homework
⇀ established relationship, lots of kissing, fluff (1.0k words)
ur clingy bf han jisung just wants to kiss u silly
ten things han jisung says when he thinks you’re asleep ☆ ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ hwang hyunjin
practice makes perfect
⇀ best friends to lovers, college au, fluff (2.1k words)
hyunjin stresses how important it is that you help him practice for his role in your university’s upcoming play, especially the kissing scene
a memory kept forever ☆
⇀ best friends to lovers au, fluff (1.1k words)
your favorite memory litters hwang hyunjin (conversation inspired by a lumax scene in s4)
summer strike ☆
⇀ strangers to lovers, found family, fluff (23k words)
having had enough of your life in the big city, you head to a small town where you meet a local librarian who feels a lot like love
the first snowflake
⇀ unrequited love, comfort, best friends to ? (1.0k words)
your best friend comforts you over unrequited love
in the quiet
⇀ idol au, fluff, established relationship (0.6k words)
there is love on stage, and there is love in the background. or in other words, hyunjin holds you in the quiet of his hotel room
ten things hwang hyunjin says when he thinks you’re asleep ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ yang jeongin
imagine (a world like that) ☆
⇀ exes to not so lovers, first love, bittersweet (3k words)
a trip back to busan on his break reunites jeongin with his first and only love — and it has him wondering, if one thing had been different, would everything be different today?
my girl
⇀ established relationship, fluff (1.3k words)
the boys find out their youngest has a gf
ten things yang jeongin says when he thinks you’re asleep ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ lee minho
kiss me
⇀ established relationship, fluff, lots of kissing (1.4k words)
your favorite genre of lee minho is when he’s needy and begging for your kisses after a long exhausting day
winter wind
⇀ best friends to lovers, pining (1.5k words)
a look into lee minho’s realization that maybe he is eager for the affection of someone else featuring the menaces, seungmin and jisung
labyrinth ☆
⇀ best friends to lovers, college au, slow burn, comfort, second love (20k words)
sometimes, the path towards healing involves not only mending your heart but trusting in the love of those who have been there all along, or alternatively, in which lee minho teaches you to love again
another year with you ☆
⇀ established relationship, cozy mornings, fluff, for lee know’s birthday (0.5k words)
waking up to you and his cats, minho couldn’t possibly ask for anything more on his birthday
new year’s day
⇀ established relationship, just quiet and sweet love (0.8k words)
“i’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day” inspired by taylor’s new year’s day
the making of a morning person
⇀ established relationship, fluff (1.7k words)
there is still time for love even in busy mornings
ten things lee know says when he thinks you’re asleep ☆ ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ seo changbin
drunk in love ☆
⇀ best friends to lovers, mutual pining, extreme fluff (2.2k words)
getting drunk for the first time with the one person you trust the most doesn’t sound like a bad idea, right? even if you’re madly in love with them?
ten things seo changbin says when he thinks you’re asleep ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ lee felix
when it rains, it pours
⇀ established relationship, hurt/comfort (1k words)
you’re upset. you don’t know why, but felix is there to hold your hand through your sadness
swipe
⇀ strangers to lovers, chronicles of dating apps, felix is flirty, fluff (3.2k words)
i’m not looking to date right now, but my parents just sent me some computer parts and i saw on your tinder bio that you like assembling computers
ten things lee felix says when he thinks you’re asleep ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ bang chan
one more month ☆
⇀ established relationship, fluff, idol au (0.6k words)
chan misses you while he’s on tour
coming home ☆
⇀ established relationship, fluff, idol au (0.8k words)
chan surprises you by coming home
shall we dance?
⇀ strangers to lovers, fluff (0.9k words)
chan giving you his shoes when your feet hurt
ten things bang chan says when he thinks you’re asleep ⇀ established relationship, fluff, a sprinkle of angst
dating him ⇀ established relationship, boyfriend headcanons, fluff
✰ ot8
their reaction to you falling asleep on them and telling them you love them for the first time ⇀ established relationship, just extreme fluff
the unsent project (angst edition)
stolen kisses with stray kids ⇀ established relationship, extreme fluff, some might be suggestive ?
summary: a group of friends form on nsfw twitter, and hijinks ensue. but when jisu starts catching feelings for soobin after filming with him, she has to grapple with her feelings while assuring her close bond with him doesn’t die.
warnings: choi soobin x oc (moon jisu), smau, smut, fluff, angst, crack, the rest of txt is here too, aespa is also here just bc they serve, no relationships or events in this story reflect real ships and are just for the story, this is a pro sex-work story obv, lowkey probably gonna be filthy as hell considering it’s a sex work au, vague relationships lmao, she/they oc because i’m projecting, genderfluid yeonjun agenda, oc has a not-so-secret thing for soobin’s hands, they use fake names on twt :)
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; SYNOPSIS - school sucks. especially when everyone’s avoiding you like the plague - all because you’re the principal’s daughter. so it comes as a surprise when a strip of paper falls out of your locker one day, with a corny pick up line written on it. now you only have one question on your mind: who the hell is nishimura riki?
PAIRING(S) | bff’s older brother Lee Heeseung x female reader ft Jake x Lee Haerin
GENRE(S) | smau, fluff, crack, college, friends to lovers
WARNING(S) | profanity, my humor is kind broken, your mom jokes, mc is kinda lying to themselves, little bully, little of mature stuff but really that far, ignore timestamps!
NOTE got inspired by a TikTok about how Enhypen would react to not being allowed to date you because of their siblings. So the quote is also from them. I will put TikTok here up.
FEATURING. Kep1er Dayeon and Hikaru more idols
SYNOPSIS: For the years Y/n had know Haerin her best friend, she had first sit for Lee Heeseung. Haerin’s older brother, the one she didn’t wanna fall for him. Having promised to Haerin not to fall for him, the one rule they had. She broke it before she knew it.
Or in when Heeseung has always liked his younger sister friend but was to scared to make move on her. So when fate brings them back together at college, Heeseung decided he will take his chance not caring what everyone thinks about it.
Ok so someone in my asks box asked me for some fic recommendations and I tried to add some gradually but my asks have been so weird recently so I've had to make a new post for them!
First of all ty anonnie you words were really sweet, I hope you stay healthy too!
Also just to preface I will list sfw and nsfw recs so pls if you are a minor, do not explore the nsfw recommendations, these blogs will most likely have a mdni statement so pls respect that and don't go against that :)
Now, enjoy!
SFW
Enough for you - @mixtape-racha (poly ot8 angst comfort)
We love an angst comfort fic and this is one of my faves. Take caution reading this one and read the content warnings at the top just in case! But this one is simply amazing and I wish I wrote it the end.
The Field Trip - @dreamescapeswriting (Seungmin X reader)
Seungmin and reader are teachers in this and if you follow me you may have seen me reblog this one before bc I love it and want this, also this blog has so many imagines you will be fed for days
I felt so emotionally invested in this story when I read it, like I felt readers pain 😭 gorgeous
jack-in-the-box -@junicai (angst, ninth member reader)
Set in kingdom. We hate mnet. Skz are very protective and reader gets the comfort she deserves in the end, love this sm!
@hyunjinsbelovedamericano - lots of headcanons and reaction type fics on their MASTERLIST, give it a look!!
Simptober 2023 - @skz-streamer
Fluff for days!!! pookie rly worked hard on this one so go and show some love because you've got so much to read here
Skz text aus - @channiesbakery
These are so so funny I cannot cope. Also explore the other fluff posts too bc they're really cute!
More text aus - @diddybok
Same goes for this blog too, explore their other stuff!
@hannahhbahng has some rly cute fluffy reads on their masterlist
@hanjiquokkaaa check out their skz reactions! My pookie slays every time
Skz fluff fics - @wooahaes
So much fluff to pick from! I fall in love every time!
Warm milk and honey - @horanghoe (poly skz x reader)
One of my fav skz comfort fics of all time, it's so so good, recommending again bc I should
In his arms, unexpectedly yours - @cheesemonky (Hyunjin x reader series)
This is a new series which I'm excited to see my pookie write !!!
@astraysimp for dad skz!!!
Nicholas Ross - @dean-a-mean-tae (skz ninth member male oc)
Love their ninth member writings so definitely check it out if you're looking for male!oc who is the ninth!
In my past, I find you and in the future, I still have you - @yangbbokari (Chan x reader)
Heartbreaking, like so angsty but it's gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous
Princess treatment with SKZ - @j-oneproduces
Each individual member x reader has a drabble and I love it so so much, very accurate imo
@skzoologist read their imagines on their ninth member oc Bae! They also have a fic called unfamiliarity using the same oc :)
I like the view - @mirisss (hybrid ot8 skz X reader)
I rly need to reread this one because I loved what I read so far on it!!!
NSFW
Rabbit hybrid reader - @authorofdanger (hybrid skz x hybrid reader)
I've linked a masterlist, I'd recommend the fic dominance and then the first few fics which are to do with reader as a rabbit hybrid! slight warning that woojin is mentioned
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Red Moon - @lixiepeach (omegaverse series)
this is one of the first skz omegaverse fics I read and it is done so beautifully, as it says in the description of the series, it deals with more adult content than just smut, and the way it is explored is written so well, couldn't recommend highly enough!
Inked Petals and Message Tones - @leviackermanscleaningbuddy (poly smau with real life)
this is an ao3 skz fic which changed my life. I can't explain how much I love this, it had me on an emotional rollercoaster fr fr like it's amazing!
n.h.i.e mini series - @hyungszn (smut ot8 x reader)
damn this one really has me on my toes like the chapters are chefs kiss and it's such a good read!
Bold - @hyunsvngs (American footballer minsung x reader)
Wow wow wee wow. This one made my brain go brrr and evaporate and melt and wow the storyline in it is so so good too. Juno rly has such a good relationship with anonnies and moots and it's so lovely to see. A jupiter stan right here!!
Sanguis Limerence - @jl-micasea-fics (vampire skz x reader)
This is one of the first series I was fully committed to reading on this all and constantly checking. It's insanely amazing, I can't put it into words and now I wanna read it all back again 😭
waiting for us - @kkami-writes (smau poly ot8 X reader)
I'm in love with this!!! Perhaps my fav skz smau like the character development as well is really nice to see and it's an easy read if you find it easier to read it in text messages form
Anger management - @2chopsticks2eyes (minsung x reader)
This is so hot and the way the storyline progresses as well is beautiful
@1-800-shedevil I'm in awe of her and her blog. Gorgeous writer, gorgeous writing. Her posts about body positivity rly are so helpful and her words are so comforting
Sharing = caring - @cbini (ot8 X reader)
This is unbelievably good and if you haven't seen it yet? Do you even Tumblr? Love how ems has such a good relationship with moots and in answering asks too! cbinian for life
Better than revenge - @lixie-phoria (smau Jeongin x reader)
I'm so obsessed with this series so far, putting it here bc there's smut to be added in the future. But I'm in love with it so far wow!!!
— black coffee was never really your favourite, you preferred sweet teas and hot chocolates over the bitter taste of coffee beans. maybe you'd give it another try. books and stories were always a comforting constant in your life, the endings always stayed the same no matter what. maybe it was time for a change.
profiles disney princesses avengers assemble
01—cover my shift 02—worth a try 03—cage 04—humiliated 05—rat queen 06—declaration of love 07—don't deny it 08—it isn't a date 09—my girl 10—name 11—name 12—name 13—name 14—name 15—name 17—name 18—name 19—name 20—name 21—name 22—name 23—name 24—name 25—name 26—name 27—name 28—name 29—name 30—name 31—name 32—name 33—name 34—name 35—name 36—name 37—name 38—name 39—name 40—name
looking at the stars, the only thing seungmin could think about was you, that’s why he loved them so much. the regret of breaking up had filled your hearts, so when you run into each other after a year what happens?
“our memories become stars”
status: completed (6.13-12.20)
update schedule: nonexistent at this point 💀
contains: angst, fluff, misunderstandings, mutual pinning, obliviousness (on both sides), swearing, kys/kms jokes, jeongin being a menace to society, best friend changbin, mentions of drinking, happy ending!
a/n: this is my first smau so sorry if things don’t line up or it isn’t the best! feedback is appreciated <3
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summary: late at night, kim seungmin finds a girl standing in the pouring rain, and offers her his small umbrella. after she gets home, seungmin never caught her name, or much of what she looks like. chaos strikes when the two college students attempt to find each other's identities.
pairings: kim seungmin x fem!reader , slight han x reader , lee know x reader
genre: fluff, college au, strangers to lovers, non-idol au
warnings: fluff, some angst, swearing
status: completed <3
-started 07/26/2022
-ended 08/09/2022
updates every day!
a/n: hello! this is my first ever smau on tumblr, and i am very new to this platform, so any requests/suggestions are welcome! you can always inbox me to be added to the taglist as well. hope you enjoy this new and upcoming series! -mel
profiles:
the losers club // pretty boys + hyunjin
chapter 1: tiny umbrella
chapter 2: iced americano
chapter 3: shivered my timbers
chapter 4: no tears left to cry
chapter 5: views
chapter 6: lover boy
chapter 7: his t-shirt
chapter 8: captain han reporting for duty
chapter 9: lover from a past life
chapter 10: just friends
chapter 11: out of all the days in the world
chapter 12: inch resting
chapter 13: please pick up
chapter 14: houston we have a problem
chapter 15: maknae treatment
chapter 16: new friends
chapter 17: no going back
chapter 18: as long as you're happy
chapter 19: told you so
chapter 20: i like the view right now
chapter 21: changbin u get no bitches
chapter 22: simpmin
chapter 23 (finale): prettier than the entire night sky
epilogue: years along the line
genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, university au, right person wrong time, minor character death
pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)
summary: Does love last forever, or is it fleeting? For university juniors Kim Seungmin and Seo Y/n, it's love at first sight but sometimes you meet your soulmate at the wrong time.
well, well, well, hold onto your textbooks, because here comes the tale of "the homework club,"
after "indirectly" volunteering to start a homework club you and your friends try to recruit members but nobody wants to join a nerdy nerd club right? wrong. after given an ultimatum: either join the homework club or face a month of detention kim seungmin and his little gucci gang reluctantly join.
will you bond over quadratic equations and shakespearean sonnets? or will chaos be the only option? oh yeah, and christoper (or chan as they call him) is just here for fun.
☆ genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers (kinda), university au, smau
☆ pairing: seungmin x y/n, skz x y/n, y/n uses she/her pronouns
☆ status: ongoing
☆ notes: i have no posting schedule so it might take long but i will try and post as regular as possible.
if the links don't work, search #the homework club or click the button (in the tags) and i will try my best to fix it quickly
marked by contemptuous or cocky boldness or disregard of others : INSOLENT
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He never needed anyone, never has and never will. At least that’s how his schoolmates describe him. Kim Seungmin has been the college it boy the second he set a foot on campus. People either love him or hate him, y/n happened to fall in the ladder.
So of course, as fate would have it, they get paired together for their senior thesis. Just when she thought her life couldn’t get any more stressful, she now has to work with the rich, entitled guy who always had everything handed to him on a silver platter.
A/N So, I was a bit stuck on what to write and then my friend gave this idea. So thanks to him, this image came to life (still not sure if its a good thing 😂)
Your eyes scanned through the house, staff placed on the couch as you looked around.
"Ya! Kim Shin! Come out now!" You screamed, your voice echoing through the house. You could hear footsteps and you looked to the stairs, seeing a young man with brown hair. He looked at you for a few seconds in confusion before walking backwards.
"Who are you?" He asked, a slight stutter of fear in his voice, and you scoffed.
"I need Kim Shin, where is he?" You asked, not caring about his question. You heard a loud thumb above you before it turned silent again.
"He's not here." The boy answered and you looked at him again with annoyance. You grabbed your staff and hit it on the ground softly before looking up. A hole had formed in the ceiling, revealing Shin before her fell down to the ground. You hit your staff on the ground again and the portal closed before you crouched down.
"Give it back." You growled and Shin looked up to you, still laying on the ground, before quickly looking away.
"I lost it..." He mumbled and your mouth dropped to the floor.
"You lost the book?!" You stood up as you screamed out and he quickly stood up as well, brushing off his clothes before holding up his hands in front of him.
"I didn't mean-" "Do not!" You interrupted him quickly and he froze, staring at you before sitting down. You sighed loudly before nodding at yourself and sending a spell at Kim Shin. He let out a scream before looking at you when he didn't feel any pain.
"Much fun with those." You pointed at his head and his hands immediately flew to his head, grabbing 2 giant ears on his head.
"What did you?" He cut himself off and ran to the mirror, yelping when he noticed the two giant cat ears on his head along with the long tail he wore.
"Turn me back!" "Not until I get my book back." You said, crossing your arms and sticking your tongue out at him.
"Please, I'll find it. Just- Please!" He whined loudly and you turned to look at him again.
"Do you want to turn into a tree for a few hundred years instead?" You asked and he visibly flinched at the thought before he pouted again.
"How can I go out like this?" He asked and you shrugged. "Figure it out." You said before walking away while Kim Shin pleaded behind you.
A week later, you visited again. The sight in front of you was quite surprising, the whole apartment was filled with books and such and Kim Shin was laying in the middle. He was curled into the couch, books in his hands as he skimmed through them before throwing them to the side. His cat ears were twitching slightly in concentration and you couldn't help but giggle. This catched his attention and his head snapped your way before he jumped up to run your way, tripping over all the books
"Remove them!" He yelled and you held your hand out.
"My book?" You asked and he whined loudly, falling to his knees in despair while holding his hands in front of him.
"Please just change me back! I beg you. For some reason I keep acting like a cat and Yeo's bullying me with catnip because of it." He whined and you frowned at the comment.
"You act like a cat?" You asked and he nodded; You looked away from him.
"That's not supposed to happen..." You quietly mumble to yourself, trying to think of a reason that the spell had gone so bad.
"Did I..." You paused, eyes widening as you realize. You used the wrong spell...
"What is it?" Kim Shin asked, standing up again and making you look at him by putting his hands on your shoulder.
"I used a wrong spell." You said sheepishly, giving an awkward smile as Shin looked at you with wide eyes of shock.
"You know how to fix it? Right?" He asked, but you stayed silent. "Right?!" He exclaimed, hands now gripping your shoulders tighter.
"I need the book for that..." You answered and he groaned loudly, falling to the floor and laying on the ground. You crouched and groaned before muttering a spell. A loud rumbling was heard before the book flew out from underneath a giant pile of books. Shin stared at you for a few seconds as he watched you browse through the book.
"You could find that book so easily?!" He then screamed, sitting up straight. You looked up, nodding before continuing to look through the book.
Hours later, you were sat in the couch with Shin laid down on your lap. He had fallen over from sitting next to you and you didn't really mind, your hand had already wandered to scratch behind his cat like ears as you browsed through the book.
You were barely a quarter in, the book was 5000 pages after all, and your eyes were already starting to feel heavy. Nonetheless, you continued before jumping when you suddenly felt a rumbling from Shin. You paused, looking at him before giggling when you realized that he was full on purring. You moved your hand, but he just whined before wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing his head into your stomach. You froze slightly before placing your hand back on his head awkwardly, to which he stopped pushing his head against you and instead he just softly sighed with a small smile. You looked at him for a few more seconds before going back to the book, but not without the bright smile on your face.
Another 3 hours passed before you found it, jumping up in joy and waking a sleeping Shin up. He looked around, a bit confused before his eyes focused on you. You were smiling at him as you showed the page of the book and he leaned closer, eyes squinting before they widened.
"You found it!" He exclaimed and you nodded before turning the book back around to read. After saying the spell, you heard a little whoosh of air and looked back up to see Shin, now without the ears or tail. His hands quickly grabbed at the none-existing ears. When he found none, he smiled brightly as he hugged you before slamming his lips against yours. Only seconds later, he seemed to realize what he did and pulled back.
You however were still in shock as little fireworks erupted next to your head, something that you were unable to avoid whenever you got happy.
"Do you, uh... Always spark like that?" He asked and you looked at him in annoyance before grabbing his collar and pulling him into a kiss once again. He was clearly shocked, his hands raised upwards slightly in awkwardness. However this didn't last long as his hands soon found a way to grab your face, pulling you in closer as he took lead. You only separated when you needed air before he pulled you in again, this time pushing you back until you were leaned against the couch.
You pulled back this time, pushing him back slightly before chuckling.
"Easy there..." You said and he chuckled this time, leaning his head on your shoulder with a sigh. He then muttered a small apology, his arms dropping to hang on your waist as he hugged you closer.
"You still a cat or something?" You joked and he hissed jokingly before raising his head to make eye-contact with you. He just stared at you for a few seconds before letting go, but still smiling slightly.
"You liked me as a cat, didn't you?" He teased and you sighed, dropping your shoulders in annoyance before turning around. Shin whined, pulling you back into a back hug.
"Ignore that, stay." He whined and you chuckled, turning around in his arms again.
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gwi nam almost kills you before remembering how much he loves you https://imadeanewaccount.tumblr.com/post/677128111475802112/can-i-have-a-gwi-nam-x-reader-where-gwi-nam
https://allofuswantgwinam.tumblr.com/post/679323854410252288/gwi-nam-in-bed-d-a-d-d-y-hella-tease-he-likes part 1/ part 2 https://allofuswantgwinam.tumblr.com/post/681073630515462144/gwi-nam-in-bed-pt-2-hehe-loves-pulling-your
https://allofuswantgwinam.tumblr.com/post/679038935403462656/gwi-nam-x-reader-warnings-smut-18-teasing part 1/part 2 https://allofuswantgwinam.tumblr.com/post/679508822417719296/gwi-nam-x-reader-part-2-part-1
part 1 https://allofuswantgwinam.tumblr.com/post/679323854410252288/gwi-nam-in-bed-d-a-d-d-y-hella-tease-he-likes part 2 https://allofuswantgwinam.tumblr.com/post/681073630515462144/gwi-nam-in-bed-pt-2-hehe-loves-pulling-your
LEE CHEONG SAN
HANG GYEONG SU
https://imadeanewaccount.tumblr.com/post/676427875616948224/i-always-feel-better-when-youre-here-gyeong-su part 1/ https://imadeanewaccount.tumblr.com/post/676862435007791104/welcome-to-my-bs part 2
finding out what happened to him after a big fight and not getting to talk it out because of the zombies https://imadeanewaccount.tumblr.com/post/676783276247121920/hi-ive-been-wanting-to-request-a-gyeong-su-x
18+, him introducing the salesman to you turned into a rough quickie on the couch https://allofuswantgwinam.tumblr.com/post/679943545314050048/gong-yoo-x-reader-warnings-18-smut-another
💻 Forget about every other reality TV show that’s part of your guilty pleasure watchlist. This Christmas time, there’s only one you will ever need to know about and get absolutely obsessed with. Red Lights—the perfect combination of your favourite concepts all in a cosy setting for winter. However, the contestants aren’t aware what they are signing up for and how they are already connected to each other before the start of it. [announced here on 27/05/23]
❗️[READ CAREFULLY] You, Y/N, are part of this year’s season, starring as the main character, surrounded by eight very different men that you have all met before. But it’ll need some time and decision making to find out who they are and to get closer to them. In order to decide how the story unfolds and what happens in following episodes, select an option for the poll after reading a chapter. Similar to a christmas calendar, a new episode will be added each day from 1st December until the big finale on 25th December 2023! [polls will be up for 24h and then the next part drops]
🛷 CONTENT INFO: skz ot8 x afab reader [not at the same time], reality/dating show AU, tropes will be revealed throughout the story, smut/fluff/angst, lots of discussion about the moral perspective of dating shows, it’s an alternative concept that tries to be less problematic/toxic, they are flawed characters and you should keep that in mind, content warning under the cut
📕 WORD COUNT: 90K+ [completed]
🎸 SPOTIFY PLAYLIST
CHAPTERS:
[1] — NOT SHY | [2] — LIMITLESS | [3] — BABY ONE MORE TIME | [4] — THANK YOU, NEXT | [5] — MOTIVE | [6] — SUPER SHY | [7] — SEVEN | [8] — COOKIE | [9] — BAD HABIT | [10] — AS IF IT’S YOUR LAST | [11] — ONLY GIRL | [12] — WRAP ME IN PLASTIC | [13] — SCREAM | [14] — HOW YOU LIKE THAT? | [15] — IF YOU SEEK AMY | [16] — JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | [17] — BAD ROMANCE | [18] — RUSH HOUR | [19] — MY SATISFACTION | [20] — WORK IT | [21] — NO DIGGITY | [22] — MANIAC | [23] — BITE ME | [24] — BALLROOM EXTRAVAGANZA | [25] — BLINDING LIGHTS
MORE CONTENT:
MEMES | INFO ABOUT RL CONCEPT | GENERAL [asks, announcements etc.]
🥀 CONTENT WARNING: alcohol consumption, cringe [yes that’s a warning, also this is a reality dating show ok], explicit sexual content, mention of breakup, unrequited love and jealousy [more might be added throughout the writing and publishing process]
❤️🔥 AUTHOR’S NOTE: lmk if you want to be added to the taglist because you plan to leave meaningful comments after reading! have a nice and cosy christmas time in case you celebrate it :)
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nsfw content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
