#kflixnet

he looks up. his eyes are warm, but serious. intense, even.

“you drive me insane,” he murmurs. “you leave the shower light on. you forget where your charger is every day. you sing off-key when you think i’m not listening.”

you breathe stops, and before you can muster up a sentence, he says again.

“and i love you like i’m sick with it.”

you feel like your stops, with blood rushing up to your cheeks you really don’t know if you can handle this anymore. his thumb brushes over your knee.

“and if you say dumb shit like that again,” he says, voice low, “i might have to marry you again, just to prove a point.”

you open your mouth, ready to sass him back, but he leans in before you can.

his hand finds your waist, warm and rough from hours of sanding wood. his other hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s mapping it out. like he missed it all day. like he needed this more than food or rest or sanity.

and then he kisses you. not a soft peck. not a tired brush of lips. it’s full. warm. deliberate.

his mouth slides against yours like he’s finally off the clock, like this is his reward — the only thing that makes the bruised knees and splinters and forgotten lunch worth it.

your fingers twist into his shirt instinctively. his thumb brushes down the side of your neck as his lips move against yours with something a little hungry, a little breathless, but still so stupidly in love.

you pull away for air, lips tingling, chest rising in soft, quick breaths. your fingers are still fisted in his shirt, and he looks up at you like you just knocked the wind out of him — which, to be fair, you did.

jay’s lips are red, a little kiss-swollen, and he’s breathing just as hard.

you blink, lips tingling. “so, i guess, you really do love me?”

“i love you when you talk too much,” he continues against your lips, grinning, “and when you ask dumb questions, like if i still love you.”

you let out a tiny gasp, equal parts amused and overwhelmed, and he pulls you even closer, your forehead pressed to his. your hands rest on his shoulders, thumbs brushing the slope of his neck.

“hey,” you whine softly, but he leans forward again and steals another kiss before you can complain further — short, warm, like a punctuation mark.

“i spend three hours building a closet,” he continues, kisses the corner of your mouth, “you sit here looking like a whole heart attack—” another kiss, this time near your chin, “—and then you ask—” kiss “—me—” kiss “—if i—” kiss “love you?” another kiss.

you laugh into his shoulder, hands slipping up into his hair, heart stopping “i just wanted to hear it.”

his lips curl, lazy and crooked. “you’re so annoying,” he mutters

your breath catches as he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing, full of love. “god,” he mutters, eyes still closed, “you drive me insane,” he chuckles again like a reminder.

“you like it,” you whisper, a chuckle falling on your lips.

he smiles, just a little. then, without letting go of you, he sinks to the floor.

kneels. infront of you.

his arms wrap around your waist, cheek pressing softly to your thigh. he exhales against the fabric of your shorts, like being close to you settles everything.

you run your fingers through his hair, slow. comforting. he hums under his breath, content and quiet, letting his body relax against your leg.

“this okay?” he sighs, his lips tickling your skin as he grins on it.

you nod, resting your hand on his cheek. “yeah,” you smile. “more than okay.”

his lashes flutter as he closes his eyes again.

and there you sit, a half-finished vanity in the corner, a husband with sawdust on his arms and love in every touch, and a kiss still tingling on your lips like a promise that never gets old.

your heartbeat is still racing a little. his breaths are slower now. calm. heavy.

“i love you,” he says eventually, voice muffled and slept against your thigh.

you smile. bend forward and kiss the top of his head, “i know. i love you more.”

스루 ܃ uploading this from my college library .. chem i hate you 😞 feedbacks are very much appreciated !

you always had a habit of running your thumb over things that were broken, as if gentle pressure could smooth out cracks that life had already set into place. 

sitting at your small kitchen island on a dreary tuesday night, you were tracing the fine spiderweb fracture near the top right corner of your phone screen, the quiet click-clack of your nail breaking the absolute silence of the room. the glass was slightly sharp, just enough to catch the pads of your fingers if you swiped at the wrong angle, but you didn’t care. you had earned every single cent in your bank account, paid your rent three days early every month, and held a quiet, fierce pride in the fact that you never replaced something until it was thoroughly, completely dead.

across the polished marble counter, james shifted, the soft rustle of his tailored charcoal shirt drawing your gaze up from the illuminated glass. his laptop was open, a sleek fountain pen resting loosely between two long, perfectly manicured fingers as he reviewed quarterly ledgers for his firm, but he wasn’t looking at the financial numbers anymore. his dark, quiet eyes were fixed entirely on your hand, watching the way your thumb hesitated over the cracked corner.

“it’s going to catch your skin eventually, pretty girl,” james remarked softly, his voice a low, grounded rumble that filled the quiet space between you.

“it’s fine, james,” you said without looking up, tapping a message icon with calculated precision. “it’s barely visible anyway. i’m going to get the glass replaced next month once my work project settles down.”

“or,” he said, closing his laptop with a quiet, decisive click that signaled the end of any business discussion, “i could just handle it right now.”

you lifted your head, narrowing your eyes in that defensive, guarded posture he had come to recognise over the months you had been together. “i don’t need a new phone, baby. i’m serious. it functions perfectly well.”

“i didn’t say you needed one,” he replied smoothly, standing up and smoothing down the front of his shirt with effortless grace.

he crossed the hardwood floor toward you, moving with a fluid, grounded presence that always seemed to make whatever room he was in feel instantly smaller, instantly warmer. leaning forward, he rested both of his broad hands on either side of your stool, trapping you in a subtle scent of dark cedar, crisp cotton, and high-end cologne.

you knew that look in his eyes, but before you could launch into your rehearsed speech about financial independence and unnecessary expenses, james reached into his inner jacket pocket and slid a slim, matte-black box across the smooth marble. it was heavy, factory-sealed in immaculate plastic, carrying the minimal logo of the newest flagship phone in the exact dark graphite shade you had casually pointed out in an ad three weeks prior.

you stared at the sharp edges of the box, then looked up into his steady, dark gaze. “james—absolutely not. push that right back into your pocket.”

“open it, yn,” he murmured.

“nope,” you said, pushing the box back across the counter toward him. “this is a ridiculously expensive piece of technology. my current phone is only two years old, and i’m fully capable of managing my own devices.”

james didn’t move the box back. instead, his long fingers reached out, closing gently around your wrist. his thumb began to trace slow, soothing circles over your pulse point, feeling the rapid, defensive beat beneath your skin.

“look at me, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice dipping into that impossibly patient cadence he reserved entirely for you.

you met his eyes, exhaling a frustrated breath. “i am looking at you. and i’m telling you no.”

“i know you can buy your own phone,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “i know you have a healthy savings account. i know you pay your bills on time, and i know you don’t need me to purchase a single thing for you. your independence is one of the million things i adore about you, my love. it isn’t a challenge to my ego, and it isn’t something i ever want to break. it’s simply who you are.” he lifted your hand, pressing a brief, lingering kiss against the back of your knuckles. “but this?” he continued, glancing down at the box before bringing his dark eyes back to yours. “this isn’t an obligation. it isn’t a power move, and it isn’t an attempt to show off. i saw a jagged piece of broken glass under the thumb of the woman i love. buying you a phone that doesn’t risk cutting your skin when you text me isn’t some grand, heroic gesture. to me, it’s basic. it’s the absolute bare minimum i should be doing as your boyfriend.”

“a brand-new, top-of-the-line device isn’t the bare minimum, james,” you countered, though your tone had softened under his touch. “it’s entirely excessive for a minor crack.”

a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “to you, maybe. but to me, ensuring that the person i love has a working phone, a safe car, and a warm coat in the middle of winter is baseline care. it’s entry-level stuff. and besides, i already had your sim card cloned and transferred at the store earlier this afternoon. all your data is already synced and waiting.”

you let out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head as you looked at the dark box sitting between your hands. “you’re absurd. you know that, right?”

“i’m attentive,” he corrected smoothly, a subtle glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “there’s a massive difference. now open it. and if you even attempt to transfer money into my checking account to offset the cost, i will simply route it straight back into a high-yield savings fund set up under your name anyway.”

“you wouldn’t dare,” you murmured, though you were already breaking the seal on the box, knowing full well he would dare, actually.

“try me,” he replied with a low, quiet chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss against the crown of your head as you lifted the sleek device out of its casing.

you couldn’t even stay mad at him—not when he handled your stubborn pride with such gentle, unyielding patience. you unwrapped the plastic, the fresh smell of factory-new electronics filling the air, and as you transferred your phone case over, you tried to ignore the way your heart swelled at how seamlessly he anticipated your needs before you even acknowledged them yourself.

iphone kupi (‘buy me an iphone’)... ☆

by the time friday evening rolled around, the city had dissolved into a slick, rain-soaked expanse of neon lights reflecting off wet asphalt. the weather was miserable, but inside the low, purring interior of james’ vehicle, the storm outside felt like a distant memory. 

james didn’t just drive any car; he had a deep, almost understated passion for fine engineering, and tonight he had picked you up in his custom porsche 911 gt3 touring. it was an absolute beast of a machine, finished in a deep, brooding shade of jet black metallic that seemed to swallow the city lights, its dark silver center-locking wheels gleaming beneath the streetlamps. inside, the cabin was a masterclass in quiet luxury—smelling of rich leather, dark suede, and the faint, warm ozone of a high-performance engine humming quietly beneath the frame.

you leaned your head back against your seat, feeling the subtle rumble of the engine vibrating through the floorboards as james navigated the rain-slicked streets with effortless, practiced precision. his right hand rested casually at three o’clock on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, while his left hand rested on the gear shift, his thumb occasionally brushing against your knee whenever he brought the low-slung car to a smooth halt at a red light.

“you like the noise this one makes, don’t you?” james asked softly, glancing over at you with a slight curve on his lips as the exhaust notes echoed off the concrete tunnel walls.

“it’s terrifyingly smooth,” you admitted, turning your head to look at his profile. “you drive like you’re on a track even in gridlock traffic.”

“it’s called control, pretty girl,” he murmured, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the gear shift before he stepped gently on the throttle. the engine let out a deep, intoxicating rasp that sent a faint shiver down your spine, accelerating seamlessly through the wet lane.

there was something undeniably magnetic about the contrast between his calm, polished demeanor and the raw, aggressive power of the vehicle he commanded so easily. he pulled the sleek sports car up to the curb of an intimate, dimly lit restaurant tucked away in the quieter cobblestone corners of the district. the valet immediately stepped out with a massive umbrella, opening your door with practiced deference.

“careful with the step,” james warned gently, stepping out from his side and meeting you under the awning before handing the valet his keys without a second thought. “keep it parked right out front under the cover, please,” he told the valet in a quiet, firm tone, slipping a heavy bill into the man’s hand.

“right away, sir,” the valet replied quickly.

inside, the restaurant smelled of woodsmoke, roasted herbs, and expensive wine. the hostess led you both past glowing ambient candleholders to a plush, dark velvet booth nestled near a quiet stone fireplace. james slid in right beside you instead of sitting across the table, his long arm extending naturally along the back of the velvet bench behind your shoulders, bringing his warm, familiar weight right against your side.

“how bad was the office today?” he asked softly, his dark eyes reading every subtle line of fatigue on your face as you leaned back into his chest.

“it was an absolute nightmare,” you admitted, closing your eyes for a brief second as his fingers began to gently massage the back of your neck. “endless fires to put out, three missed deadlines from the junior team, and my brain feels like mush. but i’m fine now.”

“you’re exhausted, sweetheart,” he corrected gently.

without needing to consult you on the tedious details, james signaled the sommelier with a brief nod. “we’ll take a bottle of the twenty-six sauvignon blanc,” he told the waiter smoothly. “and bring out the seared scallops and the truffle crostini to start, please.”

“you remembered what i like after a bad day,” you murmured, looking up at him as the sommelier bowed slightly and walked away.

“of course i remembered,” james said, resting his chin lightly against your temple. “i pay attention, y’know.”

you loved dining out, but as the incredible meal progressed and the empty plates were cleared away by attentive waitstaff, that lingering sense of self-reliance began to prickle at the back of your mind again. you had made a point early on in your relationship that you wanted an equal partnership. you hated the idea of feeling like a financial burden or acting like someone who expected to be catered to, and as the quiet waiter finally approached the table to lay a dark leather folder down, your hand instinctively dipped toward the zipper of your leather bag.

“let me cover the tip at least, james,” you said, pulling out your card. “or let’s split the total bill down the middle. you paid for lunch on wednesday.”

james’ hand moved with lightning speed, sliding firmly over yours before your fingers could even pull your card free. his touch was warm, solid, and entirely unyielding.

“put that back in your bag, yn,” he said softly, his tone carrying that quiet, absolute authority that left zero room for negotiation.

“james, come on,” you whispered, leaning in closer so the surrounding tables wouldn’t overhear your back-and-forth. “i work hard. i earn my own money, and i genuinely dislike the feeling of being paid for constantly. it makes me feel bad, like i’m not pulling my weight.”

james didn’t pull his hand back. instead, he pulled a heavy, matte-black card from his coat, slid it into the leather folder without even glancing down at the itemised receipt, and handed it back to the waiter with a quiet, polite nod.

“thank you, sir,” the waiter murmured, sliding away into the dim light of the dining room.

once the staff member glided away, james shifted his weight in the booth, turning his torso so he was facing you directly, his knees framing yours beneath the white tablecloth.

“do you truly believe you’re a charity case in my eyes, yn?” he asked gently, his eyes searching yours.

“it’s not that,” you murmured, looking down at your fingers. “i just need equality in our relationship. i never want you to entertain the thought that i’m with you for the places you can take me or the money you spend, you know?”

james looked at you then, his expression stripping away any lingering playfulness, replaced by a deep, unwavering sincerity that made your throat feel dry. he picked up both of your hands, lacing his long fingers through yours over the soft linen.

“if i believed, for a single second, that you were with me for my wealth, my love,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady, “we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. you fight me on every single check. you try to pay for your own morning coffees. you constantly try to split tabs down to the exact cent when we order late-night takeout. i know exactly who you are. you’re the woman who would happily sit on a cold park bench eating three thousand-won street food with me as long as we were together.” he squeezed your fingers, his dark gaze holding yours captive. “so hear me when i say this,” he continued softly. “paying for dinner when i take my girlfriend out on a friday night isn’t a flex. it isn’t an obligation, and it certainly isn’t an attempt to buy your affection. it is, as i’ve said before, the baseline standard of taking care of someone you’re utterly devoted to. if a man takes you out, he pays. period. that’s basic etiquette to me, which i learnt by looking at my dad taking out my mum. yn, you don’t owe me a single thing for this—not a formal thank you, not a return favor, nothing. it’s my absolute pleasure, and i do it because i want to make your life effortless after a long, grueling week.”

you bit your lip, feeling the sharp, defensive edge of your independence melt away under the quiet warmth of his reasoning. “you really consider a high-end, multi-course meal in the city to be the bare minimum?”

james tilted his head, a smooth, devastating smile breaking across his features as his thumb stroked the back of your hand. “for you? bringing you good food, keeping you comfortable, and picking up the tab is entry-level boyfriend behavior, sweetheart. if i could hand you the moon on a silver platter, i would still feel like i was slacking off.”

restoran oplati (‘pay for the restaurant’)... ☆

a week later, the autumn air had grown crisp and biting, scattering golden leaves across the wet concrete sidewalks. you had spent the afternoon running errands, dressed in an oversized, heavy grey knit sweater that belonged to james, the sleeves overlapping your hands so that only your fingertips peeked through. you were standing in the quiet alcove of a boutique shoe store downtown, picking up a pair of simple leather flats you had ordered online weeks ago.

james was standing near the entrance, leaning casually against a polished display case as he waited for you. he looked effortlessly striking in a dark tailored overcoat, his silver watch gleaming softly under the boutique’s track lighting. even just standing there, resting one hand in his pocket while he checked a brief email on his phone, he carried an air of calm, unbothered command that naturally drew people’s eyes.

as the clerk walked back out from the stockroom with your basic flats, james happened to look up, his eyes casually scanning the curated shelves behind the counter. his gaze caught on a pair of heels resting on an illuminated pedestal—a breathtaking pair of sculpted designer heels, crafted from buttery dark slate-grey silk with delicate, shimmering silver hardware detailing that caught the light like liquid moonlight. they were artistic, sophisticated, and undeniably exquisite, the kind of shoes designed for private galas or high-end evening events.

you noticed him looking and followed his line of sight, catching a glance at the silver detailing before checking the tiny designer label beneath them.

you let out a low, breathy laugh at the sheer number of zeroes on the price tag and leaned closer to him. “those are ridiculous,” you murmured under your breath as the clerk handed you your boxed flats. “gorgeous, but completely absurd for real life.”

james didn’t say a word right away. he simply pocketed his phone, walked smoothly over to the counter, and motioned quietly to the sales associate.

“could we see those slate silk heels in a size eight, please?” james asked calmly, his tone so light he might as well have been asking for a glass of tap water.

you immediately whipped your head around, your eyes wide as you grabbed his forearm through his heavy coat. “james, no!” you hissed quietly, pulling him back a step. “what are you doing? i came in here for forty thousand-won flats. i don’t need five-inch silk designer heels, and i certainly don’t have anywhere to wear them to.”

james didn’t look bothered in the slightest by your subtle panic. he looked down at your hand on his arm, a soft, indulgent smile curving his lips. “just let her bring them out so you can check the fit, yn.”

“i don’t need to check the fit,” you argued softly. “they cost more than my first car’s entire transmission!”

when the associate returned and set the silk heels down on the velvet rug, james casually dropped to one knee in front of you on the store floor. he didn’t care that the sales staff was watching or that people were passing by the glass storefront outside. he simply extended his hand, waiting patiently for you to slide your foot out of your casual shoe.

“james, please,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks warm up under the boutique’s bright lights. “this is crazy. get up—”

“just try them on, sweetheart. humour me,” he murmured, his voice smooth and steady as his long fingers wrapped gently around your ankle, lifting your foot to guide it into the silk shoe.

the moment your foot slid inside, the shoe fit like it had been custom-molded to your arch. the silver hardware gleamed softly against your skin, matching the quiet, understated silver rings you always wore on your hands. you looked down, unable to deny how stunningly beautiful they were, how they made your legs look long and elegant even beneath your oversized sweater.

“see?” james said softly, looking up at you from his spot on the floor. “absolute perfection.”

“they’re far too expensive, james,” you argued softly, shaking your head as you looked down at him. “i can’t possibly let you buy me something that extravagant for no reason at all. it’s not like i’m attending an award show.”

he stood up smoothly, dusting off his trousers before taking the boutique’s credit card reader from the associate without missing a beat.

“we’ll take them,” he told the clerk, tapping his black card against the machine and settling the absurd total before you could even process the transaction. “and pack up her old flats into the bag, please. she’s wearing these out.”

“right away, sir,” the clerk smiled.

james turned back to you, stepping close enough that his coat brushed against your sweater. he held your waist gently, looking down into your conflicted eyes.

“james, seriously—” you started.

“buying my girl a pair of shoes that makes her feel breathtaking isn’t merely an indulgence, yn,” he interrupted gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your hip through the thick sweater. “i didn’t buy them so you could hide them in a closet for a special occasion. i bought them because i saw something beautiful, knew it belonged on you, and wanted you to have the absolute best beneath your feet whenever you walk anywhere with me.”

“i don’t need designer shoes to walk with you,” you whispered.

“i know you don’t,” james replied softly, leaning down to press his lips against yours for a brief, sweet moment. “but making sure you feel adored, elevated, and pampered from head to toe is basic. if i can’t put you in stunning shoes, i’m not doing my job as your boyfriend properly.”

you let out a quiet sigh, looking down at the gleaming silver detailing on your toes, completely helpless against the relentless tide of his affection. “you’re utterly ruined.”

he simply kissed your forehead, whispering back, “i’m perfectly fine with that, as long as you’re the one ruining me.”

the rain returned two sundays later, a heavy, grey downpour that turned the city outside james’ high-rise penthouse into a blurred watercolor painting. the apartment was silent save for the soft, ambient hum of music floating through the hidden ceiling speakers and the rhythmic patter of water against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

you were curled up on the edge of his deep charcoal leather sofa, your feet tucked beneath a heavy silver-grey knit throw blanket as you turned a page of your book. james was sitting nearby, a dark ceramic mug of coffee resting on the low table in front of him. he was pretending to scroll through news updates on his tablet, but in reality, he spent far more time watching the calm, relaxed expression on your face than reading any headlines.

without any warning, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small, heavy velvet box, and tossed it gently onto the throw blanket near your knee.

you blinked, pausing your reading to look at the box, then lifted your eyes to glare at him with mild suspicion. “what is this?”

“it’s a box,” he replied with total deadpan ease, lifting his mug to take a slow sip of black coffee.

“james…” you dragged out his name, raising an eyebrow high. “is today an anniversary i somehow managed to forget? is it a secret holiday? is it my birthday?”

“no, no, and no,” he answered smoothly, setting his coffee back down on the glass tabletop.

“then why are you handing me a jewelry box on a random sunday afternoon?”

“because it’s sunday,” he said, as if that simple fact explained the entire mechanics of the universe. “and because i felt like giving it to you.”

you picked up the velvet box, holding it delicately between your fingertips. “james, we talked about this. we established ground rules about spontaneous, unnecessary spending. you don’t need to keep giving me things just because the sky is blue outside.”

“open it before you start your formal lecture,” he requested calmly. “do it for my own peace of mind.”

rolling your eyes with a quiet laugh, you popped open the spring lid of the velvet box. nestled inside against a dark satin cushion was a heavy, exquisitely crafted band of solid sterling silver. you had always preferred silver over gold—you loved its cool, understated elegance, the way it shimmered softly without being loud or ostentatious. james shared that exact same taste, his own watch and cufflinks always featuring polished silver accents.

the ring in the box was sleek, heavy, and timeless. but as you lifted it out of its velvet bed to examine it closer in the dim light of the room, you caught the delicate script engraved along the smooth inner curve of the metal.

you brought it right up to your eyes, reading the fine inscription. etched into the polished silver was your full name in elegant, precise lettering, followed by a set of fine coordinate points—the exact latitude and longitude of the quiet coastal overlook where the two of you had parked his car and talked for five hours straight on your very first real date.

your breath hitched slightly, a quiet lump forming in your throat. the sheer depth of thought embedded in the small band of metal hit you square in the chest, instantly wiping away any sarcastic remarks or arguments about price.

“james…” you swallowed hard, tracing the smooth, cool inner script with the tip of your thumb. “it’s gorgeous.”

he stood up from his chair, walking over to sit on the edge of the sofa right beside your legs. he reached out, taking the ring gently from your fingers, his other hand sliding beneath your knees to pull your legs into his lap so you were facing him completely.

“give me your hand, pretty girl,” he murmured softly.

you extended your right hand, watching in silence as he carefully slid the cool silver band onto your middle finger. it fit with absolute precision, settling against your skin as if it had been meant to live there forever, matching the other silver rings you already wore every day.

“why?” you asked softly, looking up into his dark, warm eyes. “why give me custom-engraved silver on an ordinary, lazy sunday?”

james brought your hand up to his mouth, resting his warm lips against the newly placed silver ring for a long, quiet moment. when he looked up, his expression carried an intense, protective softness that made your pulse jump. “because you wear your independence and your pride like heavy armor,” he said quietly, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “i wanted you to have something solid, something real and cool against your skin, that serves as a constant reminder that you belong to someone who cherishes you, even when we’re doing nothing more than sitting on a sofa watching the rain.”

“custom silver jewelry for no reason isn’t normal behavior, pewtty boy,” you whispered, though a soft, affectionate smile was tugging at your lips.

“who said anything about normal?” he countered softly, leaning forward until his chest was lightly resting against your knees. he reached up, his hand cupping the side of your neck, his thumb resting gently against your jawline, feeling the soft warmth of your skin. “listen to me closely, yn,” he murmured. “a custom silver band with your name on it, given simply because i thought of you while driving past an artisan shop downtown, is basic. it’s step one. giving a gift to the woman you love just to see her smile on an unmemorable afternoon is the absolute bare minimum expected of any man who claims to hold her heart.”

“you keep using that phrase—’bare minimum’,” you said to him softly, sliding your fingers into his soft hair. “i don’t think you truly understand what the it actually means for normal people, baby.”

“it means whatever standard i choose to set for how you deserve to be treated,” he replied without a single second of hesitation. his hand shifted, his fingers sliding up into the dark waves of your hair to pull you gently closer. “you spend so much of your life taking care of every single detail yourself,” he continued, his voice dropping into a tender murmur against your skin. “your job, your apartment, your responsibilities. you’re so fiercely determined never to be a burden to anyone around you. so let me burden you instead. let me pamper you. not because you ‘can’t’ buy your own silver, but because i demand to be the man who puts it on your fingers.”

he leaned in, pressing a slow, deep kiss to your lips that tasted of dark coffee and warmth, lingering against you until your arms naturally found their way around his broad shoulders, pulling his frame down against yours.

when he finally pulled back, his dark eyes were shining with an affection so heavy it made your breath catch.

“now,” he murmured against your cheek, “are you going to keep fighting me on every detail, or are you going to let me make you late lunch?”

“i’ll only agree if you let me stand in the kitchen and help you cook,” you negotiated weakly.

james chuckled softly, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he stood up, lifting you effortlessly off the sofa with him. “that’s an acceptable compromise, sweetheart.”

bez povoda mne podari, kol’tso s moim imenem (‘give me, for no reason, a ring with my name on it’)... ☆

the following month, the late-autumn weather reached its breaking point, unleashing a severe, relentless storm over the city. the sky turned a dark, bruised shade of slate grey, pouring sheets of torrential rain that flooded the lower intersections and brought city traffic to an absolute, gridlocked standstill.

it was the kind of day where everything that could go wrong did. your day at work had been an absolute nightmare of tight deadlines, but the real disaster struck when you walked out to the parking garage at seven in the evening. you turned your key in the ignition, only to hear a hollow, metallic clicking sound before your dashboard lights flickered once and died completely. your alternator had chosen the worst possible evening to completely collapse.

you spent the next forty-five minutes sitting in the damp, freezing interior of your dead car, trying to call roadside assistance while the rain hammered against your windshield like gravel. the tow company gave you a two-hour wait time, your phone battery was draining rapidly, and by the time you finally managed to get a rideshare back to your apartment building, your clothes were damp, your shoes were soaked through, and your shoulders were locked tight with pure, unadulterated physical and mental exhaustion.

you dragged yourself up the stairs to your floor, your wet key fumbling against the lock before you finally managed to push your apartment door open.

you expected a dark, cold flat. instead, you were instantly hit by a wave of lingering heat and the rich, mouth-watering aroma of roasted garlic, fresh herbs, and simmered broth filling your hallway.

standing in your small, modest kitchen, his shirt sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows to reveal his stupidly beautiful forearms, was james. he was calmly stirring a simmering pot on your stove, looking entirely at home despite the sharp contrast between your humble kitchen and his expansive penthouse.

you stood frozen in the doorway, your dripping umbrella hanging loosely in your hand as you stared at him. “james? what… how did you even get inside?”

he set his wooden spoon down on a rest, taking three long strides across the hardwood to take the dripping umbrella from your cold fingers and set it in the corner. without saying a single word, he unbuttoned your wet coat, peeling the heavy material off your shivering shoulders and hanging it up by the door. then he took both of your freezing hands into his warm ones, bringing them up to his mouth to breathe hot air over your pale knuckles.

“your landlord knows me well enough by now,” he explained quietly. “and your tow truck driver called me directly when he picked up your car.”

you blinked, completely bewildered through your haze of exhaustion. “wait… why on earth would a tow truck driver call you about my car?”

he offered a calm, unbothered explanation, admitting casually, “i placed a discreet tracking tag on your main key fob three months ago for safety and emergency situations. when your vehicle remained completely stationary in your office lot past seven o’clock with the hood popping an engine error on my tracking display, i got an automated ping on my phone.”

“you tracked my car?” you asked softly, almost laughing.

“i monitored a potential hazard,” he corrected smoothly. “i stepped in immediately, called my personal mechanic, arranged a flatbed transport, and settled the entire repair bill upfront with the garage owner. they’re replacing the alternator, swapping out the dead battery, and completing a full brake inspection. the car will be delivered back to your assigned parking spot by tomorrow afternoon, and i’ll drop you off at work tomorrow morning.”

you stood there in the middle of your warm hallway, completely stunned into silence. you had spent the last two hours stressing about how much a sudden alternator repair was going to hurt your monthly budget, how you were going to navigate commuting without a car, and whether the mechanics would try to take advantage of your lack of auto expertise.

and in the span of an hour, james had silently, invisibly erased every single one of those problems before you had even set foot inside your front door.

“james…” you started again, your stubborn pride raising its head even through your bone-deep tiredness. “an alternator repair costs well over a million won. i have an emergency savings fund specifically built for situations like this. you can’t just cover massive automotive bills for me!”

he stepped closer, taking your face gently between both of his broad, warm hands. his thumbs brushed over your damp cheekbones, wiping away stray drops of rain with delicate precision.

“stop talking, pretty girl,” he said softly.

“i’m fully capable of paying my own mechanic,” you whispered, looking up into his eyes. “you don’t need to step in and fix an obstacle in my life the second things go sideways.”

he looked down at you, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a fierce, unwavering intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“baby, i’ll say this however many times it takes to fully convince you: i’m not fixing your life because i believe you’re helpless or incompetent,” he said firmly. “i know with full certainty that you could have called your own tow truck, paid the garage out of your savings, and managed the inconvenience entirely on your own strength. you’re brilliant, resilient, and fiercely independent.” he leaned his head down, resting his forehead directly against yours, his warm breath fanning across your lips. “but what’s the point of me having resources, influence, and capability,” he murmured, “if i don’t use them to clear the path for the woman i love when she’s exhausted? letting you freeze in the rain while you drain your hard-earned savings on an unexpected car failure isn’t something i will ever allow.”

you closed your eyes, leaning your weight into his touch. “it feels like too much,” you confessed softly. “it makes me feel bad… how much you do for me.”

“it isn’t too much, i promise, sweetheart,” he said, his lips pressing a warm kiss against the bridge of your nose. “taking care of logistics when your girlfriend is stranded in a storm is standard human decency. taking care of a million-won repair so you don’t have to stress about money after a brutal workday is the absolute bare minimum expected of any man standing in my position.”

he guided you toward the heated bathroom, where he had already turned on the hot shower, steaming up the glass enclosure and filling the space with warm, soothing vapour. he smoothed your damp hair back from your forehead.

“now,” he said firmly, “get under the hot water. get warm, and change into the dry clothes i brought over from my place that are waiting on your bed. you’re not allowed to think about a single bill, a single mechanical issue, or a single work stress for the remainder of the night. do you understand me?”

you looked up at him—this breathtakingly handsome, fiercely loyal man who treated massive acts of financial and emotional rescue as if they were simple, everyday courtesies—and felt the very last brick of your stubborn, self-reliant wall crumble into dust.

“okay,” you offered softly, a genuine, relieved smile finally breaking across your tired face. “yeah, okay.”

“good girl,” he murmured, pressing a quiet, lingering kiss against your temple before stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him to give you quiet space.

an hour later, the heavy rain continued to hammer relentlessly against your bedroom window pane. the room was bathed in the warm, quiet glow of a single bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the cozy space.

you were sitting between james’ long legs as he leaned back against your headboard, your back pressed comfortably against his broad chest. he was slowly twirling the silver band on your finger, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as you both relaxed in the quiet dark of the room.

“james?” you called his name softly, tilting your head back against his collarbone.

“hmm?” he hummed in response, his arm tightening around your waist, his thumb tracing smooth patterns against the knit of your sweater.

“do you truly, genuinely believe everything you say?” you asked softly. “that the phone, the dinners, the heels, the custom silver, and handling my car repairs are all just the ‘bare minimum’?”

he went still for a long moment, his chest expanding against your back as he took a deep, deliberate breath. “i believe,” he said quietly, “that the world treats independent women with an unfair amount of coldness. people expect you to carry every heavy burden entirely by yourself simply because you’re capable of doing so. they see a woman who is strong, competent, and self-sufficient, and they assume she doesn’t need pampering, doesn’t need protection, and doesn’t need someone to step in and make her life easier once in a while.” he turned his head slightly, pressing a soft, warm kiss against the curve of your neck. “i know you don’t need me to survive, my love,” he continued, his voice low and steady. “you were thriving long before i walked into your life, and you will continue to thrive no matter what. but as long as you choose to give me your heart, my job isn’t just to watch you handle everything alone. my job is to give you a safe place to lay your burden down. to take the weight off your shoulders when you’re tired, and to give you beautiful things simply because seeing you smile is the best part of my day.” he lifted your left hand, catching the soft glow of the engraved silver ring in the dim light of the bedroom. “buying you a working phone when yours is broken, paying for dinner when i take you out, sliding designer shoes onto your feet, giving you engraved silver for no reason, and fixing your car before you can stress about it—that isn’t extraordinary love, yn,” james whispered, his voice rich and deep in the quiet dark. “that’s the bare minimum. that’s the standard entry fee for the immense privilege of being allowed to love you.”

you turned around in his lap, shifting so you could sit cross-legged facing him, cupping his jaw with both of your hands, your silver ring resting cool against his cheek. “you’re setting the bar dangerously high for anyone else in the world, pretty boy,” you told him softly.

james leaned into the touch of your hands, a slow, devastatingly beautiful smile breaking across his features as he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“good,” he whispered against your lips, his dark eyes shining with pure, unyielding devotion. “because you deserve nothing less than the absolute highest standard imaginable. and as long as you belong to me, sweetheart, i’m only just getting started.”

bazovyy minimum (‘basic minimum’)... ☆

© hyuneskkami ❦

some hms for alternate banner icons i had the HARDEST time choosing between 😁💞:

seated in his cramped backseat, your thoughts are entirely consumed by the feeling of his cock buried deep in the slick on your cunt. your skirt is bunched at your waist, your top pulled down to expose your breasts, knees digging into the seat. everything is hot and sticky, with steam fogging the windows and sweat layering your feverish skin and, normally, this would be enough to drive you insane. but right now, you're too far gone, only able to focus on feeling of pleasure overwhelming all your senses.

"c-chan—" you can barely say his name. your words catch in your throat, pitched and wobbly as his hips piston upwards, thick cock plunging into your sopping pussy with a loud plap plap plap that resonates in the heated space. your body jolts with the force of each thrust.

you dig your nails into the leather seat of his car, right beside his head. "b-baby, slow down—"

"fuck, i can't, sweetheart," he huffs hotly against the shell of your ear, practically breathless as he keeps his brutal pace. his hands grip the supple flesh of your ass, giving you a bruising squeeze. "you feel too good."

you whine, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. "you're so deep. i—hnghh—i can't, chan... s'too much..."

"nuh-uh," he clicks his tongue as if chiding you. "none of that. you know how to take this cock, i know you do."

you do know. but when chan gets like this, drunk on sex and high on pleasure, it makes your head spin and your thoughts blur until all you can feel is him — on you and inside you and it has your nerves so fried that you're not sure if you want to push him away or pull him closer. clearly, you have yet to push him away, despite the harshness of his thrusts.

"fuuuck," he groans, voice rough, accent thick. "you're drenched, jus' dripping down my cock like fuckin' water. can feel it on my balls."

you press your face against his neck, embarrassment burning hot across your chest and up along your neck.

"s'your fault." you mumble. "lookin' like that tonight."

his hand comes down on your ass, hard and fast, and you cry out against his flushed skin as he soothes over the blossoming ache. he can be mean, but never too mean. "my fault? this pussy was practically beggin' f'me before i even touched you."

in your defense, he had looked unfairly good. he'd picked you up that evening wearing a loose hoodie and grey sweats, a type of casual and effortless outfit that shouldn't have looked as good as it did. you'd nearly fainted when he peeled it off later that evening, when the thrum of packed bodies had generated too much heat for him to handle. and then there he was, white tank spread taut over his broad shoulders, his muscles visibly defined beneath the fabric which tapered down to fit his slim waist. every movement caused the hem to lift, revealing a sliver of smooth skin above his waistband that you stared at appreciatively. not to mention, the almost noticeable outline of his soft cock pressing against his sweats, hanging freely and heavily.

you'd struggled to keep your composure the entire time, mind blank as your eyes constantly moved from his groin to his shoulders to his biceps and back again. each time you repeated the seemingly never-ending, but not unwelcome, cycle, your underwear grew evermore slick with arousal. chan as observant as he is, hadn't missed a thing. his sharp eyes caught onto your subtle attempts to relieve the ache between your thighs, and he was thoroughly amused by your flustered response to simply his very being.

now he's got you here, after a torturously long, tension-filled night of knowing grins and suggestive touches, he's finally caved and taken you for everything you have.

"m'close," he pants, breath warm. "m'gonna cum in this pussy. gonna—a-ah shit—m'gonna fill you up a-and fuck it into you, nice and deep.

you don't get time to fully digest his filthy words. chan slides further down the seat, planting his feet and wrapping his arms firmly around your middle to lock you in place. any response you had dies on your tongue, and you swear you see stars burst across your vision.

this new angle has the fat tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot with ruthless precision. his balls smack heavily against your puffy clit, causing cosmic sparks to shoot down your spine.

you gasp, hands flying to grip his blonde hair, your shaky thighs pressing against him on either side. your pussy clenches around his glistening length. "o-oh, fuck!"

"there she is." chan grunts, pleased with himself, and nuzzles his nose along the underside of your jaw. he kisses his way down your neck, over the bruises beginning to blossom along your slick skin, until his lips are at your breasts. you mewl when he takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling on the already sensitive nub.

your fingers tug painfully on his blonde hair, pulling a deep chested groan from him. the action no doubt hurts, but you'll apologize later, when he's not busy fucking you like he hates you.

"don't stop," you plead, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes in a hot trail. you can feel that familiar band of tension in your abdomen, tightening with alarming speed.

chan releases your nipple with a satisfied, wet pop. he smooths a rough palm up along your spine until he grips the back of your neck and turns your face to meet his.

"come on," he murmurs encouragingly, hips losing it's steady pace. "come on baby, let me feel you, all of you. wanna feel you cumming around this dick, let go for me."

you tremble in his embrace, hands slipping from his damp hair, but you manage to find a grip on his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into his muscles as you cry out, that taut band snapping under his guidance. you clench, hard, and he hisses against your parted lips. his hips stutter, thrusts weak and sloppy, until he uses the last of his strength to bury himself balls deep, strong thighs flush against yours. he cums in seconds, cock throbbing as a deliciously familiar warmth splatters across your inner walls.

you go practically limp in his arms, slumping forward onto his warm, bare chest, no longer gripping onto his shoulders (or his cock) like your life depends on it.

the sounds of the frat party occupy the silence between you and chan; all wordless songs and muffled cheers. you focus on taking deep breaths to clear your mind and calm your rapidly beating heart. chan's hands rub firmly along your back; from your shoulders, down the sloping curves of your body and back up, a rhythmic motion that helps ground you to reality.

you hum weakly, taking a moment to relocate your voice. "that—that was..."

"yeah, i know," chan soothes his hands back down and over your ass, now tender and surely bruised from his earlier antics. "fuck, i seriously love you."

you manage a breathless laugh, though it sounds more like a wheeze. "that's the post-nut clarity talking, babe."

you can feel his grin against your hairline. "whatever, i still love you."

you snort, amused, and adjust your position, laying your cheek against his chest where you can faintly hear his heart beating beneath his ribcage, fast but steady.

you let it settle before you speak. "i can't believe you weren't wearing underwear."

"no one else noticed but you," his chest rumbles with laughter.

you ignore his comment, too mortified at how easily he can read you. "you did that on purpose."

"maybe," he hums cheekily. "but surely the outcome was worth?"

"maybe," you echo.

chan pinches your side lovingly and you squirm, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"brat," he mutters, though his lips find your forehead for a tender kiss.

you let yourself sink further into his warmth, allowing time to stretch on. eventually, you feel your eyes drooping, a wave of exhaustion washing over your body and pulling at your bones. you grow heavy in chan's arms.

"baby..." he murmurs, he shifts his weight, and you feel him twitching inside you. your brows briefly pinch together at the feeling, then you settle back in, oblivious to his restlessness.

chan tightens his arms around you, and you don't think much of it, until he rolls his hips experimentally and you feel him graze against your sensitive spot with an embarrassingly audible squelch.

"chan..." you whimper, eyes snapping open and body instinctively jolting as your pleasure spikes into slightly painful, though no less enjoyable, territory.

"what?" you can hear his smirk. "i told you i was gonna fuck this cum into you."

"i-i didn't think you—ngh—that you were serious..." you bring your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers into the curls at the base of his skull, and lift your face to meet his. his plump lips are tugged up into a devious grin.

"i was more than serious, baby." he smoothes his hands under your thighs, helping you lift and drop your hips to meet his thrusts halfway. your breath hitches in your throat, fatigue fading into pleasure.

"come on, sweetheart, time for you to put in a little work, hm?"

you’re padding around his apartment in one of his shirts, your hair still damp from the shower, humming to yourself. he leans against the doorway, watching with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “you know,” he says, “you’re getting awfully comfortable in my clothes.” you turn, raising a brow. “is that a problem?” he chuckles. “no. i’m just wondering when you’re moving in.” you blink up at him, half-smiling. “oh, is that an invitation?” he nods, stepping closer. “it’s more of an observation. because at this rate, half my wardrobe will already be in your closet.” you laugh, and he slips his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “i’m serious,” he whispers. “i like seeing you here. like this, like you belong.” you turn in his arms, hand resting against his chest. “you mean wearing your shirts and stealing your space?” he grins. “exactly that.” he presses a kiss to your hair and adds cheekily, “my space would feel so empty without you, little thief.”

↬ CHANGBIN

the first time he sees you in his shirt, he goes still. his world narrows to the sight of you standing by the window, sunlight catching in your hair, fabric draping loosely over your shoulders. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come. he just looks. you tease him, waving a hand in front of his face. “you okay?” he blinks out of his daze then smiles faintly. “you look…” he stops, shaking his head. “no. there isn’t a word for it.” he steps closer, reaching his hand out to touch you. his fingers brush the collar of the shirt, tracing where the fabric meets your skin. “it’s strange,” he says softly. “i wore this yesterday, and it was just a shirt. but on you…” you laugh, and he smiles at the sound. later, when you leave it folded by his bedside, he sits there for a long time staring at it—thinking of how it looked on you, of how something ordinary became extraordinary just because it touched you.

↬ HYUNJIN

he’s sitting on the couch reading when he hears you call his name. when he looks up, his book slips from his hand. you’re standing there in his shirt, sleeves rolled, collar slightly crooked. he stands without thinking, smoothing his hair, as if he needs to be composed for this moment. “you borrowed that?” he asks, and his tone is calm, but his eyes are bright with something softer. you nod, unsure if he likes it. he crosses the room slowly, stopping just short of you. “you’re too precious in it,” he says quietly, fingers brushing your wrist. he hesitates, then smiles faintly. “you know, i spend so much time trying to keep everything perfect. but you—” he gestures to you in the shirt, loose and unbuttoned at the cuffs, hair slightly messy—“you make everything perfect.” you laugh, flustered, and he looks down with a fond smile. “keep it,” he murmurs. “i’ll just have to buy more.” later, when you fall asleep still wearing it, he hugs you tightly to him, adoring your frame rising and falling in sweet, quiet perfection.

↬ JISUNG

he notices immediately. you’re curled up in his hoodie, the one you swore you didn’t take. he crosses his arms and pretends to be stern, though that familiar shit-eating grin already tugs at his mouth. “so that’s where it went,” he says. you look up, feigning innocence. “what?” he points at you dramatically. “my favorite hoodie. stolen in cold blood.” you giggle, but before you can speak, he strides forward, scoops you up, and spins you around. “you’re lucky you look this cute in it,” he says between huffs. your laughter fills the room, and when he sets you down on the couch, his forehead rests against yours. the teasing melts into something softer. “it’s kind of unfair,” he murmurs. “you make my clothes look better than i ever could.” you roll your eyes, but he keeps grinning. “fine, fine,” he says, “you win. but if you’re gonna steal my hoodie, i’m stealing you for the rest of the day.” he wraps his arms around you, tugging you closer. you sigh at him, “i never confirmed or denied, ji” you lean your forehead against his, pouting innocently, “but does this mean i get to keep it?” instead of responding, jisung’s hands start wandering over your shoulder, down to your waist. staring at you tenderly. when you think he’s about to kiss you, the soft traveling of his hands turns firm, sharp. the next thing you know you’re a ball of laughter and small, broken yelps as he violently tickles your sides. ribs shaking in your fit even after he stops, you sharply hit his side. the laugh still housed in your chest as you calm down. now, he’s so lucky he looks this cute, or he’d be in for some real trouble.

↬ FELIX

he comes home earlier than you expected and freezes at the doorway. you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through your phone, one of his old t-shirts hanging loosely over you. his breath catches. it’s such a small thing, but it hits him like sunlight after rain. “that’s mine,” he says, laughing softly. you nod, teasing. “yeah. you left it in my drawer, remember?” he rubs the back of his neck and grins, flustered. “i didn’t think i’d ever see it on you.” he looks away, the sight feels too intimate to take in all at once. he’s smiling, but his hands twitch a little, uncertain what to do. you walk over and tug at the shirt’s hem. looking up at him, “you don’t like it?”, you ask teasingly. he meets your eyes, and whispers. “no. i love it. i just… don’t know what to do with how much i love it.” he laughs at himself, embarrassed, and you laugh too. he hides his red cheeks behind a hand but you can see just how flustered you’ve made him. stepping up to him, you gently move his hand away from his face, placing a swift kiss right where it had been, then placing his hand back. he turns to you grinning, “how are you so cute? i’m going to have a heart attack.”

↬ SEUNGMIN

you wear his hoodie one quiet morning, thinking nothing of it. he sees you and freezes. there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. he steps closer, brushing a hand against your sleeve as if to prove you’re real. “hey, that’s not yours,” he says, and his voice is small. the obvious statement making you want to giggle at him. you smile. “it was cold.” he swallows hard. “you should keep it. please, i mean.” he laughs under his breath, but it sounds like a confession. “it’s stupid, but i need to see you wearing that all the time. you’re adorable. perfect, even.” you try to bite back the smile forming on your lips, “you’re right it’s stupid”. he scoffs and walks over to you, eyes never tearing from you clad in his clothes. even though you think he’s being cheesy, you take his hand, gently, and tell him you’ll wear it until it falls apart. that makes him smile so sweetly and gently. later, when he hugs you, he tugs at the fabric again, whispering, “don’t give it back yet. not ever, maybe.” he doesn’t mean the hoodie. he means this—the nearness, the safety, the warmth you both carry now that you’re together. you lean against him, “i wasn’t planning on it, stupid.” the sound of the two of you laughing fills the air.

↬ JEONGIN

Normally, he had no problem keeping rhythm. In fact, he was quite good at it. If he were really paying attention, he would’ve noticed this cacophony of sounds and likely pulled out his old laptop to record a sample or type something out quickly. Inspiration, he often said, was found any and everywhere, if you simply took the time to stop and listen.

He wasn’t about to listen to his own advice right now, though.

Your giggles — usually a source of his own happiness (and inspiration) — were at the moment getting on his nerves. Not because it was you, and not because he thought your laugh was annoying, no — he loved your laugh, loved you. But the fact that Jeongin was the one making you giggle and blush like that… well, that simply wasn’t acceptable.

He glares over at you, where you’re curled up in the corner of the couch and glued to your phone, squealing and giggling as you watch and re-watch Jeongin’s parts in the new music video.

He looks sooo good in this video, Channie!

I can’t believe how much he’s grown into his features, he looks so different now…

Ah, his biceps! Has he been coming to the gym with you more often?

“No, he hasn’t.” Chan’s voice is sour, bitter and jealous. His cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment — here he was, a grown man of nearly 30, throwing a hissy fit over his dongsaeng. Jeongin, of all people! Of all the other members! It made it that much more humiliating, that he was jealous of Jeongin. His baby brother.

If you notice the sullenness in your boyfriend’s voice, you don’t show it, which adds to Chan’s annoyance. Why weren’t you watching his parts? His clips? What was so fascinating about Jeongin in this video?

“Maybe he’s been going with Bin, then… because he’s gotta be working out pretty damn hard for those…” you marvel, rewinding the video again to catch another glimpse of Jeongin’s biceps flexing as he raises his arms.

That was it. Chan’s scowl darkens, and he moves over next to you to grab your phone from your hands — the video still playing — before scooting back over to his end of the couch, a smug smile on his face now as he hears your protests.

“Chan, wha…” you grumble, your gaze finally settling on your attention starved boyfriend. His face lights up as you regard him — never mind that your expression is confused and annoyed — and he shuts off your phone, beaming.

“You’re not paying attention to me,” he pouts, and his cuteness almost makes you forget about his thievery.

“Give it back,” you pout back, playfully reaching for your phone.

“Uh-uh… Jeongin time is over. It’s Channie’s time now.” He grins wider, holding the phone even further out of your reach. You groan in exasperation.

“Babe, come on…”

“I said, it’s time to pay attention to Daddy now.”

A chill runs down your spine at the dominant turn in Chan’s voice. You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry, and your heart starting to pound faster. When you meet his gaze, his eyes are dark with lust and control. He makes sure that you’re watching his every movement, as he stands up and places your phone on the nearby table, screen side down. You can hear it buzzing, and he clicks his tongue as he watches you twitch with hesitation.

“Why’re you so focused on other things, baby girl? I’m right here… I need you too,” he croons, slowly walking towards you. You feel exposed, bare, despite the fact that you’re still completely clothed.

Once he’s standing before you, he nudges between your legs so that he’s able to get right in front of you, smirking as he watches your expression change to a flustered one. Your eyes lock with the sight before you — his crotch, his erection straining at the confines of his jeans. A strong, firm hand at the back of your head gently guides you closer, until your plush lips press against his hardness. You let out a small whimper as you feel his cock throbbing, pulsing against your hot mouth.

“Seems like you might need me just as much as I need you,” he murmurs, a teasing edge to his voice as he lets out a shaky exhale, feeling every quiver of your desperate, eager mouth. “Is that right, baby?”

“Mm… mhm…” you moan, your voice muffled. He lets out a low groan, the vibrations of your voice making him shudder with arousal.

“Good girl. ‘S what I like to hear.” His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you back, away from his crotch. It makes you whine again, but he shushes you as his free hand fumbles with his belt, with his button and zipper before roughly shoving his jeans and his boxers down at the same time. His jaw clenches with impatience and the strain of holding back as his cock twitches and bobs right before your eyes — it’s a bit cruel how he holds you back, makes you watch as a bead of precum forms at his slit. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, salivating as he watches you with amusement and satisfaction.

Finally, finally, he loosens his grip on your hair once more, grunting as you take that as permission to touch him. You move forward eagerly, your hands grabbing at his muscular thighs to pull him even closer, needing him to overwhelm every one of your senses. You press messy kisses to his hip, his upper thigh, making him groan and leak more precum, the sticky fluid dribbling down his aching shaft. You’re careful to not tease too much, knowing his patience is thin already tonight. And anyway, you want to please him. He needs it, and you’re completely willing to give it — to show him just how much you want him, more than anyone else. Forget everyone else.

He lets out an uneven, shaky breath as your lips finally close around his tip, your tongue swirling around his slit and tasting his bitter essence. You put on a bit of a show, moaning at the taste as you flutter your lashes and look up at him, further spurred on by the sight you’re met with — him, his head thrown back already, groaning as he lets you worship him.

You take more of him in your mouth, eager to please him more now, your grip tightening on his creamy thighs as you hollow your cheeks and tighten your lips around his throbbing length. His tip prods the back of your throat, and you hold back a gag as you swallow around it, eliciting a strained grunt from the man above you.

He takes things into his own hands now, mind blurred with lust. He curses under his breath, using both hands to grab your head and thrust fully into your mouth, chuckling breathily at the sound of your surprised, garbled moan. Your nose presses against his crotch, nosing at the short, fine hairs there. You take the opportunity to use your tongue to swipe at his balls, making him grit his teeth and shiver at the sensation.

“Fuck… taking me so good, aren’t you?” he practically purrs, looking down at you with adoration. “My good girl…”

Eagerly, you let out a whimper, the vibrations of your throat around his cock making him mutter a quiet “fuck” under his breath.

Once he’s sure that you’re adjusted, sure that you’re ready, he draws his hips back, sucking in a deep breath as he looks down at his spit slicked length. His hips snap forward, thrusting his cock into the back of your throat roughly, and he moans loudly as you let out a choked splutter. He thrusts hard and fast, chuckling darkly at the sight of your spit dripping down his chin, dribbling down his balls and making a messy puddle of fluids on the floor between the two of you.

“Mn, fuck… ‘y like that? Like the feeling of my cock down your throat?” he grunts, biting his lower lip hard as he feels your tongue swipe along the underside of his length, teasing despite his rough treatment.

Your nails dig into his skin, as if to wordlessly say, yes.

The hungry, lustful look in your eyes paired with the hot, wet cavern of your mouth proves too much for Chan to handle, at least for too long. You’re far from done when he pulls you off of his cock, and you let out a hoarse whine of protest. His chest is heaving, the exposed skin of his lower stomach shiny with perspiration.

“Bedroom,” he growls, dark eyes trained on your shivering form as you stand up immediately, obeying his words like a well trained dog. He kicks off his jeans and boxers, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he follows you to the bedroom, stalking you like a predator closing in on its prey.

You feel like you’re being hunted too — stumbling on shaky legs (even though you hadn’t even been fucked yet), short of breath. You cast a look over your shoulder every few steps, slowing your pace as you watch Chan’s shadowy form trailing after you. He too pauses, to take off his shirt. Your breath hitches as you watch him pull the sweat soaked garment over his head, his muscles flexing deliciously in the limited light.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, baby.” You shiver, your panties dampening and your heart rate increasing as his voice echoes down the dim hallway. You quicken your pace, skittering down the hall and entering the bedroom. You perch delicately, nervously, on the edge of the bed — watching the doorway, waiting for Chan.

He enters momentarily, but every second feels like an eternity until he appears in your line of vision again.

Completely nude now, he looks like a Greek god standing there. There’s a slightly cocky, arrogant look on his face as he watches your hungry expression, and he shifts to wrap his thick fingers around his even thicker cock. Stroking slowly, teasingly, he lets out a low groan, squeezing his tip before letting go, smirking at the way you squeeze your thighs together and suck in a quick, eager breath.

“Strip. And lay back for me,” he orders, watching from the doorway. Refusing to come closer, unless you listen to what he says. Holding the reward of his cock just out of your reach.

What else can you do?

It’s not like you wanted to disobey anyway.

You fumble with your clothes, the fabric suddenly becoming extremely confusing as you try to rip everything off as fast as possible. Chan hides a smile behind a stoic demeanor as he watches you struggle to get your shirt over your head.

You eventually figure it out, your cheeks flushed with sheepishness as you settle in the middle of the bed, propping yourself up slightly with your elbows. Just enough that you can still see Chan.

He’s looking over your nude frame appreciatively, a low grumble of a growl in his throat as he finally begins to approach. He crawls onto the foot of the bed, slowly making his way up to you, back muscles rippling with every slight movement. He doesn’t stop until he’s hovering over you, his cock pressing against your inner thigh, hot and throbbing right next to where you need him most. You’re sure he can feel it too, from the way his length slips against your slick skin, dampened with your juices.

He leans down, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Memorizing everything about you, as if he didn’t already have it committed to memory.

He adjusts, angling his hips slightly differently, making you gasp as he presses against your sopping slit instead of your inner thigh. It was like he could read your mind — or, he was just thinking the same thing.

Your hands find refuge on his back, nails taking up and down his milky, rippling skin. His hands settle on your hips, squeezing the plush flesh there, anchoring himself before he pulls back slightly, nudging your legs onto his shoulders, that same cocky grin spread across his handsome features as he looks down at your flustered expression. He leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss to your quivering leg, before he looks down and lets out a shaky breath, tapping his tip against your clit.

“Ready?” he murmurs softly, his other hand reaching up to find yours — both of your hands were lost, clutching at the sheets desperately after you removed them from his back. You squeeze his hand gently, the feeling comforting.

You nod, biting your lower lip in anticipation. And so he presses forward, a guttural groan escaping his lips at the same time a whimpery mewl escapes yours.

There’s a slight bit of resistance as he presses the blunt tip of his cock against your tight slit, reminding both of you that it had been too long since the last time this happened. You wince slightly at the burn, the stretch, as his tip wedges its way inside, pressing deeper and deeper. It begins to satisfy that gnawing hunger from within, making you let out a sob of relief as he bottoms out inside you, despite the slight pain that remains.

Chan lets out a snarl, upper lip curling as he presses your legs up against your chest, nearly folding you in half as he starts to fuck you hard and fast — mirroring the rough pace he’d set when fucking your face just minutes before.

“Fuck, fuck… fuck yes,” he groans, letting out a pleased hum as he hears your mewls increase in volume. He bottoms out, grinning widely as you squirm when he swirls his hips in circles, grinding his tip against your cervix. It feels so deep, so intense — it’s no wonder you can’t help but sputter and babble for more, even though he’s giving you more than you can handle.

“Baby girl likes it when Daddy’s rough with her, hm?” he coos, snapping his hips against yours, the emanating squelches making you moan with embarrassment and arousal. “Come on… say it. Tell me how much you love it, how good you fuckin’ feel right now…”

He reaches down, thumbing at your sensitive, ignored clit, making you gasp at the sudden dual pleasure. “F-feels so good!” you manage to stutter out, finding it extremely difficult to properly form words at the moment.

He pulls out suddenly, and your skin screams for his touch to return. Your legs fall back limply, aching from the position that they had been pressed in all this time. His expression is one of pure lust, endless longing, as he looks at the sweaty sheen of your skin, the way the dim light highlights your curves and dips.

“Flip over for me, baby.” His voice is commanding, that dominant edge not leaving despite the growing exhaustion in his aching muscles.

You do so, your legs shaking as you get on all fours. Chan’s touch is back on you instantly, sending fire through your veins, bringing you back to life. You find your voice, whimpering his name — Daddy — desperately, loudly, as he shoves your face into the sheets and presses his hips against yours.

He drags his tip over your clit, over your aching and swollen hole, stopping just before he reaches your ass. He sucks in a quivering breath, in a trance as he stares at the glorious sight before him. Never before has anyone been able to evoke such animalistic instinct from him before, such primal urge. He stares at your vulnerability, drooling at the implications and potential possibilities. “Pretty… my baby girl has such pretty holes, all for me to use…”

“Daddy, please!” you plead, your cries muffled, tears and snot and saliva soaking the sheets beneath your face.

He growls in response, slapping his cock against your swollen pussy. You sob, your feet kicking against the mattress weakly, listlessly, uselessly.

He plunges his cock back into you without any warning, without even another word. Your sob turns to a deep moan, your walls clamping down around his thick girth, sucking him in deeper.

It takes everything in him to not fill you up right there, right at that moment.

Drawing back slowly, his balls tight and full, he has to hold back even more, biting his tongue. There’s a circle of cream around the base of his cock, your combined fluids making a painfully erotic sight. He needs more, needs to feel you cum on his cock.

He changes his position, faster than you can protest. One hand cements itself on your hip, the grip bruising. The other reaches around, pressing hard against your puffy clit and rubbing in tight circles. He has to muffle a moan by leaning down and biting your shoulder as he feels your pussy clench around him again. His hips start thrusting again, frantic and needy. His teeth release your flesh, soothing the sting with his soft lips, pressing sloppy kisses everywhere you need him.

“D-Daddy…” you moan, the new position bringing you to your orgasm much faster than before. You can feel him so fucking deep, feel the roughness of his calloused fingers directly on your clit. It’s too much, and you both know it. You can practically see the smug grin on his face as you close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his tip dragging against your g-spot with each knowing draw of his hips.

“Go on, cream on my cock, baby. Know you wanna,” he growls, pinching your clit between his h thumb and forefinger, moaning in harmony with the scream it brings from your lungs. “G-gonna breed this pussy so fuckin’ full…”

You think you black out for a second, but you can’t be sure. All you know is that one moment you’re crying Chan’s name, and the next his front is pressed against your back as he whispers your name back, heat blooming inside you as he spurts ropes of thick cum deep into your womb.

He presses kisses to your sweaty shoulder, hands coming to gently smooth over your waist, soft praises falling from his lips — so sweet in comparison to the dirty filth he’d been spewing just before.

He pulls out with a sharp inhale, watching the pearly rivulets of your combined release flowing from your sweet pussy. He nearly leans back in, but you flip back over to pull him into a searing kiss instead. He kisses back, heart skipping a beat as he gently pulls you into an embrace.

“Satisfied now?” you murmur, voice hoarse but still teasing.

That was something (one of the many things) he adored about you — your insatiable, never ending spark. He rolls his eyes, resting his head on your chest.

“Mm… maybe for now,” he concedes, indeed content for now, as long as your phone (and the replays of Jeongin’s parts) stay away from his girl.

petrichor-han 2026. do not translate, repost or feed into ai.

please consider reblogging and/or leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic :) tumblr posts revolve around reblogs, and i'd appreciate the gesture!!

in the library on an ordinary lunch break, he towered over you from behind, a hand hovering on your hip as he chuckled and looked down at you.

Jungwon wasn’t stupid, he could tell the pink hue on your cheeks wasn’t just from the summer heat.

“Shorty~” he cooed, grabbing the book from the shelf that you were struggling to get.

god.. these days, he was getting too cocky for his own good.

on the days where you were too spent from school, he’d walk you home with his hand around your back, bringing your arm to wrap around his shoulder.

even if he had been so tired from dance practise, he couldn’t just leave you be.

“ah.. you’re so heavy..” he groaned, setting your sleepy figure down on the bed.

your eyes, half open, found his figure hovering over yours as he laid you down. jungwon carefully pulled your covers over your figure, before he pulled back to leave your room.

until he felt a gentle grip, tugging on his wrist back. “Stay..”

he froze, standing above your bed for about 10 seconds. but before you knew it, you felt a dip by your mattress, as he sat in front of the laying figure.

jungwon looked away from you, and shyly muttered something that sounded like “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

or other times at lunch when you’d be a little messy. he knew your habit of eating and not noticing dressing or some sauce was left on your lip.

“Tsk.. you’re so clumsy.” He said, as he wipes off the sauce from your lip. this time, you’re the one who freezes in your spot.

and jungwon seems to realise the weight of his actions too, hand gently resting on your jaw as he wipes the sauce off your lip. his eyes widen, you turn red, and you both look away and pretend nothing happened.

you couldn’t look at him straight anymore, pretending like you weren’t affected by looking down and clearing your throat.

He talked to you about his dreams, you talked to him about your lack of. you came to every dance showcase, brought snacks after practise.

“A stage that big.. could you imagine? just to watch one person dance..” Jungwon muttered, sprawled out on your bed as you try to tune your new hand-me-down guitar your aunt gave you.

you looked up at him and chuckled, “Don’t forget about me when you’re on that stage.”

Jungwon scoffs, getting up as he watches your fingers press absentmindedly on the chords you’ve learnt this week.

“Don’t be stupid. first off, I could never get that famous. And second,” Jungwon trails off, hesitating to admit something. “Second.. how could I ever forget you?”

your gaze softens for a moment, tearing your eyes from the guitar to look up at him. it’s the first time in 16 years where the tension isn’t just snarky remarks and teasing, but it actually feels like something.

Jungwon purses his lips, dimples on full view as he looks away shyly. “I’ll look for you first in the audience. I promise.”

“Do I get free backstage passes?” You add, looking up at him with a grin that makes his stomach do this weird flip that’s been occurring too many times these days.

he rolls his eyes, but a soft smile rests on his face. “Cmon, you’re like.. vvvip.”

Sounds about right.

“Ok good. I like being vvvip.”

you know you fell for him that day. when he just stayed over, singing along to random songs you learnt. and you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered at you, the way he seemed eager to listen to the new songs you learnt.

he couldn’t go a day without talking to you.

Jungwon would wait under your house to walk to school together, fingers just barely touching. he got upset when you didn’t show up after his dance practices to pick him up, but got all giddy whenever you said you’d treat him to his favourite rice cakes as compensation.

he used to smile at you at the little hint of an inside joke, poke or gently nudge your leg under tables just to tease you.

There were even times where you let yourself be vulnerable to him. he was like.. your person?

“I don’t think I have a dream.” you blurted out tiredly, gazing over the city lights.

“That’s a blessing in disguise. People who have dreams are constantly worried about not achieving them.” Jungwon murmurs back after a pause, still looking at the clear night sky above him, lying down behind you.

“Easy for you to say. You’re the most driven person I know.” You scoff out, fingers fiddling with the ears of his stuffed animal on your lap, and turning your head back to look at him.

a chuckle escaped his lips, just thinking about his dream. jungwon was in love with dancing, and although a risky choice, that passion made you question whether you should be feeling the same thing. like you should have a dream you were that passionate about.

his eyes sparkled for gods sakes, and you didn’t know how he even managed to do that. how Jungwon’s eyes looked so doe-like and sparkly, brighter than all the city lights in front of you.

you sigh again and rest your back against the concrete, laying next to him. His eyes travel to your face, tilting his head to the side as his eyes soften, and his teasing smile fades away.

Maybe you weren’t joking this time.. but it was hard to focus on how sad you were when you looked so pretty being it.

Is it a surprise he thinks you’re beautiful? Maybe it was, because never in his life would he expect to fall for you, you were only his best friend. Lines shouldn’t be crossed.

but you can’t really control it, can you?

no matter how hard he tried to fight it, jungwon couldn’t stop the way his heart beat just a little faster when he saw you this close. He wonders if it’s even your beauty he stares at, or if it’s also the closeness.

The knowledge that nobody else has seen you like this, and nobody has seen him like this. The feeling of being in your own world.

“Jungwon..?” You finally whispered, tilting your head to your side.

“Mm..” You didn’t expect to catch him staring at you again. Usually, he’d look away before you caught on, or clear his throat and blink away. This time he didn’t.

He looks at you as if he doesn’t want to look at anything else. Not just your eyes, his gaze travels to your shoulders, your hands on his stuffed animal, your hair that drapes over his pillow, that he knows is going to smell like your shampoo now.

“..some dreams aren’t that clear. you’re just hearing people talk about their dream jobs.. or how rich they want to be.” he whispers.

you tear your eyes away from his, because his gaze feels too strong to hold.

“Isn’t that all there is to life? Work is life..” you chuckle dryly, looking back up at the sky.

Jungwon looks down for a second, and a silence envelopes the atmosphere. “You’re the last person I thought would say that.”

“I guess I’ve just become a bit negative.. I just feel like I’m lagging behind everyone.” you sigh again. but Jungwon doesn’t focus on how different you seem, his hand just finds yours.

your breath hitched, not even realising your anxious movements he stopped. his delicate fingers just gently on yours, like he’s trying to stop you from fidgeting. “You’re not lagging behind..”

“I’m envious of you.. I think I have too many dreams, and if I don’t meet them, I’d.. I think I’d crash out.” He laughs, lighthearted in his expression for the first time since the conversation.

Your eyes find his, but for the first time, he isn’t initiating eye contact, he doesn’t even look at you. Still, you see the faint blush on his cheeks, and his touch, with his gaze, lingers on your hand.

“But.. some dreams aren’t just materialistic. I.. I think..” he’s stalling, because he knows he’s not just comforting you. he’s confessing something he doesn’t even know. “well in my case.. my best dream is the one right in front of me.”

your breath hitches again at his words. you want to believe what you’re thinking, but you wonder if that’d even be possible.

You being his dream? Really? still, your hand reciprocates his touch, thumb just gently grazing the back of his hand.

you look down at your shared contact, and Jungwon finally looks up at you. he looks at you only when you look away, when you don’t notice. he notices your lashes low as you gaze at his hand, how your voice is soft as you hum back, your breath steadier.

his response is probably not the most practical, reasonable answer you wanted, but it puts you at ease for just a moment. and it makes the mood suddenly more intimate, although you both don’t do anything else.

you realised two things that day.

one, that your crush on Jungwon was getting more dangerous, the more you thought about the possibilities that he might like you too.

and two, that you found a dream. a real goal. it had something to do with Jungwon’s dream.

but sometimes, you find yourself not understanding him at all. and you didn’t want to believe it was true, but it became so when you both started senior year.

“Where’re we eating?” you hummed, hands in your pockets as you walked up to his desk.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow and looked back at you. “uh.. I brought lunch from home.” he said, sounding a little avoidant.

but you shrugged. “So? Just come with me to get my food.” you said nonchalantly, since he always came off campus with you to get lunch.

but this time, you thought you caught a grimacing expression on his face.

“I can’t.. I’m having lunch with the guys. I’ll just see you in class, alright? Bye..” he dismissed, sighing softly and walking away.

your eyebrows raised at his sudden mood, blinking in surprise.

Oh?

Maybe he just had a bad mood today..

or maybe you had done something?

you guessed it wasn’t the first option when you saw him laughing cheerfully with the new female transfer student.

“Jungwon!” You called out, after one night where you waited for him after dance practise.

He didn’t ask you to, he never had to. And you knew it would’ve been awkward considering he had been high-key ignoring you for the past few days. With his dance bag in hand, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Oh.” He sighs when he notices. And you swear you hear him utter “you again..” under his breath.”

“What? Don’t you wanna go.. get ice cream or something?” you say, acting like everything is ok.

but the knit in his eyebrows, the way he has to close his eyes and take a breath before speaking up, like he’s frustrated, sends you another message.

“Y/n. Stop this.. stop. Stop waiting on me.” Jungwon says, making you pause again. “We don’t have to be around each other all the time. I have my own life, ok? that doesn’t include you.” He stutters, but doesn’t stop.

“And it’s.. it’s embarrassing to have you fuss over me. It’s not like we’re dating..”

your blood ran cold. he was making it seem like you were the pushy one, like he didn’t embolden you to act on your feelings. it was as if he knew you like him, and was using your sensitivity to his advantage.

“But.. we don’t act like that.” You tried to argue, voice cracking slightly as tears pooled your eyes. you hated fighting with him, the one person you trusted most in the world. and you hated being the sensitive one, not the one to respond to him when he was being vulnerable.

“We do.. And it’s getting old. And frankly annoying.”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair, sighing like.. almost like you’re a minor nuisance he needs to get over. You looked down, fighting back the tears that threatened to run down your cheeks.

Jungwon sighs, glancing down at your teary eyes. Something in his heart twists, but he pushes it aside. “Sorry, ok? Don’t cry.. just.. accept the fact that I don’t want to be as close to you as we were anymore, alright?”

And when he didn’t stop and drop his bag, or wrap his arms around you, whispering soft apologies, and instead started walking away? you realised that maybe he really didn’t feel the same.

ii heather - paper hearts - every breath you take

CHAEWON GIGGLED AND NUDGED YOUR ARM, showing her phone to you.

"You and jungwon?! You two were childhood friends?" She spoke, making your eyes widen at the kiddy photo on her phone.

"How'd you find out!?" you scoffed, trying to grab at her phone.

but she ignored your question, pointing and chuckling at the photo she caught from your mom’s Facebook.

"Why is he wearing a Cinderella dress? Awhh! did you dress him up~?" Chaewon raised her eyebrow and cooed again.

You rolled your eyes and went back to picking at your cold school lunch. "No.." you muttered.

Chaewon wasn’t as oblivious as Jungwon. she noticed your dismissive attitude.

she immediately cleared her throat and turned her phone off, as she started talking about something else. “So, you gonna come with me to Jaehyun’s party?”

But as she tried to distract you, she noticed how you looked up and your eyes almost sparkled.

Chaewon furrowed her eyebrows and looked in your direction, until she realised why you were staring.

The same guy she was talking about, Yang Jungwon..

you looked up and your gaze followed his movements as he walked to his table with his friends, laughing and talking.

You remember how you'd be the one making him laugh.

the one sitting next to him during lunch, the cause of his pretty smile — not his douchebag friends.

you'd be the one he looked at and listened to intently, with sparkly eyes when talking — not the girl under his arm who kept giggling and blushing.

he chuckled and leaned close to her, whispering something in her ear.

you didn’t care, obviously. why would you care? why would you care about what he said? why it made Sullyoon giggle and turn even more red. why she nudged his chest playfully. why jungwon grinned and giggled back.

why he bit his lip, his eyes gazed at her pretty, gorgeous smile.

the way he looked at you when he used to tease you.

Chaewon saw how you let out a little sigh and your eyes dropped. god, they were gross. your gaze turned bitter, picking at your food harshly.

she softly grabbed your shoulder and made you look away from him. "Hey.. Sunwoo and I are going to Jaehyun’s birthday next week, you should come too!" Chaewon said in a chipper tone.

You looked back at her and blinked, distracting yourself from him.

"Sure, I guess.." you chuckled dryly and looked down, continuing to pick at your food.

and It seemed that jungwon sensed the two laser beams from your eyes staring into the side of his head. as he looked up, tearing his gaze away from sullyoon and to you instead..

He gulped and scowled at you, why were you everywhere he went, even when he tried to keep running away?

you think you’re being cursed when you’re assigned cleaning-classroom duty with Jungwon of all people today.

how you had to stand and watch as he kissed Sullyoon’s cheek goodbye, reassuring her that he’d see her after school.

he doesn’t miss the scoff you let you as you put your bag down. he doesn’t look away from your form as you sigh through your nose, chin up in a walk past him that looks arrogant.

‘What’s your problem?’ Jungwon wants to say. ‘Jealous much? Thought I couldn’t find better?’

as you stand behind the teachers table, grabbing a pair of plastic gloves. Jungwon swears to stay silent, not wanting to open up Pandora’s box with you again.

“Yah.. Y/n!” Sunwoo says, outside the door of the classroom, sweat clinging to his forehead and panting, his school bag slung lazily over his shoulder.

“Sunwoo? What are you doing here?” you mutter, putting down the cleaning supplies in your hands as he walks up to you.

Jungwon can’t help but watch from the side, gaze lingering for a second too long.

“Here. You left these in my bag earlier.” Sunwoo takes a pack of some medicine, to which Jungwon knows is for your allergies.

because he used to take care of you, remind you to take medication.

you gasped, grabbing the pack immediately. “Oh my god, I love you. I thought I lost these—I was just going to waste some money and buy new ones..”

Sunwoo scoffs, flicking your forehead, to which you scowl and rub the spot to soothe the pain. “Idiot.. I’ll be waiting at the cafe alright? We can eat before we go.” He says, head slightly tilted.

Jungwon wonders how comfortable you two could’ve been, to the point where Sunwoo is allowed to fuss over you.

“Your treat?” you coo sweetly, and the tone just makes him feel sick, a bit heavy in his chest.

but Sunwoo chuckles and rolls his eyes. “When is it ever not..”

When Sunwoo leaves, Jungwon finally lets out the huffing exhale that he’s been holding, and it catches your attention.

you raise an eyebrow, “What’s your problem?” you saw the words he wanted to say bitterly earlier.

Jungwon raises his eyebrows, standing in front of you with the teachers desk between you two. “Nothing.” He says, almost emotionless.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” His jaw tightens, you catch that. but Jungwon doesn’t reply, he doesn’t want to risk saying something stupid.

the silence is loud, as you collect the random pieces of your trash your classmates dropped.

“How’s yoojung?” You spoke up about his sister, reminding him of how close you were to his family. And he cringed at the domestic knowledge.

“Fine.” he replies dryly.

The air grows awkward, as you two move around the classroom silently, picking up trash, sweeping the floor, cleaning the black boards. “..Guess we better hurry up then. Your date is waiting outside, isn’t he?” Jungwon says finally, as you both almost finish up cleaning.

You knit your brows, glancing down at the floor in confusion. “You mean Sunwoo?”

“Oh, is that his name?” Jungwon rolls his eyes, with a sarcastically sweet tone. and you can’t help but scoff, because Sunwoo and Jungwon have been in the same this whole year. Jungwon was doing the ultimate douchebag move, pretending he didn’t know.

“Are you serious? That’s your problem?”

“I have no problem.” he huffs.

“Your problem is me having a friend who’s a guy that isn’t you?” You say in an accusatory tone, almost like a statement rather than a question.

Jungwon feels his blood boil. with jealousy? with the rising tension of this argument? he doesn’t know. “My only problem is with you.” he scoffs, but shows a flash of regret immediately when he notices your confused and wilted expression.

your grip loosens on your bag strap, as your eyes soften a little. but they immediately harden again, eyebrows knitted in frustration.

but instead of questioning him, you grab your bag again, and head out the door. you don’t want to unpack this baggage anymore.

Jungwon’s expression stiffens, holding his bag strap in the middle of the classroom like an idiot. Of course you’re running again. You’re always leaving, and he’s somehow always there to see you leaving him.

This time, you’re not alone. Outside, it’s Sunwoo’s car that you’re getting into. And Jungwon’s eyes can’t seem to look away, even when his girlfriend enters the classroom all chipper.

iii. so far away - we can’t be friends - the one that got away

JAEHYUNS HOUSE WAS A MESS, as the fresh air from outside was immediately drowned out by the suffocating atmosphere, students dancing, singing out nostalgic songs, a few bottles popped.

“Ouf- c’mere..” sunwoo says, taking off his jacket while grabbing onto your hand. both of your eyes narrow as you escape the strangling party air, while Chaewon blends in like it’s her second home.

with a sigh, you both sit down at the kitchen counter, next to a few other people you don’t know. you know enough to recognise they’re not apart of your school, probably college students.

knowing Myung Jaehyun and his crazy social circle, he probably knew these bad-influencing kids doing drugs in the corner or taking more beer cans than they needed out of the fridge.

Two of the said college girls, whom you recognise from another party years ago, approach you both, passing you two shot glasses like it’s nothing.

You scoffed at the speed of the first alcoholic offer, while Sunwoo grabs the cup fast as he can.

suddenly, ningning’s eyes brighten up at the door. “Oh, sullyoon!” ningning exclaims, waving her hand to call her over.

The name she calls out sends a chill down your spine. because you know who she came with. and sure enough, there she is, with Jungwon’s arm around her.

funnily enough, she’s wearing the same jacket you got for him for his 15th birthday. (where you begged for your mom to pay for, because you knew how much he wanted it)

Sunwoo noticed immediately. His wide eyes turned low, as he followed your gaze to the couple arriving to the house.

Jungwon was smiling and laughing with his friends. Holding her hand like it belonged there. was this really the same guy that made your chest feel like it was too heavy to stand up right now? to make you feel so hollow inside?

you hate how your eyes burn, but can’t pull away from the sight of his arm around her, how he introduces her to all his friends, and how they all compliment her.

because she was so fucking perfect, wasn’t she? so perfect that jungwon risked your friendship over her.

in this life, she was the one that got him. or rather, he was the one that chose her. and she didn’t even have to try. because jungwon wanted to kiss her, to dote on her and dance with her, show her off to all his friends.

and he still got shy, all red and giggly whenever someone teased him about his new girlfriend, like the old Jungwon.

but in another life? maybe you could be his girl. He’d actually choose you. maybe jungwon wouldn’t be ashamed of you.

he wouldn’t have to be the one that got away.

the bitter taste of the shot of whatever burns your throat, as you gulp it down without even thinking. something to numb that hollow pain.

Everyone sings along to So Far Away over the speakers, and it makes your ears cringe the way everyone is trying to sing along to jungkook’s voice. but it all faded away when your eyes trail to Jungwon’s pretty smile again. the way his eyes crinkled. how endearing he looked.

the blend of sharp raps and the male humming adlibs in the background make you feel lost, like Jungwon is this being that’s just unreachable.

Everything feels overstimulating. you can’t even focus, and sunwoo hates that you can’t even hum along to the music. from you yapping about how you want suga to rap right by your ear, to not being able to enjoy the song.

“Come on, lightweight.” He sighs, trying to squeeze in some humour to your already weakening mind.

It’s nearing midnight, the party’s dwindled down from hours before when you first came.

Somehow, you find yourself sitting between Sunwoo and Chaewon in a circle of people from your school, including the infuriating couple in front of you.

they didn’t really do much to be annoying, not too much with the pda or clinginess. but it was almost like they were trying to piss you off.

like there was no way he was whispering something in her ear, even nibbling a little, making her giggle and push him away, while he pulled back, not to just piss you off, right?

you think you’re delusional, but the way he glances at you as he smirks and pulls away.. that’s got to be intentional.

look what I’m doing without you, it’s like he’s saying. even though you don’t know why you did wrong.

An innocent game of truth or drink, Jaehyun suggested.

After a few drinks, a few spilled secrets, (and a few glares to the boy in front of you) you’re leaning against Sunwoo’s shoulder. a little tipsy, a little droopy. and a lot emotional.

it got annoying to see Jungwon’s hands interlacing Sullyoon’s. the way everyone immediately accepted her and laughs at her jokes, or called her cute, to which Jungwon proudly smiled.

his friends never liked you much. it seems that it wasn’t only him that who found a replacement for you.

You didn’t focus a lot much on what was happening in the room. Chaewon kissed a random girl as part of a dare, another guy took his first ever shot, a girl was on her phone, not socialising and probably wanting to leave.

“Alright, here’s a deep one. When was the last time you hurt, or got hurt by someone you really cared about?” Someone asks, a truth or drink question directed at jungwon.

he stiffens a little

and you think you’re going crazy when you see him glancing at you.

“Last time I got hurt? Hm..” he pretends to think. “I guess when my ex-best friend and I started to drift apart..” he says with a casual expression, like it’s a thing of the past.

and you notice how everyone looks impressed at how ‘bravely healed’ he was, and all it does is make you want to throw up.

“I had to cut them off. They got a bit too.. hm- obsessive and clingy?”

ok, now you really wanted to throw up.

he lets out a little scoff, a faint smirk on his lips. and you swear he looks at you again. “But I guess I realised I never cared about that person anyway. I never will.”

the room goes silent for a moment, before some people coo in admiration.

“That’s right.. people like that don’t deserve attention anyway.” Jaehyun speaks up, backing up Jungwon.

Meanwhile, Sunwoo pauses in discomfort.. Jake and sunghoon look around, laughing and clearing their throats nervously.

Chaewon joins in on the majority reaction of admiration, but furrows her eyebrows when she tries to put two and two together.

“You’re so cool, jungwon~” another guy says, patting his back, as he goes on a side rant about his obsessive ex girlfriend, while Jungwon smirks with a little chuckle.

but you couldn’t even look at him without hearing the venom laced in his tone again.

never cared about you. never would.

18 years of friendship, it never mattered to him.

you can’t help but wonder what you did to make him so bitter? to despise you the way he did.

to the point where Sullyoon was in your position, grazing his thigh and smiling at him, both out of comfort and like she was proud of him.

to the point where he was saying he never cared about you.

“Sorry.. where’s the bathroom?” you whispered, awkwardly excusing yourself from the group and clutching your stomach, acting like you had a stomach issue.

Jungwon’s eyes follow your figure. for a second, a hint of guilt flashes through his eyes. maybe he took it too far.

but that can’t erase the pain he felt from you all those months before. This was your fault, not his. he shouldn’t be feeling care for you the way he did anymore.

jungwon doesn’t allow his heart to feel heavy, or the sweat to cling onto his forehead. he doesn’t even allow himself to think of how he used to smile with you, or ruffle your hair and wipe your tears.

when you reach an empty space, you shakily try to breathe in, fanning yourself to calm down.

Chaewon comes following you, without a word as she leaves the group.

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” you can hear her slurred voice, obviously intoxicated, but the sincerity is clear.

you look back at her, putting on a smile, as you quickly cover your teary eyes. but you couldn’t hide the involuntary sniffle.

“Oh, nothing. I just.. little stomachache.”

Chaewon furrows her brows, hearing your voice crack. “Y/n?” She gasps when she sees your red eyes, immediately wiping away the tears that fall.

she doesn’t say anything. she just wraps her arms around your shoulders, brushing your hair gently. you don’t say anything either.

It feels too awkward to admit why you feel this way. you’ve only told Sunwoo over a drunken night anyway.

“You’ve got to tell me why you’re crying tomorrow. I’m too drunk to remember anything right now.” Chaewon says, making you laugh at the sudden admission.

pulling back, you nod. “Mhm.. I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I didn’t know.. you went through that..” Sullyoon says back in the group, an innocent smile on her face as she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb.

it snaps Jungwon out of his trance, as he chuckles, acting all high and mighty.

Of course she doesn’t know. She didn’t know his past, she didn’t know his future. Sullyoon was only there for the present. maybe he should give her the benefit of the doubt, the only had been dating for a month.

you knew him since diapers, and what he dreamed of doing till he grew too old to walk. you were there for his and he thought you’d be there for his future. maybe the main character for it.

but you didn’t know the present, what kind of person he was now.

and Jungwon liked that. he didn’t want you knowing him anymore.

he didn’t want Sullyoon knowing what you did either. he didn’t want her to know about his past with you, she didn’t have to know about his regrets. but the thought of her knowing about his future, his dreams of dancing, the thought loomed over his head.

Jungwon tried to ignore the holes Sunwoo is glaring into his head right now, as he smirked hesitantly and nodded, his grip loosening on Sullyoon’s hand.

iv. sweet - apocalypse - better for you

THE NEXT DAY PASSES LIKE A BLUR. Jaehyun’s sister offered you a ride home, after you managed to escape from that stupid game secretly from the back exit.

Sunwoo had been sending you text after text, not asking if you were ok. He already knew the answer to that one.

‘I’ll stop by tomorrow morning with your favourite snacks, ok? Chaewon will come too. Don’t feel bad over what that jerk said, you don’t need him to care about you anyway.’

you wake up to a stream of reassuring messages, talking shit about Jungwon, while talking about you like you’re the only girl in the world.

but you couldn’t stop watching the videos, all the selfies and photos you took with jungwon, reminiscing over how sweet he was with you.

the photo of the flowers he got you when you cried over getting stood up on your first date.

the video of him with a dog filter on, just a short clip of him and his friend, an update he sent you randomly with the text, ‘I’m at karaoke right now~’

(you didn’t even ask what he was doing, but he for some reason, liked to pull on your heart strings an send you random updates throughout the day)

your old text messages, videos he recorded of you doing silly things with his cackling laughter in the background.

Although your head is throbbing, your heart feels ache worse than you ever have. you’re conscious enough to know what you’re doing, just breaking yourself down more.

when they arrive at your house, Chaewon beelines for your bed, sunglasses perched on her nose to cover how hungover she is. She makes a quick apology, saying she really cares for you, but needs to lay down.

“So.. tell me what happened. Because why does Sunwoo know and I don’t??” Chaewon pouts, reaching up to cup your cheek and slapping it affectionately. You roll your eyes, but her antics make you laugh as you push her hand away, the mattress dipping below you when you sit down next to her.

Chaewon reacts at every single little detail as you explain. From the cute stories you had with Jungwon as kids, to how your relationship was about to blossom into a childhood friend's romance story, only for him to stab you in the heart and suddenly give you the cold shoulder.

“No fucking way.. I could’ve sworn he had feelings for you.” Chaewon murmured, her head on your lap now. “That’s why the whole school was shocked when he started getting close to Sullyoon.”

and your stomach stirs again.

all you can do is gulp down, taking a breath before you say something stupid.

“That fucker doesn’t deserve you anyway.” Sunwoo says bitterly, smacking his lips like a nagging parent. “Never trusted him.”

“But why would he do that? It’s kind of stupid, isn’t it? He’s got to have a reason.” Chaewon speaks up again.

but you don’t want to look back anymore. you want to say, ‘that’s what I’m saying!’ but you feel like the energy has been zapped out of you. “I don’t know..”

while Sunwoo, he doesn’t want to indulge into the past. He’s dealt with you going through all the stages of grief except acceptance.

“Stop pouting.. Do you know how many times I struggle not to laugh when you cry?” Sunwoo says, before getting interrupted with a pillow hurled to his face.

At least that day you didn’t cry like you thought you would. Chaewon and Sunwoo were entertaining, and you were glad for that, because it distracted you from your ‘the one that got away’ heart break.

you didn’t even go on your secret account to stalk Jungwon’s profile. (because of course, he blocked you.)

they sang songs with you, the new ones you learnt on your guitar, like the way Jungwon used to do, except your heart wasn’t fluttering with every glance or touch.

You laughed more than you thought you would, singing nostalgic songs, with Sunwoo and Chaewon fighting over whose elaborate performance was more dramatic and worthy to go on X Factor.

You all sang along to Try Again too many times to count, as you strummed dramatically, driven by laughter and emotion. Chaewon and Sunwoo didn’t really match d.ear or jaehyun’s level of vocals, but the smile was engraved on your face at this point from smiling.

you were laughing, actually laughing, watching Sunwoo and Chaewon sing their hearts out, it made everything different. the tears forming in your eyes weren’t from missing Jungwon, but from laughter, real happiness.

They come to your house like a ritual now. You tried to ignore Jungwon the best you could at school, avoiding him or Sullyoon, or even Jake or Sunghoon like the plague. you don’t need to see Jungwon and Sullyoon all over each other, because apparently their honeymoon phase was still going strong.

“Oh? What’s this little thing~?” Chaewon coos, taking out a piece of paper with some writing. You barely pay attention to her, tuning your guitar.

That is until.. she starts reading it out.

“All of the city lights, never shine as bright as your eyes~” your eyes widen immediately, as you drop your guitar back to your mattress and reach for the sheet of lyrics. “Yah- Stop!”

Sunwoo looks up at you two, pulling up his phone to record the moment with a little chuckle.

Chae giggles, running around your little room, jumping up on your bed to continue reading the lyrics. “Don’t wanna leave you anymore! I’m tired of loving from afar- and.. never being where you are?” she trails off.. realising what you’re talking about.

“Stop looking at him like that.” Chaewon chuckles, nudging your side as you wait for Jungwon, who’s at the lunch line, bangs brushed just above his eyes, a bit tousled and messy.

his blazer makes his shoulders look a bit broader and more intimidating, but his smile making him look too adorable not to stare.

Oh yeah, and Jake’s next to him.

“Like what..”

“Like you want to run over there and kiss the living shit out of him.”

you roll your eyes. Although you’re still struggling to hide your growing feelings, you’re getting better at pretending when you’ve gotten caught. “Your brain works really weirdly..”

“Ok romeo.. loving from afar? You know that never works right..” Chaewon sounds amused, she’s smirking.

“Yeah, and that’s not what this is.”

“Hey! I got you your juice~” Jungwon coos, sitting next to you like he belongs there.

“Oh! Thank you..” you trail off, eyes and voice immediately softening by default.

Chaewon scoffs, meanwhile Jake munched on his own meal like it was nobody’s business, not a juice box or even a ‘hello’ for her in sight.

maybe you were right, she thinks. you’re not loving from afar. You both were doing it right in front of each other, loving each other so obviously, but too blind to notice.

Sunwoo stops recording, pausing in confusion, meanwhile she continues reading. But you quickly snatch the piece of paper from her. “What?” Sunwoo whines.

A scoff escapes Chaewon’s lips, “Y/n!”

“It’s nothing! It’s just some.. random lyrics I wrote down.” you crumple up the paper, but she reaches her arms out, trying to grab it. “Wow, I’m being left out again? Fake fri—” Sunwoo deadpans.

“She wrote a song about Jungwon!”

“No I didn’t!” your argument gets you a bit distracted, and Chaewon manages to grab the lyric scrap.

“Ok— ‘so many things I’d rather hear than fight, so for now it’s goodbye’? ‘You know the truth better than anyone else, You claim you don’t care, when I need you the most’? Is that not supposed to be about Jungwon!?”

you roll your eyes, burying your head in your hands when you hear your lyrics out loud for real. Sunwoo throws his phone down to the bed as he sits next to Chaewon, reading the lyrics.

“I thought we were healing you! Forgetting about that jerk!” Chaewon says. “Damn, these are pretty good..” Sunwoo seems to ignore her words, to which she smacks his arm in retaliation.

you sigh and roll your eyes, falling back to the bed. “I wrote the latest lyric like 2 weeks ago after the party. It's old news. It’s basically trash..”

“Oh yeah? Then why is it not in the trash? Why is it sitting out here? Waiting to be sung?” Chaewon coos.

Yeah, why wasn’t it in the trash? It should have been. You shouldn’t have been singing along to it last night, writing and erasing more lyrics. “Y/n, i am throwing this—” Chae sighs, shaking her head, as she stands up.

But Sunwoo is quick to grab it. “Wait, hold on.. Y/n this is actually good—how come you’ve never shown us your songwriting?” Sunwoo looks down at you, the corners of his lips rising a little.

“It was.. it’s just a little project, it’s not something special.” you stutter, a bit surprised and embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Chaewon scoffs at Sunwoo’s compliments. “Yeah, and I don’t want to hear an emotional song about a back-stabbing bastard.”

you can’t hide a smirk at her words, but Sunwoo ignores it, pulling your arms to sit you up. “Come on! Play it for us!”

“No, throw it away for us!” Chaewon immediately interrupted, making Sunwoo roll his eyes again. “Y/n, forget about Jungwon. This is great stuff, really. And you’ve got a great voice!”

great stuff was a stretch. maybe it was just Sunwoo sensing your overwhelming emotion in the lyrics. Chaewon sighs, grabbing her jacket and keys. “Oh god.. I have to go to my tutor but Y/n? Forget that song! Trust me, throwing those lyrics will be worth it.”

you think she’s right, you want her to be right. because you really want to put these lyrics from months ago past you.

when she finally leaves, Sunwoo pats the space on the bed in front of him, while he sits on your desk chair. “Come on, just play once?”

you don’t even know what you want. you gaze at the sheet again, a crumpled piece of paper with few words scribbled with pencil, over erased markings of lyrics you thought didn’t sound right. (or expressed your story right)

You had sung this song almost every other night. Why? because it was set in one of those ‘in another life’ scenarios.

The song — without a title yet — talked about a couple, a real couple, who had separated, speaking from the point of view of the partner who still yearned for their lover. but in this song, it seemed like you were singing to someone who wanted you back, like you were the one that left and were coming back.

It didn’t feel genuine to sing this to a real audience. It was more like a private thing you had in your own world. “It’s not even finished yet..” you murmured, pouting just a little as you stare at your fidgeting fingers. You remembered how Jungwon would place his hand over them, calming you down.

“Then just a verse. Or the chorus? any part that’s done. C’mon, I’ll even make a beat.” His teeth caged his bottom lip, patting his lap like a drum while beatboxing (and failing to do so).

you chuckle at his attempt to get you to sing, but your hands find your guitar despite your hesitance, already putting on the capo on the fretboard.

Sunwoo smiled teasingly at first, but his voice softens when you sing the bridge.

As much as he hates Jungwon, he’s glad that that jerk has done something good in sparking your creativity.

you mean it when you sing about how Jungwon’s eyes were brighter than all the city lights. About how you’d trade everything for a minute more to spend with him, to hear him talk to you like you were the only ones in the world again.

how you don’t want to get into any car that drives you away from him, and how he doesn’t want you going away either.

that was the part that was fake, how he wanted you with him.

how could he want you with him when he claimed to never even care about you?

“You actually sound good this time, Y/n, why do you sound like ass at karaoke?” Sunwoo huffs, making you roll your eyes, but you’re too bashful to get mad right now.

the vulnerability of sharing one of your random songs was scary, it was like you were scared of being taken seriously.

“Thanks..” you mutter under your breath, but in a dismissive tone. “Y/n, I’m serious! You know about the annual showcase right?”

The annual showcase, of course you knew. Jungwon was always the star. Your school would sign up all the students with talents, group performances from the junior dance team, performances from the orchestra and choir, magic acts and a few others.

But since the first year jungwon joined 3 years ago, he was the one act everyone looked forward to.

Everyone wanted to see what new piece he’d perform, they brought tissues to wipe their tears at the end of each dance. and you? you were in the crowd, holding up your camera like a proud parent. (while his real parents, sat right next to you, barely understanding what story he was trying to portray with ‘flailing around the stage’ as they’d call it)

You stayed in the practice room almost every day preparing for the show, watching as he choreographed something new, and then performed the same piece over and over again till he got it right. But you never got tired, the way his body moved was like art.

even after the performance, when students came up to him with flowers or gifts or compliments, his eyes would find yours. After his perfect showcases, he’d run into your arms, sweaty and panting, but you didn’t care enough to push him back.

So yeah, you knew a thing or two about the annual showcase.

“You could totally apply!” Sunwoo’s tone is all chipper and bright, but your expression couldn’t be farther from his. “Are you crazy? With this.. excuse of a song? I’m not even a trained singer! Or a performer! I can’t even go on stage for award ceremonies, what makes you think I can perform in front of the whole school and their moms?!”

Sunwoo puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you from rambling. “Y/n, relax. Nobody’s forcing you to join.”

You blink rapidly, looking down at your gibberish lyrics again. As if these random words would be any good to perform in front of an entire audience. As if you’d be any good.

“The council is looking for more talents, because all the seniors last year are gone. Why don’t you just.. start practising? Finish the lyrics, and.. if you feel up for it, I could maybe put your name on the list..?” Sunwoo smiled, and you already feel the embarrassment hit you in the face.

Sure, you liked watching the seniors perform back then, but yourself singing? In front of the whole student body, who probably knew you as the girl who wasn’t cool enough for Jungwon to hang out with anymore?

Especially when Jungwon was definitely going to perform too? He'd probably laugh and make fun of you to his friends if he saw your name on the list of talents. And he’d know the song was about him, who else had you feeling like that? The whole school would probably know.

there was no way you’d risk public humiliation for a stupid song about a stupid boy who broke your heart.

but then again.. wouldn’t performing it be like some kind of closure? you look down, awkwardly taking off the capo.

“I’ll think about it.” you muttered.

you couldn’t outright refuse. not just yet. because the thought of you performing (and maybe Jungwon seeing you on stage) excited you a little.

v. monster - somewhere only we know - bills

AFTER THE PARTY, Jungwon barely saw you at school.

Before? He saw you everywhere. You were in the same classes, you’d sit at lunch tables near his, even on the street in the neighbourhood. It was like you were clinging on, trying to see him even though the air was uncomfortable and tension-filled. While he pretended not to notice, making you feel like a complete stranger.

“She’s staring at you again..” Jay whispered with a little teasing chuckle, as they worked on a group project in the classroom, while you were sitting two rows behind. Jungwon would sigh, keeping his head faced away.

He’d complain about it before. It got annoying, the way you looked at him like he was still a part of your life.

It wasn’t like you completely disappeared, you were still in his classes, still at the school hallways, still around the neighbourhood. But you seemed.. different?

He never caught you staring anymore, he never caught your gaze from the corner of his eye anymore. Sometimes he’d catch you leaving the music room, guitar on your back as you left your conversation and waved goodbye to the music teacher or student council members. You weren’t even in the council, what would make you want to talk to them?

“Jungwon~!” the feminine voice flutters from the doorway, as Jungwon and the boys turn their heads to find Sullyoon coming up to them.

He clears his throat immediately, putting on a tight smile. She holds onto his hand as she sits on the chair next to him like she belongs, while his arm effortlessly drapes across her shoulders.

They engage in conversation like it’s easy, and Sullyoon fails to notice how red Jungwon is, and how he seems to stutter over his words a bit more.

Right behind her when she walked in, you entered the room, bee-lining to Sunwoo’s desk, who’s leaning against it standing, with Chaewon occupying his seat.

“Don’t look back.” Sunwoo whispers, leaning a little too close with his teeth clenched, as he spared a glance to the staring boy behind you.

just like any other, you don’t follow his orders and let your head follow the direction of his eyes. For some reason, you catch Jungwon’s gaze, who looks away quickly, as if he never landed his eyes on you. His thumb gently fidgets with his bottom lip, as if he’s trying to appear relaxed, but the tension is obvious.

“Are you incapable of listening to me?” Sunwoo murmurs, pinching your side.

Jungwon actually sees you for the first time in the activity rooms after school. Not just you ignoring him or passing by in the halls.

He had booked Studio A to practise his performance for the showcase, but so far? No creative luck.

you were always the one to pick out the music, he claimed you had a natural ear for the right songs he could dance to. So without that tool, he was one task short of finishing his piece.

The school showcase was in two months, he had time, at least that’s what he told himself.

But it was hard when this time, he’d be doing this all by himself. Jake and Sunghoon cared, but they didn’t use all their time and energy to entirely focus on encouraging Jungwon’s performance.

Sullyoon was there for him, but she had her own thing. Some art project for her final or something, he couldn’t really remember.

Back then? You’d stay in his practise room, in awe of his dancing while simultaneously reminding him of little things to make him look better.

This time, he didn’t have a second eye to watch over him. To point out what to correct when he didn’t notice, to tell him he was doing great when he kept beating himself up. Especially the latter half.

Jungwon knew he was hard on himself sometimes, but he was such a perfectionist that he didn’t care for it. He needed something, some kind of guilty pleasure or reminder that he was already doing good.

but after an hour of trying out moves he could use in the show, he stands in front of the mirror, hands on the barre as he looks at himself — sweaty, panting, lost.

He looks like he’s put in so much effort, physically, he’s done. but what he’d achieved so far in this session were a few empty dance moves with no real connection. He didn’t even have a song, for gods sakes.

What if he trips up on stage? Not the accidental, injury-type falls, but the ones where he forgets his piece or doesn’t do good enough to connect to the audience like he’s done last year, or the years prior to that.

What if he doesn’t meet up to the school’s expectation? This showcase made him practically highschool royalty, everyone and their mothers came to watch. Of course, for the other students’ performances as well, but the reactions he received? Basically overshadowed everyone else.

This was his last year. He even heard there’d be agents in the audience this time. Even ones from SM, and YGX not just the local dance studios.

Preparing for the showcase this time didn’t feel as effortless and fun anymore. No one to make him feel better when he forgot a move, or to make him laugh and distract him from the pressure.

screw it — why was he even missing you? he made a point in cutting you off, you weren’t good for him anymore.

not after what you did.

he walks out into the cold hallways of the school building, sweat still gleaming from his forehead and shirt clinging onto his frame. But his steps come to a halt when he remembers he left his bag in the music room.

He expects the lights to be off, as he casually strolls through the halls, lips puckered as he hums along to a random beat. When he gets there, what he doesn’t expect is you to be walking across the music room to her guitar, humming a melody.

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, as he finds himself frozen, watching your movements from the slit of the door.

You walk to the stool again where your guitar sits, taking off your AirPod and pausing the song on your phone. The melody stays in your head, as you mindlessly sing along, letting the lyrics linger to your lips.

Jungwon’s ears perk. Somehow, he hears your quiet, casual singing, and the lyrics, the melody, it all sounds perfect — perfect for the showcase.

That was pretty ironic.. the one year he cuts you off, you’re still the one who knows his music better than anyone else.

as he’s about to walk in, he suddenly gets interrupted by the rhythmic strumming of your guitar, and soft hums again that follow. Each time you sing, you’re stopping to review, and write a new lyric. He’s never even heard this song before, were you actually serious about this whole songwriting thing?

Jungwon didn't want to remember it, but seeing you like this reminds him of the times he’d stay at your house, while you sang random songs you learnt on the guitar for fun.

maybe he’s in some kind of trance, not realising how much he’s leaning against the door. because a second later, in the middle of you practising one verse, sounds of metal clanging and wood falling fill the quiet room.

“Shit-” Jungwon’s eyes widen, as he hurriedly enters the studio to pick it up, not bothering to apologise. you quickly make your way towards him, picking up the fallen cymbals and guitar stands.

You don’t look at him again, and it annoys him. Not how you ignore him, but how he’s looking at you, as if he’s trying to get you to notice him. Seeing you this close, he gets a view of all the details he had slowly forgotten about since the last time before he cut you off. The way your eyebrows slightly crease, lips pursed awkwardly, as your eyes and focus stayed glued onto picking up the equipment.

(There’s a reason you don’t look up at him, you physically can’t. because you don’t know what stupid thing you’ll do or say if you do turn your head up)

“..What are you doing here?” you ask, still looking down at the instruments, luckily, no damage.

Jungwon clears his throat, looking away before his voice turns high-pitched. “My gym bag. Uh.. I left it here.” you hate how awkward he sounds.

Your eyes follow his figure as he walks past you, but you turn back around to face your back towards him, pretending to fix the instruments he knocked over.

“Um.. what was that song you were singing..? earlier when.. before whatever you played on the guitar.” He asks awkwardly, like it’s taking all the pride in him, gulping it down, to ask this.

Whatever. The song meant for him on the guitar was just whatever.

“Earlier? Were you watching me?”

Jungwon feels his blood boil again, as he takes in a deep, shaky breath, before rolling his eyes. “Forget it.” He says, walking quickly past. This wasn’t worth getting his pride crushed.

“Yah—relax.” You scoff, nudging his shoulder, as Jungwon almost pushed past you to go through the door. The sudden contact makes him move back, avoiding your physicality.

and his move makes you put your hand down awkwardly, blinking and looking away. “Its.. ‘Monster’ by Shawn Mendes and Justin Bieber.” you read from your phone, showing the screen back to jungwon.

he doesn’t lean in to see the screen, even if he can’t really see it that clearly. It's like he doesn’t even want to step in your vicinity.

“Oh. Thanks.”

you almost want to scoff at his dryness, but you offer a tight-lipped smile, looking away awkwardly.

he walks past, not even sparing you a glance, his chin held up high with an arrogance to his expression you want to slap off.

you close your eyes again, taking a deep inhale to stop yourself from cursing him out as the door shuts. When you go back to your seat, you only see your lyric sheet and pencil there. Which is weird because, you could’ve sworn you had the poster to the showcase right there.

Jungwon stares at the poster in his hands as he steps outside, a sharp glare in his eyes before crumpling it in his fist.

He knows he shouldn’t have stolen from you, but he couldn’t care less.

Because he still recalls the sight he caught when he was grabbing his PE clothes earlier, on a pin board in the back of the music room,

Talent Show Applicants

..

2. Yang Jungwon

..

7. L/n Y/n

your name, right there, staring at him like a challenge. the showcase that was practically all about him, that was his turf, his stage.

and he had to share it with you. He couldn't have that happen, not when he was trying to erase you from his life. and this would be his last straw, he swears on that.

❪ OO1 TAGLIST ❫ OPEN! fill in this google form, send an ask or comment on this post to be added! 🐇🪽 @sunsunl0ver @gardenwons @suneng @alisonyus @jiiyen @sumzysworld @secretlyapartofthisfandom @starbyeol9014 @t1iqaa @rikidaze idontrleeknow @blvengene @sammie217 @cupiddolle @doublebunv lovewonsall @nonononranghaee @finnbbl @isoobie jeankirsteinsbeard @haestuffs @lynnlynnyuuashh @engene12z 4ngelized @jellyluv4eva @human1errorth1ngs @choppedballoondetective @ikeuwon @cokewithcameron