Unspoken Storm

Bound by Duty (Bang Chan)

~~~ I have fought battles, braved storms, and faced the darkest nights, but nothing has ever made my heart race like the way you look at me. You are my greatest victory, my sweetest surrender, and the only home I will ever need. ~~~

Synopsis: You are caught between your duty to the kingdom and your forbidden love for the king’s highest knight, Sir Bang Chan. As tensions between rival realms rise and the threat of war looms ever closer, your dangerous romance ignites like wildfire, risking everything you hold dear.

Word Count: 23k

Tw/Cw: MINORS DNI. NSFW, cursing, unprotected sex (no glove, no love), bang chan is a simp, one bed trope (sorry, not sorry), fingering, slight dom!chan, virgin!reader, slight violence, death threats, kidnapping, kinda slow burn??? (like they love each other, but duty comes first kinda thing.

Note: I literally poured my heart and soul into this, so enjoy!

Requests Masterlist

You stood at the highest balcony of the castle, the cool evening breeze whispering through your silk gown. Below, the kingdom stretched for miles, the golden fields of wheat swaying under the dying light of the sun. From this height, the world looked peaceful.

But you knew better.

The halls of the castle echoed with tension. War loomed on the horizon like a shadow creeping ever closer, dark and inevitable. Scouts returned with reports of enemy forces gathering at the borders, their numbers growing by the day. Whispers of betrayal lingered in the corridors, and even the bravest of knights no longer spoke of victory—only survival.

And yet, amidst it all, the king still found time to plan your future.

Your betrothal had been finalized weeks ago, a political move disguised as duty. Prince Taeyong of the Northern Territories was to be your husband, a man you had never met but whose name was carved into the fate of the kingdom. Your marriage would solidify an alliance, combining armies, fortifying borders. A necessity, your father had said. A blessing, your maid had reassured.

A prison, you thought.

You gripped the railing, your knuckles turning white. You had never known love—true love—but you knew enough to recognize what this was not. The weight of expectation crushed you, the knowledge that your life was not your own. You were a pawn in a game you had never asked to play, your heart a sacrifice in the name of power.

Your mother had warned you years ago, when you were just a child clinging to the idea of fairytales and freedom. A princess does not choose whom she loves. She chooses what is best for the kingdom.

But what if what was best for the kingdom was not best for you?

The sound of armored footsteps in the courtyard below drew you from your thoughts. Your tilted your head, watching as the knights gathered for their evening drills, their swords gleaming under the torchlight. They moved with precision, bodies honed for war, minds sharpened for battle. They would be the first to ride out when war finally arrived. The first to die.

Your stomach twisted.

You turned away from the sight, stepping back into the dim glow of your chambers. The room was grand, adorned with silken drapes and gold-threaded tapestries, but it felt suffocating. Every inch of it a reminder of the life you could not escape.

A life where your heart did not belong to you.

A life where you could not love who you truly loved.

And soon, a life where war would decide everything.

That night, you lay awake in your chambers, staring at the ceiling as the candlelight flickered against the stone walls. Sleep refuses to come. It never does, not when your mind is a battlefield of thoughts you cannot silence.

Tomorrow, you will meet your betrothed.

The thought makes your chest tighten.

Taeyong of the North. A name you’ve only heard in whispers, spoken with either fear or grudging respect. A man known more for his conquests than his kindness. His kingdom is built on war, his soldiers bred for battle. He is the kind of ruler your father admires—ruthless, cunning, a man who does not flinch at the thought of bloodshed.

Will he see you as anything more than a transaction? A pawn in this grand game of power?

You turn onto your side, fingers curling into the silk sheets. Somewhere beyond the castle walls, the world carries on. In the villages, merchants barter, children play in the streets, lovers hold hands beneath the moonlight. A life you will never know.

A soft knock at your door makes you sit up. It’s late—too late for a servant.

“Come in,” you call, smoothing out the wrinkles in your nightgown.

The heavy wooden door creaks open, and a familiar figure steps inside.

Sir Bang Chan.

He enters without hesitation, though he removes his helmet as a sign of respect. His dark hair is damp with sweat from the evening drills, his tunic slightly loose at the collar. He is a knight—one of the finest in your father’s service. A warrior who belongs on the battlefield, not in the chambers of a princess.

And yet, here he stands.

“Your Highness,” he greets, his voice steady. But there is something in his eyes—something he masks well but can never quite hide. A storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Sir Bang Chan,” you reply, keeping your voice composed. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he admits. He hesitates for a moment before stepping further inside, closing the door behind him. “I needed to see you.”

Your heart stutters.

He shouldn’t be here. You both know it. But the truth is, you want him here. More than you can ever admit.

“What is it?” you ask, though you already know.

His jaw clenches. “The war is moving faster than we anticipated. Scouts reported enemy forces less than two days from the border.”

The war. The ever-looming war.

“And my betrothal?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales sharply. “It will happen. The king insists it must, to secure the alliance.”

A silence stretches between you.

You look at him then, truly look at him. The way his hands curl into fists at his sides. The way his shoulders tense as if he’s holding back words he can never say.

The way his eyes—so dark, so full of unspoken things—linger on your lips before snapping back to your gaze.

Something inside you cracks.

“What if I don’t want this?” you whisper.

Chan lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You think I don’t know that?” He steps closer, just a fraction, just enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. “Do you think I want to watch you be given away like a prize to a man who doesn’t deserve you?”

Your breath hitches. “Then stop it.”

His eyes darken. “You know I can’t.”

Because duty binds you both. Because love—true love—is a privilege neither of you can afford.

But in that moment, with war on the horizon and your fate slipping through your fingers, you wonder.

Will you let the world decide for you?

Or will you dare to defy it?

The silence between you is thick, suffocating. The weight of everything—war, duty, desire—hangs in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Chan stands close, too close. The dim candlelight casts shadows across his face, sharpening the angles of his jaw, the determination in his eyes. He has always been composed, disciplined. But right now, you see the cracks beneath the surface.

He is unraveling.

And so are you.

“Tell me to walk away,” he says, his voice low, rough with something dangerous.

You swallow hard. “You know I can’t.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, something raw. His hands clench at his sides like he’s holding himself back from doing something reckless, something irreversible.

“Then what do you want me to do?” he asks, frustration bleeding into his tone. “Watch you marry him? Stand by as he takes you away, knowing you’ll never be happy? Knowing you—” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening.

You don’t dare breathe.

“Say it,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Don’t do this to me, Y/N.”

But it’s already too late.

Because you’ve seen it—the way he looks at you, the way his walls crack when he is near you. You’ve felt it in every stolen glance, every fleeting touch, every moment where the world fades and it’s just you and him.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters, turning away, running a hand through his dark hair.

And just like that, the moment shatters.

The reality of your situation crashes down on you like a tidal wave. Tomorrow, you will meet your betrothed. Tomorrow, you will be bound to a man you do not love. Tomorrow, this—you and him—will no longer exist.

Unless…

Your breath comes faster as a reckless thought takes hold.

“Come with me.”

Chan freezes.

Slowly, he turns, his eyes searching yours, as if he isn’t sure he heard you right. “What?”

“Come with me,” you repeat, your heart pounding. “Let’s leave. Tonight.”

His expression darkens, a mixture of shock, anger, and something dangerously close to hope. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “You don’t.”

“I do.” You step forward, reaching for his hand before you can second-guess yourself. The contact sends a jolt up your spine, his warmth grounding you, anchoring you. “If I stay, I will be nothing more than a prisoner in a golden cage. I will marry a man I don’t love. I will be sent away to a foreign land where I will never see you again.” Your grip tightens. “And you will go to war. You will fight for a kingdom that does not care about you, a king who sees you as nothing more than a weapon.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You’ll die for them,” you whisper. “And I will live a life I never wanted.”

Chan’s breathing is uneven now, his fingers twitching against yours. He is breaking, you can see it.

And you want him to.

Because you need him to.

“Please,” you murmur.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. The weight of the world sits between you, the consequences of this decision pressing down like a blade against your throats.

Then—

A sharp knock at the door.

You both jolt apart.

“Your Highness,” comes the voice of a guard. “Your father requests your presence immediately.”

Your stomach drops.

Chan steps back, his expression shifting instantly—cold, unreadable, the perfect soldier once again.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he says quietly. But there’s something different in his voice now, something uncertain.

You nod, though you aren’t sure if later will ever come.

Because as you leave your chambers, you can’t shake the feeling that something is about to change.

Something big.

And it might already be too late to stop it.

You walk down the hall in silence, the weight of the guard's footsteps echoing in the stone corridor, a cold reminder of the world outside these walls. Your pulse still races, each beat a reminder of the words you almost spoke, the decisions you almost made.

You reach the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest. The doors swing open with a heavy groan, and the chill of the grand chamber greets you. Your father, the king, sits at his throne, his sharp eyes trained on you as you approach. He is always so composed, a king who never shows his hand. But tonight, the tension is palpable. The air is thick with something that doesn’t feel like the usual state affairs.

"You’ve kept me waiting, Y/N," your father’s voice booms. The power in it is unmistakable, a force that has shaped your entire life.

“I apologize, Father,” you reply, lowering your head in respect, though every fiber of your being wants to rebel, to scream that you’re not ready for what’s coming.

The king’s gaze softens for a fleeting second, before he speaks again, his tone darker now. “Taeyong arrives tomorrow. He is the key to securing our kingdom’s future. The alliance will strengthen us against the northern tribes. Do you understand?”

You nod, trying to keep your emotions in check, though inside, you feel as if your world is unraveling.

“I understand, Father.”

But you don’t. How could you? How could anyone expect you to understand a future where your heart is chained to a man you do not love?

Your father leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “This is your duty. Our kingdom’s fate rests on this union. And I will not have you defy me, do you hear me?”

You swallow, trying to suppress the trembling in your hands. “Yes, Father.”

The king stands, his movement commanding the room. “Good. Tomorrow will be the beginning of your new life, Y/N. And you will be ready.”

He steps toward you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, and for a moment, the weight of his expectations crushes you. You want to tell him how you feel, how the weight of this impending marriage feels like a death sentence, but you don’t.

Because in this moment, you realize something that terrifies you: You don’t have a choice.

The doors swing open again, and a guard enters with urgent news. Your father’s face darkens as the man speaks, his words clipped and quick.

“Your Highness, scouts have reported an enemy force approaching from the south. It’s only a matter of days before they arrive at the border.”

The blood drains from your face.

War is closer than ever. The looming dread that’s been following you for weeks now feels more real, more immediate.

Your father looks at you for a long moment, his expression hard. “This alliance with Taeyong must succeed. It’s the only way to secure the kingdom’s future. If we cannot unite, we risk everything.”

The weight of his words hits you with an almost physical force. But as you look at him—your king, your father—you can’t help but feel trapped. The walls are closing in on you. Tomorrow, your life will change, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The decision you made earlier, in the quiet of your chambers, resurfaces.

Come with me, Chan.

The thought pulses in your mind, frantic and urgent, like a lifeline thrown in the middle of a storm.

But now, as you stand in your father’s throne room, that same thought is drowned out by the roar of impending war. The weight of your duty presses down on you again. The reality of what it means to be a princess—the weight of a crown you never asked for, the price of your freedom—has never been clearer.

You want to run. You want to flee from this life, from this kingdom, from everything that has been forced upon you.

But as the door closes behind you, you realize that escape is a dream you cannot afford.

The next morning, as you prepare for the meeting with Taeyong, you can’t shake the image of Chan’s eyes—the way they softened when he stood in front of you last night, the way he hesitated when you asked him to run. He’s a warrior, yes, but there’s a softness in him, something that makes you wonder if he, too, feels the pull of something more than duty.

But your duty to your people will always come first.

Or will it?

The next morning, the castle is alive with preparations for the arrival of Taeyong. Servants rush through the hallways, the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat filling the air as you walk through the corridors, your mind a storm of conflicting thoughts.

You’re in your chambers, standing before a mirror, watching as your maid adjusts the lace at your collar. The weight of the dress feels heavier today, like the fabric is pulling you further into a life you never chose.

“Your Highness,” the maid says softly, her voice hesitant, “may I ask… Are you feeling well today? You seem… troubled.”

You force a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, Bom. Just a little tired.”

She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press further. As she finishes your attire, the door opens without a knock, and in steps your father’s trusted advisor, Lord Hwang. He’s a tall man with sharp features, always impeccably dressed, his eyes cold and calculating.

“Princess Y/N,” he greets, bowing slightly. “It’s almost time for you to meet the Prince. Your father is expecting you at the gates.”

You nod stiffly, your stomach tightening. “Thank you, Lord Hwang. I’ll be there shortly.”

As he leaves, you can’t help but glance out the window, your thoughts drifting back to the night before. Bang Chan’s words echo in your mind, the conflict in his voice when you asked him to leave with you. You hadn’t even told him you were serious—he didn’t have the luxury of hope in this world, not like you did.

“Come with me,” you whisper to yourself, as though saying the words aloud might make them real. But you know it’s a fantasy, an impossible dream. There’s no escaping this.

You step into the hallway, where a line of soldiers stand at attention, their eyes straight ahead. None of them make eye contact with you, but you can feel their gazes—cold, unfeeling, like you’re nothing more than a princess they serve, not a woman with her own desires.

As you walk towards the gates, the familiar path feels different. The walls seem taller, the ground harder beneath your feet. When you reach the courtyard, the sight of Taeyong’s approaching party sends a shiver down your spine.

He is tall, his figure imposing. His black armor glints in the morning sun as he dismounts from his horse. His eyes, cold as steel, lock onto yours as you approach.

“Princess Y/N,” he says, his voice low and commanding, though there is a hint of a smile on his lips. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

You force yourself to smile, nodding. “The honor is mine, Prince Taeyong.”

His smile widens as he steps forward, towering over you. “Please, call me Taeyong. The title of prince is far too formal for what’s about to come.”

Your stomach turns at his words, but you don’t let it show. You extend your hand for him to kiss, a gesture of formality you’ve done a thousand times, though this time, it feels like a betrayal. His lips brush your knuckles, and the sensation sends a cold chill through you.

Behind you, your father steps forward, clapping Taeyong on the back. “Welcome, my friend,” King Taemin says. “We are grateful for your presence. Let’s discuss the future over breakfast.”

As the two men walk side by side, speaking in low voices about alliances and kingdoms, you find yourself lingering behind, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.

You can feel eyes on you. Cold, judgmental eyes.

And then, a voice.

“Princess.”

You turn quickly, and your heart leaps in your chest.

Bang Chan.

He’s standing near the stables, his armor gleaming under the sun, his stance rigid as always. But his eyes are locked on yours, filled with something unreadable. You quickly look away, not wanting to be seen staring.

“Sir Bang Chan,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. “What are you doing here?”

He steps forward, his eyes scanning the courtyard before meeting yours again. “I was sent to keep watch. The enemy could strike at any moment, and I need to be prepared.”

You nod, but there’s a coldness between you now, a distance you both refuse to cross. You can see it in his eyes—the same conflict you feel. Duty. Honor. And the secret longing neither of you can admit.

“You should return to your post,” you say, forcing a tight smile. “I’m sure my father will want you by his side.”

Chan doesn’t move, his gaze never leaving yours. “Princess, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t keep pretending that this is all just about duty. I care for you more than I should. And I can’t watch you marry him.”

His words hit you like a physical blow, and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You want to say something, anything, but the fear of what might happen next silences you.

“You think I don’t know?” you whisper, taking a step closer. “You think I haven’t thought about it every day? The way I feel about you…”

You pause, your heart racing. “But we can’t. We can’t be together. The world won’t allow it. We have our places, our roles. You’re a knight. I’m a princess. And I’m about to marry a man I don’t love.”

Chan’s eyes darken, but his expression is pained. “Then why are we standing here?”

You swallow hard, your voice shaking. “Because there’s nothing we can do. The war is coming, and everything will change whether we’re ready or not.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Then let it change. Let it.”

You shake your head, the tears you’ve been holding back threatening to spill. “It’s too late. The kingdom needs me. My father needs me. And Taeyong—he’s part of the plan.”

Chan looks at you for a long moment, his face torn with emotion. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd of soldiers preparing for the worst.

You stand there for a long time, the words left unsaid hanging in the air, heavy and suffocating. The reality of the choices before you presses down on your chest, and for the first time, you wonder if this will be the last time you ever see him.

As the day stretches on, your heart feels like it's being pulled in two different directions. The castle is brimming with activity, preparations for the arrival of Taeyong only adding to the mounting pressure. You can’t escape the constant hum of voices and the shuffle of soldiers, and every glance from those around you feels like a reminder of what’s to come.

You stand near the grand hall, watching as the last of the decorations are placed, the scent of roses filling the air. Your father is already in the hall, speaking with Taeyong and his advisors. The thought of the union—the betrothal you never asked for, the life you never wanted—threatens to drown you.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Chan. The words he spoke to you earlier repeat in your mind like a broken record.

I care for you more than I should. And I can’t watch you marry him.

His confession lingers in the air between you even now, like an unspoken promise. You’ve never felt this torn, and the reality of it sinks in deeper with every passing minute.

“Princess?”

You turn, startled, to find Lord Hwang standing behind you, his eyes sharp as ever. “The king requests your presence.”

You nod, though your stomach churns. The weight of your decision sits heavily on your chest, and yet, there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s already too late to turn back.

The hall is grand, as always, but today, the walls seem to close in on you. Your father, King Taemin, stands at the center, his back straight and imposing as he speaks with Taeyong. The two men are deep in conversation, and your father’s laugh rings out—a sound that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Princess Y/N,” Taeyong says, turning as you approach. His voice is smooth, almost rehearsed. But there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach twist. “I trust you’re feeling well this morning?”

What a fucking prick. You force yourself to smile, though it feels like a mask. “Yes, thank you, Prince Taeyong.”

“You’ve been quiet today,” he notes, his voice laced with something dangerous. “I understand. A woman of your beauty and status must feel the pressure of the eyes upon her.”

You swallow, the words coming out in a strained breath. “I suppose I’ve always been under pressure.”

Taeyong steps closer, just a little too close. The scent of his cologne fills your senses, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing down on you. He’s always been polite, but today, there’s something more. His gaze lingers a moment too long, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

Before you can say anything else, there’s a sudden commotion by the entrance.

You turn sharply to see Chan standing at the doorway, his figure cutting through the crowd like a blade. He’s dressed in full armor, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on you. His eyes, dark and conflicted, lock onto yours, and for a split second, the noise of the room fades.

Your heart lurches in your chest, but you quickly look away, afraid of what might happen if you don’t.

Chan strides forward, his expression unreadable, until he stands at your side, his presence a stark contrast to the cold politeness of Taeyong.

“My lady,” Chan says, bowing slightly. His voice is steady, but the tension in his tone is unmistakable.

You feel the air thicken. Taeyong looks between you and Chan, his smile faltering for just a second, and then returning with more force.

“Ah, Sir Bang Chan,” Taeyong greets him with a forced politeness, his tone barely veiling the subtle challenge. “A knight in shining armor. Always a pleasure.”

Chan doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just stands there, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a quiet storm brewing between you both—silent, but intense.

Your heart beats faster, and a knot forms in your throat. You want to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words are stuck.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Sir Bang Chan?” Taeyong asks, his voice laced with thinly veiled irritation.

You see it then—the way Chan’s jaw tightens, the barely restrained anger behind his eyes. But when he speaks, his tone is calm, almost too calm. “I’m here to ensure that the castle is properly secured. My duty is to protect, not to engage in politics.”

You almost breathe a sigh of relief at his restraint, but then the tension shifts. It’s in the way his eyes flicker to you, the way he holds himself back, knowing that the moment he says too much, everything will change.

"Of course," Taeyong says, his voice laced with mock sweetness. "Duty first, always."

You can feel the undercurrent of hostility between them, a quiet but potent rivalry. It’s not just political; there’s something personal about it. And you’re caught in the middle, trapped in a game you never wanted to play.

Taeyong looks at you again, his gaze lingering with an unsettling intensity. "I trust we'll have a proper discussion later, Princess. After all, we have much to talk about, don't we?"

You try to keep your face neutral, but his words feel like a weight pressing down on your chest. This isn’t just about duty anymore—it’s about control. His control over you, over your future, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Chan takes a step closer to you, his arm brushing against yours in a brief but undeniable touch. The contact sends a shock through your body, and for a moment, you almost forget about the others in the room. You look at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some glimmer of hope.

But instead, you see the pain in his expression, the resignation that mirrors your own.

“We’ll talk later, Princess,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. And then he turns, his footsteps heavy as he walks away, back into the throng of soldiers and advisors.

You watch him go, your heart aching with a mixture of fear and longing.

And then Taeyong steps forward again, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You look troubled, Princess. Is there something I can do to ease your mind?”

You meet his gaze, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. “I don’t believe so, Prince Taeyong.”

But even as you say the words, you know that the storm is far from over. And soon, it will break.

Bang Chan's POV

Chan strides through the grand hall, his armor clinking with every step, though the sound does little to mask the heavy weight pressing down on his chest. His heart is pounding—raging—and it's all he can do to keep from snapping. He knows he shouldn’t have stayed. He knows it was damn stupid to let his feelings spill out in front of her, to risk everything for a moment of honesty.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

He had seen the way she looked at him. The way her eyes flickered when their gazes met. For just a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Like everything that chained them down—war, duty, her betrothal—had all faded away. And it was just them, caught in that fleeting second of truth.

But now? Now, reality’s crashing back down, hard.

He exhales a frustrated breath, fingers running through his curly brown hair. His boots echo on the stone floor like the ticking of a clock—each step taking him farther away from her, farther away from the choice he should’ve made.

He should’ve walked away.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Chan,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”

His thoughts spin in endless circles, each one getting more tangled, more painful. He knows what he has to do. The kingdom needs him. His oath to the king is clear. He has no right to her. She’s a princess, and he’s just some damn knight.

But goddamn it, it doesn’t feel that way. Not when he looks at her.

He reaches the stables and stops in front of his horse, the stable hand standing by nervously. Chan nods at him but doesn’t stop to say anything. Instead, he mounts his horse in silence, his muscles tense, his mind still stuck on her.

Y/N.

His hand grips the reins too tightly, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched. He tries to shake off the anger, the pain, but it’s all still there, gnawing at him.

He should’ve never spoken those words to her. He should’ve never told her he cared. She doesn’t need that weight. She’s already trapped by the chains of her life—betrothed to Taeyong, the looming war, the expectations of a kingdom that only sees her as a bargaining chip. She doesn’t need some knight—some fool like him—complicating everything.

But the truth is, he can’t stop. He never could. Every time he’s near her, he feels it—like some electric current, something raw and untamed, pulling him toward her. The way she looks at him, the way her eyes hold this fire that matches his own. He can’t turn it off. He can’t shut it out.

“Damn it,” he hisses under his breath, urging his horse into motion. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the cobblestone is the only noise in the otherwise empty courtyard.

His mind wanders back to the scene in the hall, the way Taeyong had looked at him. The way the prince was just a little too smug, like he owned her. And the way Y/N had stood there, quiet, her eyes full of things she couldn’t say—things Chan couldn’t hear, but could feel deep down. It tore at him.

The damn prince wasn’t good for her. But he wasn’t the one who would get to choose.

“Focus,” Chan mutters to himself as he rides toward the outer gates. “Don’t be an idiot.”

But the more he tries to focus on the mission ahead—the war, the kingdom, his duty—the more his thoughts keep circling back to her.

Y/N.

He hates it.

And he knows it’s only going to get worse. The knot in his chest tightens, and it feels like everything’s breaking down.

As Chan rides out of the castle grounds and into the open fields, he finally slows his horse. The wind against his face does little to ease the storm inside him.

Why the hell does it have to be like this?

Why the hell can’t he just be the man she needs?

He should’ve walked away. He should’ve kept his damn mouth shut and kept being the knight he’s supposed to be. But no—he had to let it all out.

“Fuck,” he growls, kicking his horse into a faster gallop.

The motion isn’t enough to outrun the thoughts, though. He’s still thinking about her—the way she looked at him, the pain in her eyes. She wants something more than what she’s being given. And maybe—just maybe—she wants him, too.

But it doesn’t matter. She’s going to marry Taeyong, and that’s the end of it. She’ll never choose him. He’s just a soldier, and she’s a princess.

A knight like him doesn’t get to have the girl.

But goddamn, does it hurt.

Hours later, after the war council has ended, the tension in the castle is palpable. The air is thick with anticipation—war on the horizon, the betrothal looming—and Chan finds himself standing alone in the training yard, his sword drawn.

The practice dummies stand in front of him, but it’s like he’s seeing them through a fog. He slashes the sword through the air, his strikes sharp and controlled, but the anger doesn’t leave. It’s there, coiled tight in his chest, and no matter how many times he swings, it only tightens.

“Damn it!” he yells as he drives the sword into the wooden target, the sound of it echoing through the empty yard.

He stands there for a long moment, panting. The adrenaline is wearing off, but the pain is still there. His breath is uneven, his heart hammering in his chest.

“You’re not going to fix anything by swinging a sword,” he mutters to himself.

But it’s the only thing that’s keeping him from breaking down right here.

He stares at the practice dummy, his grip tight on the hilt of the sword. His thoughts are a mess—thoughts of her, of the war, of the kingdom that has him shackled. All of it.

He wants to scream. He wants to break something.

“Damn it,” he mutters again, his voice cracking as he lowers the sword.

Nothing makes sense anymore. It’s all slipping through his fingers, like sand.

And he can’t do a thing to stop it.

Your POV

The days stretch out before you like an endless expanse, each one heavier than the last. The castle feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation—of the war that looms closer with each passing day, of your betrothal that you cannot escape. The weight of it all presses down on you, until you can barely breathe.

You were born into this life, one of duty, of responsibility, of alliances forged before you had even learned how to speak. Your marriage to Taeyong has been set for years, a union that will strengthen kingdoms and ensure peace. The thought of it stirs nothing but a deep ache in your chest. You’ve seen the way the people around you talk about him, how they admire his strength, his power. But none of them see what you see. They don’t know what it’s like to be trapped by your bloodline, to be expected to put your heart aside for the sake of an entire kingdom.

You can already hear the laughter from the hall below, the celebration in full swing. Everyone is preparing for the union. The prince, the one who will be your future husband, has already arrived. His presence is undeniable, his name on everyone’s lips. He is the kind of ruler everyone expects you to want. But you don’t. You never have.

You pull your gaze from the window, the distant stars barely visible behind the thick, swirling clouds. You know what’s coming—your betrothal, the prince’s arrival at the ceremony. But none of that changes the fact that your heart keeps drifting back to the one man you cannot have.

Chan.

Your feet carry you silently down the hallways, your mind racing. You can hear your own heart pounding, each step feeling heavier than the last. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know he’s not supposed to be in your life the way he is. He’s a knight, a warrior—his duty is to your father, to the kingdom. But that doesn’t change the truth.

He’s been your constant, a reminder of everything you could have had if the world had been different.

When you see him standing there, his figure cutting through the shadows of the corridor, you can feel your breath hitch. You want to run to him, to close the distance between you, but you stop yourself. You know the consequences.

“Chan,” you whisper, your voice trembling more than you want it to.

He turns slowly, his eyes catching yours. There’s something in them—something broken, something raw. The air between you thickens with every passing second.

“What is it, Your Highness?” His voice comes out rough, as though he’s holding back words that could shatter everything.

You step closer, the world shrinking with each movement you make toward him. “You’re leaving soon,” you say, the words falling from your lips before you can stop them. “I don’t want to see you go.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks at you, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for who you truly are. Not the princess, not the daughter of the king, but the woman who is desperate to be free.

“You should,” he says quietly, his voice tight. “You’ve got a future waiting for you. A future with him. With Taeyong. You have a kingdom to save.”

His words stab deep, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to look away. “And what if that future isn’t what I want? What if I want something else?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries the weight of every emotion you’ve tried to bury for so long.

Chan’s gaze softens, his jaw tightening as if he’s fighting with himself. “You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice strained. “I’m not the one you should want. You have everything you need already. You’re bound to him. You’re—”

You don’t let him finish. “No. I’m bound to nothing but the duty they’ve placed on me. I’m not his, and I never will be.”

There’s a moment of silence, a stillness that feels unbearable. You step even closer, your hands reaching for him before you can think better of it. His hand trembles slightly as it brushes against yours, and for a moment, you both just stand there, caught in that unspoken understanding.

“Please,” you murmur, your voice breaking.

He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. He takes a slow step back, his hand slipping from yours, and the distance between you both feels like a chasm. “You can’t ask me to stay,” he says, the words heavy with finality. “You have a life, a future, a kingdom that needs you. I can’t be the one who drags you away from all of that.”

“But what if I don’t care about any of that?” The question hangs between you, thick with the truth neither of you can deny.

He shakes his head, his eyes filled with frustration and something deeper, something more painful. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

And in that moment, as you stand there, you know he’s right. He’s right, and it breaks you.

The sounds of the castle fade into the background as you make your way back to your chambers, the weight of the decision already beginning to settle on your shoulders. You try to ignore the questions swirling in your mind, the urge to run, to leave it all behind. But it isn’t that simple. It never was.

You glance one last time at the window, the stars now completely hidden behind the storm clouds that have gathered. The war is still out there, and your betrothal is still waiting to happen. Your future is set in stone, whether you like it or not.

But what if there’s another way? What if you and Chan—what if you could leave it all behind?

The thought lingers in your mind, but even as you entertain the possibility, you know how dangerous it is. The consequences of disobedience are dire. The kingdom, your father, the prince—they’ll never let you go.

But your heart doesn’t care.

Your heart is already somewhere far away, with a man who could never truly be yours.

The night stretches on, and you can't seem to escape the thoughts that have taken root in your mind. As you sit alone in your chamber, the silence feels suffocating, broken only by the soft flicker of the candlelight. The castle, with its stone walls and corridors filled with echoes of voices long gone, feels like a prison. The weight of your duty, your future, hangs over you like a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate.

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breath, but your thoughts keep racing back to him—Chan. The way his eyes softened when he spoke to you, the unspoken words that lingered between you like an invisible thread, binding you together even as he stepped away. You can still feel the heat of his touch, the way his hand trembled when it brushed against yours. It was a reminder that, despite the distance, despite the kingdom that demanded everything of you, something else was possible. Something forbidden.

But is it worth the risk?

The war is coming, and every day that passes brings you closer to the decision you don’t want to make. The decision to marry a man you don’t love, to give yourself away for the good of your kingdom. Taeyong, the prince. His face is still so fresh in your mind—his confident smile, his regal posture—but all you feel when you think of him is cold indifference. He’s everything your father wants. Everything the kingdom wants. But he’s not the man you need. He doesn’t see you. Not truly. Not like Chan does.

You pull yourself from your thoughts, standing and pacing the room restlessly. You can't stay here. Not tonight. Not when everything feels like it’s unraveling, not when your heart is torn between two impossible choices.

As you make your way toward the door, your mind races with a single thought.

You need to see him again. You need to hear his voice, to feel his presence beside you, just one last time before everything changes.

You move quickly through the halls, the flickering torchlight casting shadows that dance along the stone walls. You don’t stop to think. You don’t give yourself the chance to hesitate.

You reach the training building, the familiar scent of leather and iron filling your senses. The sounds of the castle are distant here, the quiet broken only by the occasional whisper of wind against the stone. You spot him almost immediately—his broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim light as he practices with his sword, his movements fluid and precise, the anger in each strike as sharp as the blade in his hand.

You should turn back. You should leave him to his duty. But you can't.

You can’t leave him.

“Chan,” you say, your voice louder this time, as you step into his line of sight.

He pauses, his sword held still in midair. For a moment, you think he might turn away. But instead, his gaze shifts to you, and in that one glance, you feel everything—the tension, the unspoken desire, the guilt—come crashing down on both of you. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but you can see the conflict in them. The struggle he’s been carrying. The same one you’ve been carrying.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, guarded.

You take a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t pretend anymore.” You pause, searching his eyes for something, anything. “I need to know if you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lowers his sword, stepping toward you. The space between you narrows, but his expression remains unreadable. “You know I do,” he finally says, his voice soft but steady. “But it’s not that simple, Y/N. You’re the princess. You’re betrothed to Taeyong. Your duty isn’t just to yourself.”

“I don’t care about my duty,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Not when it means giving up everything I want.”

Chan’s gaze softens, and he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours but pausing just before contact, as if unsure whether to continue or pull away. “You’re asking me to make a choice I can’t. We both know that.”

Your chest tightens, the pain of the truth settling in like a heavy weight. “Then what do we do? I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry him. I can’t marry someone I don’t love, Chan. I can’t do this alone.”

“Then come with me,” he says suddenly, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. His voice is raw, desperate, as if he’s finally giving in to the one thing he’s held back for so long. “Leave with me. We can disappear. We can be free of all of this.”

You stare at him, your heart racing. The idea, the possibility, is almost too much to bear. To leave everything behind. The war. The kingdom. Your family. The responsibility that’s been drummed into you since birth.

“I can’t,” you whisper. “I have too much to lose.”

His face falls, the lines of frustration deepening around his eyes. “And what about me? What do I lose if you go? What do I lose if I stay and watch you marry him?” His voice cracks, and you can hear the pain in it. “I’ve already lost you before we even had a chance.”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The storm inside you swells, and you can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you feel is him—the rawness of his words, the intensity of the emotions flooding through you. He’s right. You’ve already lost him, haven’t you? You’ve already let fate steal away what could have been.

But is it too late to fight for it? Too late to change the course of your future?

You look at Chan, the man who has seen you for who you truly are, and for the first time in days, you make a decision.

“Let’s run,” you say, your voice trembling but certain. “Let’s leave now. Before it’s too late.”

For a second, there’s nothing but silence. Then, he steps closer, his hand finding yours at last. The warmth of his touch is the only thing that matters now, the only thing that feels real.

But as you stand there, the weight of the world still presses down on you. The war is still coming. The kingdom still demands its price.

You stand in front of Chan, the space between you filled with so much unsaid tension it feels like the air itself is charged. His eyes search yours, but there’s something deeper there, something raw, something that neither of you can escape anymore. You’ve been dancing around it for so long, trying to deny it, trying to bury it beneath duty and expectation, but in this moment, all of it fades into nothingness.

The weight of your responsibility, of the future that awaits you, is still there, but it feels distant now. The world feels distant. All that matters is the man standing in front of you.

“What are you going to do?” His voice is low, tight, as though he’s trying to keep himself in control, but you see through it. You see the struggle, the pain, the desire.

“I don't know,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “I just couldn’t pretend anymore.”

For a moment, his gaze hardens, as if he’s trying to push back the urge to pull you close. He clenches his jaw, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. But even that feels like a battle he’s losing. “You can’t keep doing this, Y/N,” he says, his words heavy with something he can’t name.

“I don’t care,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I can’t marry him. I can’t marry someone I don’t love.”

The silence between you both stretches out, and you can see the internal war raging in him. He looks at you like he’s trying to make a decision he knows he can’t. His eyes flicker between yours, his lips pressed into a thin line.

But then, all at once, the walls he’s built between you both crumble.

He takes a step toward you, his hand reaching for your face with a gentleness that makes your heart race. You don’t step back. Instead, you lean into his touch, your breath catching in your throat as his fingertips brush against your skin, sending a shiver through your entire body.

“Y/N…” His voice is barely a whisper, his breath hot against your lips. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You can’t answer. You don’t need to. Because in that moment, you both understand.

Without another word, he closes the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s fierce, desperate, and full of longing. All the frustration, the pain, the want you’ve both been holding back is unleashed in that single moment. His mouth moves against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away, his lips firm yet tender, as if he’s trying to pour all of his feelings into you in that one kiss.

Your hands move instinctively, reaching for his chest, your fingers trembling as you feel the heat of his body under the fabric of his tunic. He responds with equal urgency, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You can feel his heartbeat, wild and erratic beneath your fingertips, mirroring your own.

The kiss deepens, and everything around you fades away. There’s no kingdom, no war, no betrothal. There’s just him. Just you. The taste of him, the feel of him, the way his body presses against yours, is all that matters.

His hands move to your back, drawing you in even closer, as if he can’t get enough of you. His lips trail down to your jaw, his breath coming fast against your skin, and you close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of him—of the way he feels so right, so necessary, even in this chaos.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you gasping for breath, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of the kiss. You can’t look away from him. His eyes are dark, heavy with emotion, but there’s something else there too—something dangerous, something reckless.

He speaks your name, his voice hoarse, and you feel it like a plea, a whisper that cuts straight through you.

But it’s too late for words now.

Because this—this kiss—is everything you’ve both been holding back. And you know, deep down, that it’s only the beginning of something neither of you can control.

The room is thick with the heat of your shared breath, the air heavy with desire. You can feel it in the way Chan’s hands tremble as they rest on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as if he’s trying to anchor himself. Your heart beats faster, the moment suspended in time, neither of you knowing what to do next, or how far you can go before everything unravels.

You both stand there, breathless, bodies so close you can feel the heat radiating off each other. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed, as if trying to push back against the overwhelming pull between you. For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence, the tension between you thick and palpable.

He pulls back just slightly, enough to look at you, his eyes dark with emotion. “I want you,” he whispers, his voice strained, rough with need. “But this... we can’t do this. Not now. Not like this.”

The words hit you like a cold wave, crashing over the heat of the moment. You nod, even though every part of you wants to scream, wants to tell him that you don’t care about anything else right now. You only care about him, about this connection, this undeniable chemistry that pulls you closer with every passing second.

But you also know he’s right.

You can’t rush this. You can’t let your emotions drive you into something that will change everything. The kingdom, your duties, the war that’s coming—it’s all too much. You’re standing on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong move could send you both tumbling into a world neither of you can control.

“I know,” you breathe, your voice soft but firm. You reach up, your hand cupping his face, your thumb brushing over the line of his jaw. “I don’t want to lose myself in this moment. I want you, Chan. But... not like this.”

He exhales slowly, as if the weight of those words brings him some sort of relief. His hand moves to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you—no titles, no responsibilities, just two people who have shared something they can’t take back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words sounding like an apology but also like a promise. “I can’t... I can’t let this be something we regret. Not now.”

The honesty in his voice makes something inside you ache, a longing that feels both impossible and necessary. You want to press forward, to let your instincts take control, to let the walls you’ve built come crashing down. But deep down, you know he’s right. This isn’t the right time, and neither of you is in a place to surrender completely.

You nod again, your fingers tightening around his. “I know,” you repeat, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you feels heavy, but it’s also peaceful in a way—like a quiet understanding has settled between you. You’re not ready for this step, not with everything hanging over you. And yet, there’s a sense of something deeper, something that tells you this is just the beginning.

Chan’s gaze softens as he looks at you, and he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. His lips linger there, warm and tender, like a promise of things yet to come.

“We’ll have our time,” he murmurs, his breath against your skin making your heart skip. “But not now. Not when the world’s about to fall apart.”

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch ground you, as the reality of everything sinks in again—the war, your betrothal, the kingdom. But there’s something else there too. A spark. A connection that you can’t ignore, no matter how much the world tries to pull you apart.

Chan pulls back slightly, his hands still on your waist, but there’s a gentle, almost comforting distance between you now. The tension, while still present, feels more manageable—more like something you can handle together, without giving in to the heat of the moment.

You stand there, wrapped in the quiet of the room, the weight of the unsaid words heavy in the air. Chan’s touch lingers on your waist, warm and grounding, but the space between you has shifted. There’s a subtle tension now, the kind that isn’t immediately uncomfortable, but you both know it’s there—waiting, simmering beneath the surface.

His fingers gently trace along your arm, and you shiver at the contact, the sensation sparking a desire you can’t ignore. But you don’t move away. You don’t want to. The simple act of being close to him, without the urgency of the moment, feels like a small victory.

"I’m sorry," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t mean to... push things. But I don’t want to hurt you."

You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes. There’s a depth in them, something vulnerable, and you can see how much he’s holding back, the same way you are. You reach up, brushing your fingers lightly against his cheek, soothing the tension you feel radiating off him.

“You haven’t,” you reply softly. “I don’t regret it. I just... I don’t want this to be a mistake. I don’t want either of us to do something we’ll regret.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, and he leans in, just close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I don’t want to regret it either,” he admits, the words laced with sincerity. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. This isn’t just about us. It’s about everything.”

You know exactly what he means—the kingdom, the future that’s already written for you, the war brewing in the distance. The stakes are high, and neither of you can afford to make a decision based on something so fleeting, something so dangerous.

“I know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as his words settle deep in your chest. You lean into his touch again, just for a moment, the connection between you undeniable, despite the distance you’ve created between your bodies. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have something real. Something that’s just ours.”

For a second, Chan hesitates, as if considering your words, weighing them against the gravity of everything. He’s not a man who takes risks lightly—especially not with his duty, his honor, and certainly not with you.

But then, slowly, he nods. “Something real,” he echoes, as if testing the idea. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

The promise in his words stirs something inside you, a flicker of hope you can’t quite snuff out. Even in the chaos that awaits, even with all the obstacles that stand in your way, there’s something beautiful about the thought of finding something real with him—something that isn’t dictated by kingdoms or political alliances. Something that’s yours alone.

His hand slides down to yours, intertwining your fingers. The simple act grounds you, reminds you that no matter what happens, you aren’t alone in this. You have him. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough to keep you from drowning in the storm that’s approaching.

But then the door creaks open, and the world outside the room comes rushing back in. The sudden intrusion is like a cold bucket of water, dousing the warmth that had settled between you both.

A voice calls from the hallway, firm, urgent. “Your Highness, the king requests your presence.”

You exchange a glance with Chan, and for a brief moment, neither of you speaks. You both know that the real world—the one that demands sacrifices and decisions you’re not ready to make—has come knocking again.

Chan releases your hand gently, but his gaze doesn’t leave yours. “We’ll talk again, Y/N,” he says, his voice steady, though you can hear the tension still lingering beneath the surface.

You nod, unable to find the right words. The knot in your chest tightens as you turn toward the door, the weight of your future pressing down on you with every step. But as you reach for the door, you pause, glancing back at him.

For a brief moment, the world seems to disappear. The war, the betrothal, the responsibilities—it all fades into the background. There’s only you and Chan, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if maybe there’s a chance. A chance to change everything.

“I’ll be back,” you whisper.

Chan’s eyes soften, and he nods, though the uncertainty remains in his gaze. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, you step out of the room, back into the world that is pulling you away from everything you’ve ever wanted. But as the door closes behind you, you can still feel the warmth of his touch, the weight of his words, lingering in the air.

The night was unusually quiet, a stillness that hung heavy in the air, as though the castle itself was holding its breath. You had just finished your meeting with the king regarding the wedding that was taking tomorrow and had retired to your chambers. It felt as of the weight of the world pressing down on you with every step. The walls felt closer tonight, suffocating in their coldness, and the thought of tomorrow—of your arrangement with Prince Taeyong—gnawed at your insides.

But you had little time to think on it. The gentle knock at your door broke the silence, and you glanced up, a frown forming as you reached for the door.

"Who is it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness that had settled in your mind.

"It’s just me, Your Highness," came a soft, familiar voice. One of the guards, surely. "We’ve been instructed to make sure you’re safe tonight, due to reports of enemy activity near the borders."

You hesitated for a moment before slowly opening the door. "Very well," you murmured, stepping aside to let the guard in. The man was tall, his face obscured by the hood of his cloak. Two other guards stood behind him, equally cloaked in shadow.

Something about the scene felt off, but the exhaustion in your bones made you dismiss the unease. You were about to turn back to your room when the guard at the door stepped inside, closing it behind him with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion.

The moment the door clicked shut, a wave of panic surged through you. You didn’t have time to react before the guard at the door lunged toward you. His hands were quick, too quick, and before you could make a sound, he clamped a hand over your mouth, stifling any cry for help.

Your heart raced as the two other guards advanced, their hands grabbing you with ruthless efficiency. One of them yanked your arms behind your back, and you struggled, but their grip was too strong. The familiar scent of the castle’s stone walls and polished wood began to fade as you were dragged toward the hallway. Your mind raced, trying to piece together the situation.

Why were they here? What were they after?

Your breath quickened, panic rising in your chest, and just as you opened your mouth to scream, the guard’s hand tightened around your throat, cutting off the sound before it could escape.

"Quiet," he hissed in your ear. His voice was cold, foreign—unfamiliar. "We don’t want to hurt you, Princess. But we will if we have to."

The world blurred around you as they moved swiftly through the castle, past hallways and stairwells you knew too well, but they weren’t taking you in the direction of the exit. They weren’t leading you anywhere familiar. The unfamiliar chill of dread crept through your veins as you realized this was no routine guard shift. Something far more sinister was happening.

Minutes later, you were thrown into a dark, cold room, the door slamming shut behind you with a deafening clang. You stumbled back to your feet, your mind racing. What was happening? Why you? Why now?

Your eyes darted around the darkened space. The only light came from a flickering torch mounted on the wall. You couldn’t see much, but you could hear the echo of footsteps approaching.

"Who are you?" you demanded, your voice shaking with the adrenaline that coursed through you. "Why are you doing this?"

The man who stepped into the light was no stranger. The figure was tall, with dark, sharp features that sent a chill down your spine. His eyes gleamed with a cold, calculating light. Surprisingly, he was dressed in the colors of your ally—the banner of the Northern Kingdom—a kingdom that had been a sworn friend of your father's for years.

But it wasn’t the man’s face that sent the real terror surging through you. It was the realization that the man before you was not just any soldier, not just another commander.

It was Lord Hwang.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind scrambling for clarity. "No... it can’t be... you?"

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, so you recognize me." His voice was smooth, laced with a bitterness that sent a shiver down your spine. "I must admit, I was hoping you wouldn't."

You took a step back, your eyes wide with disbelief. "What is this? Why—why are you doing this? You’re one of my father’s allies. You’re supposed to be—"

"An ally?" Hwang interrupted, his voice hard, mocking. "Your father and I have been playing this game for years, Princess. You think I’m just another soldier, just another face in his ranks? No." He chuckled, the sound dark and chilling. "I’ve been playing my own game all along."

The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as his words hit you like a cold wave.

"But you... you’ve been helping us," you whispered, your voice shaking. "You’ve been on our side."

"On your side?" he scoffed. "You’ve always been a pawn in this game, Y/N. A princess. A bargaining chip. And I’ve been here, waiting for the right moment to take what’s mine." He stepped closer, the smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth, but there was something colder in his eyes now—something far darker. "Your father never knew. But I’ve had my sights set on this kingdom for a long time."

A sickening realization washed over you, and the room spun as you tried to process the words. "You... you’ve been behind the attacks? The sabotage? The uprisings?"

Hwang’s smile widened. "You’re smarter than you look, Princess. Yes, it’s all been me. The raids on the border. The attacks. I’ve been carefully orchestrating everything. All to bring your kingdom to its knees."

Your chest tightened, a sick knot forming in your stomach. "But... why? Why do this? Why to me?"

He leaned in closer, his face now inches from yours, his cold breath ghosting against your skin. "Because, Y/N," he whispered, his voice turning from mocking to something darker, "I want everything. And I will have it all—your kingdom, your throne... and you."

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as his words washed over you. Betrayal. The taste of it was bitter on your tongue. You had trusted him. Believed him. And now, he stood before you, revealing the truth.

"You’ll regret this," you spat, summoning every ounce of defiance you had left, even as fear crept in around the edges. "This isn’t over."

Hwang’s eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, Princess, the only thing that’s over is your kingdom’s future. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay quiet. Because what’s coming next... is far worse than you can imagine."

With those words, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving you alone in the darkness, your mind racing, your thoughts spinning as the reality of the betrayal settled over you.

Lord Hwang wasn’t just a traitor.

He was the one who would destroy everything you had ever known.

The sound of the heavy door slamming shut echoed through the room, leaving you in a suffocating silence. Your mind raced, struggling to process everything Hwang had just revealed. You felt the weight of his betrayal like a crushing weight on your chest.

He was behind it all. Every attack, every raid, every plot against your kingdom... it was him.

The reality of the situation sank in, suffocating you. You had trusted him, believed him to be an ally, a friend, and now... now he had used you, manipulated you, and betrayed everything you held dear. The anger boiled within you, mixing with the fear and confusion that still clouded your thoughts.

You tried to steady your breathing, fighting back the wave of panic rising in your chest. You couldn’t let him see how vulnerable you were. You couldn’t let him know how much this hurt. Not yet. Not when you still had a chance to fight back.

But the more you thought about it, the more helpless you felt. You were locked in this cold, unfamiliar room, a prisoner in your own kingdom, and Lord Hwang had orchestrated it all. Your mind raced, trying to think of any possible way out of this, any way to warn your father, your people.

No, I can’t let him win.

With determination burning in your veins, you pushed aside the fear that threatened to overwhelm you. You scanned the room, looking for anything—anything that might help you escape, any sign of weakness in the carefully laid plans of your captors. But there was nothing. The stone walls were unyielding, and the heavy door was locked tight. You were trapped, and the cold realization of that truth made your heart sink.

A faint noise from outside the room made you freeze. Footsteps. Someone was coming. Your heart began to race again, the adrenaline coursing through you as you tried to prepare yourself for whatever was next. Were they coming to interrogate you? To silence you?

The door creaked open slowly, and a figure stepped into the dimly lit room. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, you thought it might be Hwang again, or perhaps one of his men, here to finish what he had started.

But then you saw the figure more clearly, and your stomach churned.

It was Taeyong—the very man you had been betrothed to.

But he wasn’t here to comfort you or offer assurances. His eyes were cold, distant, and when he spoke, it was with the same chilling tone you had heard from your enemies.

"Y/N," Taeyong’s voice was low, almost amused, as he stepped closer to where you were seated. "I see you’ve finally figured it out."

You stood up from where you had been sitting, your pulse quickening. “You... you knew about this? You knew what Lord Hwang was planning?”

A wicked smile curled on Taeyong's lips. "Of course, I knew. I’ve been a part of it all along. I had to make sure the marriage between our kingdoms went smoothly, after all."

Your eyes widened in shock. “You—you're working with him? You betrayed me too?”

The man's laugh was cold, cruel, as if your shock amused him. "I didn’t betray you, princess. I did what was necessary. This war, our alliance, it’s all a game. You’re just a piece I needed to move into place. Nothing more."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. "I was never anything to you, was I?" you whispered, the bitterness rising in your throat.

"Exactly," he said flatly. "You’re nothing but a tool. A way to unite our forces. Your kingdom was never important to me. Just the power it could bring."

Fury bubbled inside you, but you held it back, the realization sinking in even deeper. "So, everything... everything was a lie?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and anger.

He stepped closer, his expression darkening. "Don’t be naïve, Y/N. The sooner you accept the reality, the better."

You stood straighter, refusing to let him see how much his betrayal affected you. "You think I’ll just sit here and accept this? That I’ll just let you destroy everything I’ve ever known?"

"Try and stop it," Taeyong said with a smirk, turning to leave. "It’s already too late."

With that, he disappeared through the door, leaving you standing there alone again. Your heart felt as though it had been ripped from your chest. Both Hwang and Taeyong —the two men who had been so close to your father, so trusted—had betrayed you.

But you weren’t going to let this be the end. You would find a way to stop them. You would find a way to escape this.

For now, though, the cold stone walls of your prison mocked you, and you were left with only one thing: determination.

You would fight.

The door slammed shut behind Taeyong, leaving you alone in the cold, dimly lit room once more. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, crashing together in a haze of anger, disbelief, and a growing sense of urgency. You could barely process the depth of the betrayal, but the fire in your chest refused to be extinguished.

I will not be their pawn.

Your hands clenched into fists, your nails digging into your palms as the weight of the situation settled in. You knew you couldn’t stay here—physically trapped, yes, but also mentally chained by the lies and manipulations. The more you thought about it, the more everything clicked into place. The subtle manipulation by Lord Hwang, the way Taeyong seemed too eager to go along with the marriage. It had all been a set-up, and you had been a fool to trust either of them.

But no longer. You would find a way to turn this around. You had to.

The first step was getting out of this room.

You quickly scanned your surroundings once more, looking for any weaknesses, any way to escape. There was a small, barred window, too high to reach unless you could climb. The stone walls were unyielding, and the door was locked tight, but you had something they didn’t know about—you had your wits.

You moved to the far corner of the room, crouching down and running your fingers along the stone floor, searching for anything useful. After what felt like an eternity, you found it—a thin crack in the corner near the baseboard. It wasn’t much, but it could be just enough. You pressed your fingers into it, carefully prying at the stone until you heard a faint, satisfying click. The stone moved slightly, revealing a small hidden compartment.

Your heart raced as you knelt down and peered inside. There, buried beneath the dust and grime, was a small but sharp piece of metal—likely left there by someone who had been locked away before you. You grabbed it quickly, testing its weight in your hand. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

With a sharp breath, you stood up and pressed the metal against the lock on the door, feeling the small edges scrape against the mechanism. It wasn’t easy work, but you were determined. You knew that every second counted. You had no idea when they would return, and when they did, you couldn’t be here, couldn’t let them catch you off guard again.

Minutes passed like hours, the sound of your breath the only noise filling the otherwise silent room. The metal bit into the lock, and with a sudden, sharp click, the door opened just enough for you to slip through.

The hallway beyond was dimly lit, and the shadows seemed to mock your every step. You hesitated, listening for any signs of movement. Nothing. The silence was oppressive, but it gave you a brief moment of hope. You could still make it out of the castle. You could still escape.

As you crept down the narrow passageway, your mind raced with the possibility of confronting your father—of finally telling him the truth. Or perhaps you could warn your people, rally them before Taeyong’s plan unfolded fully. But you had to get out first. You had to—

Stop.

A noise from further down the hallway froze you in your tracks. A group of soldiers, their armor clanking lightly, appeared at the far end of the corridor. You stepped back into the shadows, pressing yourself against the stone wall and holding your breath. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, and you cursed silently. It was too soon. They were already here.

You waited for them to pass, but just as you were about to move again, a voice cut through the silence.

"Looking for something?"

Your blood ran cold, and you froze. The voice—low, calm, but laced with something far darker—was unmistakable. You slowly turned, dread sinking in as you came face to face with Taeyong.

He stood at the other end of the hallway, his arms crossed, his eyes piercing through the shadows like a predator watching its prey. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach churn.

"You…" you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, but the weight of his presence was crushing. "You knew I would escape. This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it?"

He smirked, a cruel, cold smile that sent a shiver through your spine. "I always knew you were clever, Princess. You’re not as naive as you look. But you’re still too late." He stepped forward, his boots echoing against the stone. "You shouldn’t have come here. You should’ve stayed in your room, stayed where I put you."

Your pulse quickened. "You’ve been playing me from the start," you said, your voice shaking but growing stronger. "All of it—every attack, every betrayal—it was you. It was always you."

His eyes gleamed with a cold, cruel satisfaction. "You were never going to win this game, Y/N. Not with me in it. I’ve been pulling the strings the entire time. I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to accept it."

The finality of his words hit you like a slap to the face. This was it. He was the one who had orchestrated everything, and now he was standing before you, closing in with every word he spoke.

"You won’t get away with this," you said through gritted teeth, your body trembling with the need to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here helpless.

He chuckled, taking another step toward you. "Oh, but I already have. You’re already lost. This is just the beginning."

Before you could react, the sound of footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall. A group of soldiers appeared, forming a barrier around you. They were quick, efficient, and had you surrounded within seconds. You were trapped once again.

Taeyong’s smirk widened as he stood just out of reach, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Get her back to her cell," he ordered the soldiers. "We’re not done yet."

Your chest tightened as the soldiers moved to grab you. You fought back, struggling against their grip, but it was futile. They overpowered you with ease, dragging you away from the one moment of freedom you had tasted.

Taeyong’s voice echoed in the distance as they pulled you back toward the dungeon. "You’re mine now, Princess. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it."

Your heart hammered in your chest as the soldiers dragged you through the cold, dimly lit hallways. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed in your ears, each step a reminder that you were no longer in control. Taeyong’s words, chilling and final, echoed in your mind.

You’re mine now, Princess.

A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed it down, clinging to the only thing that still gave you hope—your resolve. You would not let this be the end. You couldn’t. Not after everything. Not after what you had learned.

They shoved you into the dungeon, the cold air biting at your skin. The stone walls were rough and damp, the scent of mildew and old stone filling your nose. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, taking in the familiar, grim surroundings. The cell. The one place you had always feared, and now, here you were again—only this time, you knew you had to escape.

The soldiers didn’t waste any time. They shoved you inside a small, isolated cell, locking the iron bars behind you with a harsh clink. The cold metal of the bars pressed against your skin, and for a brief moment, you let yourself lean against them, your breath shaky. You couldn’t afford to lose yourself here, not when you were so close to everything unraveling.

You straightened up quickly, your mind already working on your next move. Escape. You had to get out. No matter what it took.

A low voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Princess?” asked a voice from the shadows of the cell next to yours. You turned sharply, eyes scanning the darkness until a familiar face emerged. The figure stepped closer to the bars, revealing the sharp, worried features of the man you loved.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him. “Chan…”

Your heart pounded as you stared at the beautiful man through the bars, the realization of everything that had just transpired still fresh and raw. His brown eyes met yours, filled with concern, but also a hint of something deeper, something unsaid between you.

"I couldn't let them take you," Chan whispered, his voice strained with emotion. He stepped closer to the bars separating you, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I should've seen it coming, should've protected you."

You swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on you. "He... he played me, Chan. He played us both." Your voice shook with a mix of anger and disbelief.

Chan's jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The tension between you was palpable, thick with unspoken words and the silent acknowledgment of everything you'd both lost. Then, without warning, he reached out and grabbed the bars in front of him, his grip tight, his body tense with frustration.

"I won’t let him win," he said, his voice low but firm.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer again, and your breath caught in your throat as his hand brushed the side of your face. His touch was gentle, but it sparked something inside of you—a feeling that had been buried under all the chaos. He was close enough now that you could feel his warmth, the steady rhythm of his breath, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"I’ve been such an idiot," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his forehead resting against the bars. "I should’ve known. I should've been there for you."

Your heart ached, but the ache was mixed with something else—desire, longing. Without thinking, you reached through the bars, your fingers trembling slightly as you touched his hand.

"Chan..." you whispered, your voice faltering. "I need you."

The words hung between you like a delicate thread, and before either of you could speak again, his lips were on yours, soft and urgent. The kiss was a spark, igniting everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. His lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless, his hand sliding around to your neck, pulling you closer.

Your body responded instinctively, your hands reaching through the bars, grabbing onto the front of his tunic, desperate to feel him closer. The kiss deepened, and you felt every inch of tension in your body dissolve, replaced by a burning need.

His lips tasted of the bitterness of everything he’d been through, but there was also a sweetness there—something you couldn’t ignore, something you both had been holding back for far too long. The kiss was filled with a mixture of desperation, regret, and longing, as if the world outside the dungeon no longer existed, and all that mattered was the connection you shared.

Finally, you pulled back, your breath coming in ragged gasps, and looked into his eyes. For a brief moment, you forgot everything—the betrayal, the war, the impending danger. It was just the two of you in this moment, and nothing else seemed to matter.

"Chan..." You could barely form the words, your voice hoarse. "What do we do now?"

He kissed you again, this time slower, more deliberate, as if trying to savor the feeling of you against him. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. "We fight, Y/N. We fight for this. We fight for each other."

The air in the dungeon was thick with the weight of your emotions, the kiss still lingering on your lips. It felt like a moment suspended in time, like something you both had been waiting for but never quite knew how to reach.

Chan’s hand lingered on your shoulder as he stepped back, his gaze intense but full of resolve. "We can’t stay here. Not like this." His voice was low, a barely controlled urgency in his words. He glanced around quickly, making sure no guards were in sight, before moving back to the bars. "I’ll get us out of here. I know a way."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, not only from the intensity of what had just passed between you but from the terrifying reality of what lay ahead. The escape. The unknown.

Chan moved swiftly, eyes scanning the dungeon once again before his gaze settled on the small window in the far corner of the cell. It was barely big enough to fit through, but it was a possible escape route—a plan he had thought of long before, and one that now seemed like their only chance. His hands moved deftly, inspecting the stone around the window. "We’ll need to act quickly," he murmured, almost to himself. "I can make it work. But you need to trust me."

"I do," you said, stepping closer to him. The words came easily, almost instinctively. The trust between you had grown in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances, in the fleeting touches. And now, in the desperation of your situation, it was stronger than ever. "Let’s go."

Chan’s expression softened as he turned back to you, the briefest flicker of warmth in his eyes before the soldier in him took over once more. "I’ll get the guards distracted. You stay low. When I say go, you make your move."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, moving like a whisper through the darkness. You were left standing alone in the small, cold cell, your pulse thundering in your ears. Your eyes darted around, every sound amplified in the silence.

The minutes felt like hours.

Finally, a loud clanging sound broke the quiet—a door opening. A guard’s voice rang out, shouting for the other soldiers to follow him. You could hear the scramble of boots on stone, and your heart raced with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Now.

You pushed yourself up against the cold bars of the cell, moving quickly but silently as Chan had instructed. The guards’ voices grew distant, and your breath caught in your throat as you slipped through the small gap where the bars had been loosened. You were free.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you followed Chan’s silent instructions as he led you through hidden passageways beneath the castle. Every step felt like a risk, every breath like a gamble, but you didn’t hesitate. You couldn’t. Not when there was a chance—however small—of escaping everything that had entangled you.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally emerged into the cool night air. The stars above were faint behind the clouds, the moon casting a soft, silvery glow over the landscape. Chan’s hand was firm in yours as he led you across the grounds, away from the looming castle walls and into the woods that bordered the kingdom.

"There’s a caretaker’s cabin up ahead," Chan said, his voice steady but quick, a sense of urgency in his words. "It’s hidden well. We’ll be safe there for a while."

You nodded, your mind spinning as you followed him through the darkened woods. The sounds of the forest filled the air—the rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of nocturnal creatures. It was peaceful here, so different from the chaos you’d just left behind.

After what seemed like hours, you finally reached a small, humble cabin nestled between the trees. It was quaint, with a thatched roof and wooden walls that looked weathered but sturdy. It felt like a world away from the palace—away from the plots and the battles that awaited you.

Chan opened the door slowly, his eyes scanning the inside before he ushered you in. The cabin was simple but warm, a fireplace crackling softly in the corner. A small bed sat against the wall, and a few basic chairs were scattered around the room. It was the kind of place where you could breathe, where you could rest, where you could pretend for a moment that nothing had changed.

Chan closed the door behind you, the weight of your escape finally starting to sink in. You were safe. For now.

You looked at him, your chest tight with a thousand emotions. "We did it," you whispered.

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he moved toward the fireplace, letting himself drown in his thoughts. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the strain of the day’s events weighing heavily on him. Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes soft but filled with something deeper.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice quiet, almost like a promise.

Your chest tightened as you stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing against his. "And what now, Chan?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What happens next?"

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, his lips curved into a slight smile, the first real smile you’d seen from him since everything started. "Now, we survive. We stay hidden. We plan our next move."

You nodded, but there was a weight in your heart. The war, the betrayals, everything was still out there. But in this moment, with him by your side, it felt like you could breathe for the first time in a long while.

For the first few hours at the cabin, you focused on survival—finding stored food, gathering firewood, and securing what little comfort you could. After a quick meal and a roaring fire, a new dilemma presented itself.

"Take the bed, Princess," Chan said, gesturing to the lone cot in the corner. "I don’t mind."

You glanced at him, weighing the offer before shaking your head. "It’s not that small. We can both fit."

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, relenting with a small nod. Turning away, he gave you privacy to change out of your gown and into an oversized tunic you had found. The moment your body hit the cot, exhaustion settled in, the aches of the day momentarily soothed by the minimal comfort it offered.

Chan, meanwhile, undid his boots and then his tunic. You looked up at the wrong—or perhaps right—moment, catching his gaze just as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Enjoying the view, Princess?"

Heat crept up your neck. You buried your face in the pillow, praying he wouldn’t see the flush on your cheeks. But of course, he did.

With a chuckle, he climbed onto the cot beside you. You shifted slightly, offering him what little extra space you could. With a tired sigh, he pulled the blanket over your shoulders, his warmth settling beside you.

You turned to face him just as he closed his eyes. "Thank you."

He cracked one eye open, brow furrowing. "For what?"

"For saving me."

A small smile tugged at his lips, dimples appearing. "Of course, m’lady."

Then, before you could think twice, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek. You melted into him, fingers threading through his curls as the kiss deepened. The tension, the desperation of the past hours—gone, lost to this moment. For now, it was just the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, you shifted onto his lap. Chan’s grin widened as he steadied you, fingers pressing into your hips.

"Desperate, are we, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes. "Shut up."

His hands tightened slightly around your waist as you settled your palms against his broad shoulders, your heart pounding in time with the flickering firelight.

He held your gaze for a lingering moment before crashing his lips onto yours, the sudden force making you gasp against his mouth. This time, there was no hesitation—just raw intensity. His hands roamed your waist, tracing firm, possessive lines down to your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself in the moment. You tangled your fingers in his curls, giving a gentle tug, and the deep, guttural groan he let out sent a shiver down your spine.

"Chan," you breathed between heated kisses, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Chan..."

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his lips brushing against your jaw. "Yes?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as warmth crept up your neck. You swallowed, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze.

"I—I haven’t really... done this before."

His expression softened instantly, the fire in his eyes flickering with something deeper—understanding, patience. He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. "Then we'll go slow," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Only what you're comfortable with, Princess."

As the night stretched on, Chan remained true to his word, never pushing or pressuring you beyond what you were comfortable with. His touches stayed feather-light, his kisses never straying from your lips or jaw unless you guided him elsewhere, letting you set the pace.

Heat pooled low in your stomach as your hips began to rock against his, a slow, teasing rhythm that he matched effortlessly. You could feel him hardening beneath you, the evidence of his arousal pressing against your core through the thin fabric of his trousers. The low, needy groan that left his lips sent sparks of electricity arcing through your veins, igniting a fire deep within you.

"Princess," he whispered hotly against your ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there, sending delicious shivers down your spine. "You're making it quite difficult to behave myself."

Embarrassment flooded through you at his words, heat rising to your cheeks, but it was quickly chased away by a wave of red-hot desire. You rolled your hips again, reveling in the way his fingers tightened on your waist, digging into your soft flesh as if trying to ground himself in the moment.

"I don't want you to behave," you murmured, feeling bold and brazen under his heated gaze.

His eyes flashed at your words, darkening with a sudden intensity that sent a thrill through you. He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize your taste. Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more.

But suddenly, even the thin fabric of your clothes felt too much, too heavy and confining against your oversensitive skin. You pulled away just long enough to yank the tunic over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought, leaving you completely bare before him.

His eyes darkened even further as they raked over your naked body, taking in every curve and plane with a hunger that bordered on reverence. He reached up, cupping your breast in his calloused palm, his thumb circling your nipple teasingly. You gasped at the touch, electricity arcing from your chest straight down to your core, hips bucking involuntarily as you arched into his hand, silently begging for more.

"Chan," you whimpered, frustration and need mixing together as his touch continued to tease, to dance along the edges of what you really wanted. "Please."

He chuckled against your skin, the sound low and rich and full of dark promise, sending shivers down your spine. "Please, what?" he murmured, lips brushing against your throat, breath hot against the damp skin there.

"Touch me," you demanded, grinding your hips harder against his erection, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your veins. "I need—"

But before you could finish, his hands were already moving, one slipping between your bodies to stroke at your most sensitive spot. You cried out, hips bucking wildly as he circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, the calloused skin providing just the right amount of friction. His teeth grazed against your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you writhed against him, desperate for more, for everything he could give you.

"Is this what you need, Princess?" he murmured, lips moving against your throat, tongue darting out to soothe the sting of his bites. "You need me to make you fall apart on my fingers?"

You could only nod frantically, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at any moment. He kept stroking, adjusting his pace to match the desperate rock of your hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge with every brush of his thumb, every roll of his hips against yours.

And when his teeth sank into your neck, just hard enough to sting, just hard enough to send you tumbling over the edge, you shattered apart, crying out his name like a prayer as ecstasy crashed over you, wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure pulsing through your veins.

Afterwards, you collapsed against him, boneless and spent, your body trembling with aftershocks as you struggled to catch your breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed gentle kisses to your hair, your temple, anywhere he could reach.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice tremulous with want. "I need more. I want to feel you inside me – all of you."

His gaze darkened with desire, understanding your meaning instantly. With a soft groan, he shifted, removing his trousers so that there were no barriers between you. Your eyes roamed over his nude form, drinking in the planes and angles of his body, the mix of strength and vulnerability in his bare skin.

Gently, he eased you onto your back on the narrow cot, settling himself over you, his body a warm, welcome weight. His hardness brushed against your slick folds, and you shuddered at the contact, your hips rising to meet him instinctively. "Are you certain?" he rasped, even as his body shook with the effort of holding back.

In answer, you reached down between your bodies, guiding him to your entrance, your intent clear. "Please, Chan. I need you. I'm ready."

With a shuddering breath, he began to press into you slowly, with exquisite care. You gasped at the initial stretch, your body adjusting to accommodate him, the unfamiliar sensation of being filled, completed. Inch by tantalizing inch, he sheathed himself within you, until at last, you were joined completely.

For a long moment, he held himself still, buried to the hilt inside you, allowing you time to adjust. He kissed you deeply, a tangle of tongues and teeth, before he began to move, setting a slow, rolling pace. Pleasure built between you with each glide, each rocking thrust, an inferno of sensation. Your legs wound around his hips, heels digging into his lower back, urging him impossibly deeper.

"Princess," he groaned against your lips, "you feel incredible. I've never...I can't..." He trailed off with a shudder, losing himself in the rising tide of passion, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the feel of you gripping him tightly, the perfect slide of your body against his.

You met his movements, angling your hips to take him even deeper, relishing in the incredible fullness, the sweet ache that bordered on pain, your body stretched to its limit. With each stroke, the coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter, bringing you closer and closer to the brink. Your fingernails dug into his back, scoring his skin, urging him on, desperate for the crescendo you could feel building.

His thrusts grew faster, harder, the steady rhythm fracturing into desperate, pounding need. You moved with him, helpless cries spilling from your lips, lost to everything but the slide of his body in yours, the symphony of passion rising between you. At last, with a sharp cry, your climax overtook you, inner muscles clenching around him as ecstasy crashed through you, a tidal wave of sensation that left you breathless.

Feeling you shatter beneath him, your body gripping him like a vice, Chan followed you over the edge with a ragged groan, his hips slamming against yours erratically as he spilled himself deep inside you, filling you with his essence. For a long moment, you clung to each other, chests heaving, skin damp with sweat, as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly faded, leaving you both boneless and sated.

As your breathing gradually steadied, Chan shifted, rolling onto his side and gathering you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoed in your ears—a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync with your own. His fingers traced gentle paths through your hair, each touch tender, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

"That was... incredible," you murmured, your voice still laced with breathlessness.

A slow smile spread across his lips, his dark eyes soft with both satisfaction and something deeper—something reverent. "You are incredible," he corrected, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You nestled closer, your fingers idly drawing lazy patterns over his skin. A deep sense of peace settled over you, a contentment that went beyond mere words. "Neither have I," you admitted, tilting your head slightly to look up at him. "It's like we were made for each other."

His hold on you tightened slightly, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he never wanted to let go. "We were," he murmured with quiet certainty. "And I don’t ever intend on letting you go"

Your breath hitched as you met his gaze, the depth of emotion in his eyes mirroring your own. "You don’t have to," you whispered, the words slipping out like a vow. "I'm yours, Chan. Forever."

A flicker of something intense passed over his features—relief, devotion, love. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. This one wasn’t hurried or desperate; it was a promise, a seal on the words you had spoken. A kiss filled with all the love, passion, and unspoken commitments that tethered you to him, now and always.

As your breathing gradually steadied, Chan shifted, rolling onto his side and gathering you into his arms. Your head rested against his chest, where the steady thrum of his heartbeat echoed in your ears—a soothing rhythm that seemed to sync with your own. His fingers traced gentle paths through your hair, each touch tender, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

The cabin was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest outside. You could still feel the night’s chill clinging to your bare skin as you woke, blinking a few times before you realized that Chan had gotten up.

He stood across the room, hands braced against the wooden table, his head bowed slightly as he took deep breaths. The tension in his shoulders had not eased, and you could see the war waging inside of him. He had fought for you, risked everything to bring you here, but neither of you knew what would come next.

“Chan,” you said softly.

He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he let out a slow exhale before straightening. “I should go check the perimeter. Make sure we weren’t followed.”

“You think Taeyong will send someone after us this quickly?” The question tasted bitter on your tongue.

Chan’s jaw clenched. “If he realizes you’re missing, he won’t rest until you’re back in his grasp. He’s not the type to let go of something he thinks belongs to him.”

A shiver ran through you, though it wasn’t from the cold. “Then we don’t let him find me.”

Chan finally looked at you, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable. “It won’t be that simple, Princess.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “Then tell me what we do,” you whispered. “Because I can’t—I can’t go back.”

His gaze softened, and before you could say anything more, he was in front of you. His calloused fingers brushed your cheek, the touch grounding you in a way nothing else could. “I won’t let him take you,” he murmured, the promise thick in his voice. “Not now. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched. “Then we fight.”

Chan let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “It’s not just a fight. It’s a war.”

You knew that. You had known that the moment you realized the man you had been promised to was the one behind your abduction. But the truth didn’t scare you as much as the thought of being trapped again. Of being used as a pawn in a game you never asked to play.

“I’d rather die fighting than go back to him,” you said firmly.

Chan’s expression darkened. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

His hand tightened against your cheek for a moment, his thumb grazing over your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you. Then, with a sharp inhale, he pulled away. “Go back to sleep. I’ll return soon.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to tell him that sleep would not come easy now, but you knew it was useless. Chan was a soldier first, and right now, his instincts told him to protect. To scout the area. To make sure you were safe.

So you let him go.

You watched as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself and slipped out into the night, his silhouette disappearing into the trees. Only then did you let yourself collapse onto the bed again.

As the fire crackled beside you, one thought remained at the forefront of your mind.

Taeyong would come for you.

And you had to be ready.

The hours passed slowly. Every creak of the wooden cabin, every gust of wind outside made your heart lurch in fear. Sleep was impossible. Instead, you lay curled beneath the blanket, staring at the flickering fire, waiting for Chan to return.

When the door finally creaked open, your breath caught. Your fingers gripped the edges of the blanket instinctively, but the tension eased the moment you saw Chan step inside. His hair was damp with sweat, his cloak dusted with dirt and leaves, but his sharp eyes met yours immediately, scanning you like he was making sure you were still safe.

“Nothing,” he muttered, closing the door behind him and bolting it shut. “No signs of anyone tracking us.”

Relief flooded you, but it was short-lived. “That won’t last,” you said quietly. “Taeyong—he’ll come eventually.”

Chan let out a slow breath and tugged off his cloak, tossing it onto the chair. “Yeah. I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders still tight with tension.

You sat up. “Then what do we do?”

Chan hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his expression unreadable. “First, you rest,” he said, his voice softer now, but firm. “You’re exhausted.”

You shook your head. “So are you.”

He exhaled sharply, then crouched down in front of you. His hands rested on the edge of the blanket, close but not quite touching. “Y/N.” His voice was quieter now, but there was something raw in it, something that made your chest tighten. “I need you to trust me.”

You searched his face, finding nothing but determination and something deeper—something unspoken. “I do.”

His lips parted slightly, as if the words had caught him off guard. His fingers twitched against the fabric, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The fire cast golden light over his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes.

Your heart pounded.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his.

Chan didn’t move away.

Instead, his hand turned, his fingers wrapping around yours. “I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, like a promise.

You swallowed. “And if they find us?”

His jaw clenched. “Then I’ll fight.”

His grip on your hand tightened, just for a moment, before he let go. “Get some sleep,” he said again, standing up. “I’ll stay up for a while, keep watch.”

You wanted to argue, but the exhaustion in your bones was undeniable. So instead, you nodded, reluctantly lying back down.

As you closed your eyes, you felt Chan sit on the edge of the bed, close but not too close. His presence was steady, grounding.

Soon you were fast asleep, letting the darkness of slumber wash over you.

The night passed in restless fragments. You drifted in and out of sleep, haunted by the echo of Taeyong’s voice in your memories, by the phantom sensation of cold metal shackles around your wrists. Each time you stirred, you felt Chan’s presence nearby—silent, unwavering. He never left the edge of the bed. Even when exhaustion surely clawed at him, he stayed.

By the time the first traces of dawn crept through the cabin’s small window, you turned onto your side, blinking up at him. He was still awake. His posture was tense, his gaze fixed on the dying embers in the fireplace.

"You didn’t sleep," you murmured.

Chan’s lips quirked slightly, but there was no humor in it. "Couldn’t."

You pushed yourself up slowly, stretching out the stiffness in your limbs. "You can’t protect me if you collapse from exhaustion."

His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand down his face. "I’ll rest when we’re safe."

"You always say that," you whispered. "But when will that be? When we’re halfway across the kingdom? When Taeyong’s forces are at the doorstep?" You exhaled, voice growing softer. "You’re not invincible, Chan."

His eyes flickered to yours, something dark and unreadable shifting behind them. "I can’t afford to be anything else right now."

The weight of his words settled between you. You understood—gods, you understood. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch him break himself for your sake.

You hesitated before reaching out, your fingers brushing against his. He stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away.

"Just for a little while," you murmured. "Close your eyes. Let yourself breathe."

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze searched yours, like he was trying to find something—assurance, maybe, or a reason to allow himself this small mercy.

Finally, with a slow, reluctant sigh, he gave in.

"Fine," he muttered, shifting back against the headboard. "But only for a little while."

A small smile ghosted your lips as you laid back down beside him. The space between you was small, but the warmth of his presence was enough. His breathing slowed, his shoulders gradually losing some of their tension.

The peace didn’t last long.

You didn’t know how much time had passed—an hour, maybe two—before a sound outside snapped you both back into reality. A rustling. Faint, but deliberate. The kind of sound that didn’t belong to the wind or the shifting trees.

Chan was already moving before you could react. His body tensed, hand reaching instinctively for the dagger strapped to his belt. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling you to stay silent. Your heart pounded as you sat up, gripping the blanket like it could somehow ground you.

The rustling came again. Closer this time.

Chan’s eyes darted to the door, then to the small window above the fireplace. His movements were careful, controlled, but you could see it—the flicker of unease in his gaze.

Then, a voice. Low. Muted. Speaking in hushed tones.

Not alone.

Your stomach twisted. Had they found you already? Was it Taeyong’s men? You gripped the sleeve of your tunic with pure fear.

Chan shifted closer to the door, positioning himself between you and whatever was outside. He gripped the dagger tightly, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.

Then—

A knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps.

Your breath hitched.

Chan didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

Then, a voice—gravelly, older, laced with something familiar.

"Open up."

Chan’s eyes narrowed. He hesitated only a second before unbolting the door and pulling it open just enough to see. You couldn’t see who was outside, but Chan’s body relaxed a fraction.

A gruff sigh. "Took you long enough," the voice muttered.

Then the door opened wider, and an older man stepped inside. His beard was streaked with gray, his clothes worn from travel. But his eyes—sharp, assessing—locked onto you immediately.

"So, this is the princess."

You stiffened. Chan stepped slightly in front of you again, his protective instinct flaring. "Not here," he muttered. "Talk inside."

The man gave a curt nod and shut the door behind him. The air in the room shifted, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Who is he?" you finally asked, voice quieter than you intended.

Chan glanced at you, then back at the man. "An old friend."

The man snorted. "That’s one way to put it." His gaze flicked back to you. "And I’m the one who’s gonna make sure you don’t end up back in that bastard prince’s hands."

Your breath caught.

Chan’s grip tightened on the dagger. "You said you had a way out."

The man’s expression darkened. "I do. But it won’t be easy. And if we don’t move fast, you’re as good as caught."

Chan’s posture remained rigid, his eyes locked onto the man with the same guarded intensity he always carried. You knew that look. It meant he was calculating, deciding if he could trust this so-called friend.

You, on the other hand, were still reeling.

"How do you know about Taeyong?" you asked, your voice firmer now, the fear buried beneath your growing anger.

The man turned his sharp gaze on you, lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. "You think the world doesn’t know? Word spreads fast when a prince betrays his own kingdom. Taeyong’s been buying loyalty left and right, gathering allies in the shadows. The moment he took you, the balance shifted."

Your stomach twisted. You’d known Taeyong was dangerous, but hearing it spoken so plainly—hearing that his influence reached beyond the castle walls—made it feel even more real.

Chan’s grip tightened around the dagger. "How do we know you’re not one of them?"

The man sighed, rubbing his temples. "Because if I was, you’d be dead already, boy. And the princess would be back in chains." His eyes flicked to you again, softer this time. "I’m here because I owe someone a debt. Someone who would want her safe."

You frowned. "Who?"

The man hesitated for just a moment. Then he said a name you hadn’t expected.

"Your mother."

Your breath caught.

Your mother had died years ago—before Taeyong, before war had ever loomed on the horizon. She had been a queen of grace and wisdom, beloved by the people, and yet her death had always felt… off. A fever, they had said. A sudden illness.

But now, hearing this man speak of her as if she had planned for something beyond the grave—

Your heart pounded. "You knew her?"

The man nodded slowly. "Not well. But well enough to know she saw this coming. She told me if things ever turned, I’d have to make sure her daughter didn’t end up a pawn in someone else’s game."

Your hands clenched in your lap.

Your mother had known.

And she hadn’t told you.

Chan was watching you carefully, his gaze softening just a fraction. You weren’t sure if it was because he saw the turmoil brewing inside you or because he already knew this truth and had been waiting for you to find out.

You took a slow breath, forcing yourself to focus. There would be time for grief later. Right now, survival was the only thing that mattered.

"What’s the plan?" Chan asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

The man straightened. "There’s a caravan leaving before sunrise. Merchants, mostly. They don’t ask questions, and they don’t check faces too closely. You slip in with them, make it across the river, and from there, we get you to the rebellion."

Chan tensed beside you. "The rebellion?"

The man smirked. "You think you’re the only ones who want Taeyong gone?"

Your breath came faster. There were people out there fighting against him. People who hadn’t been silenced.

Hope.

It was dangerous, but it was there.

Chan turned to you then, searching your face. "It’s your choice, Y/N."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision settle on your shoulders. Running had never felt like enough, but fighting… fighting was something new.

And maybe it was time.

You met Chan’s eyes and nodded.

"We go."

The man—who still hadn’t given his name—nodded in approval, moving swiftly to the small wooden table near the hearth. He pulled out a rolled-up map from his satchel, flattening it against the surface. The firelight flickered over its surface, casting shadows across the jagged lines marking the kingdom’s borders.

Chan moved closer, standing protectively near you, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. His body was tense, ready for anything.

The man tapped a spot near the eastern river. "The caravan is camped here for the night. They’ll move before dawn. If we reach them in time, we can blend in before the morning checkpoint." His finger traced the route southward. "Once we cross into the borderlands, we break off. The rebellion has outposts in the foothills."

You studied the map, your stomach twisting with nerves. "How do we know they won’t recognize me?"

The man glanced at you, his eyes flicking briefly over your posture, then back to the map. "It’s not about recognition. It’s about being inconspicuous. We’ll keep to the shadows, move quickly, and avoid the main roads. You’ll have to be just another face in the crowd, no different from the many others that pass through the checkpoints."

You frowned, knowing how much effort it would take to mask everything that set you apart. Every detail of your life—every expectation and every burden—had been formed under the spotlight of the royal court. To pretend you were ordinary felt impossible, but survival demanded it.

Chan’s jaw clenched. "We won’t be able to just walk in and out without drawing attention."

The man sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ve seen the guards at the checkpoint. They’re not looking for anyone in particular. If we move quickly and stay to the back roads, we’ll get through undetected."

You swallowed, your mind racing through the possibilities. "How will we know where to go once we’re past the checkpoint?"

"We’ll stay close, and I’ll guide us from there. You don’t need to worry about the rest." His voice was firm, a reassurance that didn’t quite reach your chest. "Now, let’s prepare."

~~~TIME SKIP~~~

It took you three days to meet up with the rebellion.

The journey had been grueling. Each day felt like it bled into the next, the urgency pressing down on you with every step. Every shadow seemed to hide a threat, and the silence of the wilderness was only broken by the constant rush of your footsteps and the occasional murmur of Chan and the man leading you.

By the time you reached the rebellion’s hideout, you were exhausted, physically and mentally. The exhaustion settled deep into your bones, but you couldn’t allow yourself to relax just yet. Not when the stakes were so high.

The hideout wasn’t much—just an old, decrepit farmhouse hidden deep in the forest. The rebellion's members were holed up here, their movements quiet and calculated. The moment you stepped into the small, dimly lit space, your eyes darted around, taking in the ragtag group of fighters. They looked wary, sizing you up, but there was something else there too. Recognition. The kind that came from desperation, from being on the edge of something bigger than themselves.

"You’re late," a voice cut through the silence.

A tall, lean man stepped forward from the shadows. His eyes were sharp, calculating, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath the hardened exterior.

"We had some... complications," Chan said, his voice tight but steady. "But we made it."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Complications? Such as?"

You tensed, but Chan gave you a brief, reassuring glance, his hand resting subtly on your lower back. He was trying to calm you, to keep you from reacting. The last thing you needed now was for the rebellion to question your loyalty or your intentions.

"We ran into some trouble along the way," Chan continued, his gaze unwavering. "Nothing we couldn't handle."

The man nodded slowly, as though weighing Chan’s words. "And the princess?" His eyes flickered to you, making you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. "I take it she's the reason for the delay."

You straightened, ready to speak, but Chan beat you to it, his tone laced with a warning. "She’s with me. And she’s no less determined than the rest of us."

The man eyed you again, lingering for just a moment longer before he nodded. "Fine. I’ll leave it to you to explain."

He motioned for you to follow him, and you did, Chan at your side as the others parted to let you through. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all watching, studying every move you made. And why wouldn’t they? You were no longer the princess. You were an outsider, just another face among them. But they didn’t know who you truly were, not really. And you didn’t know how much longer you could keep up the pretense.

Inside a small, makeshift war room, the leader of the rebellion—whom you hadn’t yet met—stood over a table littered with maps. He didn’t look up as you entered, but the tension in the room grew, a thick silence hanging between you all.

"You made it," the leader said, his voice low and cold. "Now we plan."

Chan leaned in, listening intently as the leader began to outline the next steps, but you found your mind drifting, your thoughts tumbling over one another. You had been living a lie for so long now—pretending to be someone you weren’t, pretending you were just like them. But the rebellion was your only hope now. It was the only chance you had left to survive, and perhaps to find something more than just survival.

Your gaze flickered over to Chan, his face hardened with focus as he listened to the plans. His presence was a constant, a steadying force in the chaos that surrounded you. But even with him by your side, you couldn’t escape the weight of the situation, the constant worry gnawing at you.

"You’re not alone," Chan murmured quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. He hadn’t even turned to look at you, but his words wrapped around you like a protective shield.

You leaned in slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought I’d end up here."

Chan’s hand brushed against yours, a silent reassurance. "You’ll get through this. We all will. Together."

You wanted to believe him, to let the words settle in your chest and replace the fear, but it wasn’t that simple. The rebellion was still a risky gamble, and so many unknowns lay ahead. But for now, you had no choice but to place your trust in them—and in him.

The leader of the rebellion finally looked up, his gaze settling on you. "You’ve been trained in the ways of the court. You know how to play a part. But this is different. The rebellion needs more than just your skills. We need your full commitment. Your life, your safety—it’s not yours anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. You were here to fight, to take a stand, and there would be no turning back.

"Good," the leader said, his tone colder than before.

You glanced at Chan, catching the fleeting warmth in his eyes.

The days leading up to the attack on the castle felt like a blur, each one filled with training, planning, and a constant sense of anticipation. The rebellion had gathered their forces, and the tension in the air was palpable. You had taken your place among them, no longer a princess in a palace, but a fighter with everything on the line. But despite the intensity of it all, there was still a sense of unease gnawing at you—a feeling that something wasn’t right.

Chan had been by your side every step of the way, his presence a steadying force. There was no denying the bond that had grown between you both, the unspoken connection that had deepened over the past days. Yet, despite all the closeness, he had kept a certain distance, as if shielding you from the full weight of the battle that was about to unfold.

"Stay behind the lines," Chan had told you more than once, his voice softer than usual, the concern clear in his eyes. "It’s not safe for you out there."

You knew it was a command, not a suggestion, but part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration. You had already proven yourself capable, already fought beside him, and yet, here you were, told to stay back.

"You can’t tell me to just stand by," you’d snapped once, your voice sharp. "This isn’t just your fight, Chan. I’m in this with you. No matter what."

He had said nothing in response, just a flicker of something in his gaze—something unreadable. He was trying to protect you, and for all his strength, his resolve, there was still that vulnerability when it came to you. It made your chest tighten, but you swallowed the feelings down. You couldn’t let them get in the way.

As the first light of dawn crept across the sky, the rebellion gathered in formation. The drums began to sound, signaling the start of the battle. You stood behind the lines, sword in hand, heart pounding as the anticipation grew.

"I’ll be back," Chan said to you, his eyes locked on yours for a beat longer than usual. There was a fleeting tenderness there, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Stay safe."

And then, with a final squeeze of your hand, he was gone, charging into the fray with the rest of the rebels. You watched as he disappeared into the chaos, your heart in your throat.

The battle was chaos from the start. The clash of steel, the shouts of men, the roar of battle cries—it was overwhelming. You remained behind the front lines, doing what you could to help where necessary, coordinating the defense, directing others, but every moment you spent away from the fight felt like an eternity.

Then, a shout broke through the noise. A loud, desperate cry that made your blood run cold.

"Chan!" you heard someone yell, the voice panicked.

Your heart skipped, and without thinking, you darted toward the front lines, your feet moving faster than you could process. You knew you shouldn’t be there. You knew it wasn’t safe. But you had to see for yourself.

As you emerged from behind the barricades, you saw him—Chan, bloodied and staggering, a sword wound across his side. His armor was dented, his face set in a grimace of pain, but he was still fighting, still pushing forward, swinging his sword with sheer determination.

You rushed toward him, but someone else got there first. The rebels around him were struggling to keep the enemy at bay, but it wasn’t enough. He was too far from the rest of the forces, and the enemies were closing in.

“Chan!” you shouted again, panic rising in your chest. You pushed your way through the chaos, your heart hammering as you neared him.

He saw you, his expression flickering with something between relief and frustration. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, strained, but there was a softness to it—a concern that made you want to scream.

“Chan, you’re hurt!” You reached him, gripping his arm to steady him, your eyes scanning the gash on his side. The blood was flowing too fast.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, but it was clear he wasn’t. “You need to go back—this is too dangerous for you.”

“Not without you.” You refused to leave his side, knowing time was running out.

His hand found yours, his grip weak but insistent. “I’m not going anywhere until we win this,” he said, though his words were laced with pain. The enemy wasn’t stopping.

The battle had shifted again. More reinforcements for the other side. But you couldn’t just leave him, not when he needed you.

“Chan, you’re bleeding—you're not fine!" You pulled him closer to you, desperation taking over. He winced, clearly in more pain than he let on. The sight of him like this twisted something in your chest, the vulnerability of the man who had always been your protector, now so exposed, so human.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, though his breath was becoming shallow. "We need to push them back, or we won’t make it."

Your heart was racing, but your mind was focused. "We need to get you out of here first."

A sharp cry came from another soldier, and the pressure of the situation heightened. With the enemy bearing down on them, it was clear you had no time to waste. You gritted your teeth and grabbed Chan’s arm, pulling him toward a small alcove that offered some cover.

"We’ll regroup," you said, though it was more of a prayer than a plan. You didn’t care about the battle right now—just getting him safe.

But before you could do anything more, an explosion rocked the area nearby. The ground trembled beneath your feet, and smoke filled the air. You instinctively pressed yourself against Chan, shielding him as best as you could.

The battle raged on, the sound of weapons clashing and soldiers shouting filling your ears. You had no idea what was happening around you, only that you had to keep moving.

But when you turned to look at Chan, you saw the strain in his eyes, the way his hand weakly held yours, and you knew. This battle wasn’t over, but for him, it was. He was slipping, and fast.

"Stay with me, Chan," you whispered, your voice breaking as you guided him further away from the front lines. "Please."

"I’m here," he whispered back, but it was faint, and you knew the fight in him was dimming. You couldn’t leave him. Not now.

The sound of the battle was fading, but it didn’t matter. You just had to get him to safety.

You refused to let go of Chan’s hand as you dragged him toward the safety of a nearby tent, your heart pounding with every ragged breath he took. His blood was warm against your skin, seeping from the wound in his side at an alarming rate. He was trying to keep himself upright, but you could feel his strength slipping.

“Just a little further,” you urged, voice tight with panic. You weren’t sure if you were saying it to reassure him or yourself.

Chan let out a low groan, his body sagging against yours. “You should’ve stayed back,” he murmured, his voice weaker than you’d ever heard it.

“And let you bleed out on the battlefield?” you snapped, adjusting your grip on his arm. “Not happening.”

Finally, you reached the tent. Two rebel soldiers rushed forward, their expressions morphing into shock when they saw Chan’s condition.

“Get a healer!” you barked at them. One of the soldiers ran off without hesitation, while the other helped you ease Chan down onto a pile of blankets.

Chan hissed as he landed on his back, his hand gripping yours weakly. His face was pale, his forehead slick with sweat, but his gaze remained locked on you. “You shouldn’t see me like this.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You shook your head fiercely. “Don’t say that. I’m right where I need to be.”

The flap of the tent burst open, and the healer rushed in, dropping to Chan’s side with practiced efficiency. You scooted back to give them space, your hands shaking as you watched them work.

He was going to be okay. He had to be.

The healer pressed cloth to Chan’s wound, and he tensed, his jaw tightening in pain. His fingers curled into the blankets, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“You’re lucky the blade didn’t go deeper,” the healer muttered, pulling out supplies from their satchel. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood. You need rest.”

Chan huffed out a tired breath. “No time for that,” he mumbled.

You clenched your fists. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve healed,” you told him firmly. “I don’t care how much you want to throw yourself back into battle.”

His lips twitched, like he wanted to smirk but was too exhausted to do it. “Bossy.”

You let out a shaky laugh, despite the lump in your throat. “Someone has to be, since you clearly have no sense of self-preservation.”

The healer shot you both a look. “If you want him to survive, let me do my job.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, shifting back even further, though you refused to leave the tent.

Chan’s eyes flickered toward you as the medic worked, his gaze softening. “You really aren’t leaving, huh?”

You shook your head. “Not a chance.”

His fingers twitched slightly, and you reached out, lacing them with yours. His grip was weaker than before, but he still held on. Even now, in the middle of a war, with blood staining your hands and chaos raging outside, you knew one thing for certain—

“I love you.” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, but you didn’t regret them. You meant them with every fiber of your being.

Chan’s breath hitched. His hand squeezed yours as tightly as he could manage. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice raw, like he’d been holding it back for too long.

A tear finally escaped down your cheek, but you didn’t care. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m going to make sure you’re okay,” you promised.

Chan smiled weakly, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. “With you here… I already am.”

The battlefield was chaos—clashing steel, dying screams, and the thick stench of blood in the air. But despite the wreckage of war, one undeniable truth cut through the carnage: the tide had turned in your favor.

The enemy forces, once ruthless under Lord Hwang's command, were breaking. You could see it in their frantic movements, the way they hesitated before striking. The moment the news spread—Lord Hwang was captured—their will to fight crumbled.

Your father, alongside Taeyong, had fallen in battle, cut down in the very war he had, without realizing it, waged against his own people.

The sight of his lifeless body on the bloodstained field had sent a shiver through you, not of grief, but of finality. His reign had ended not in grandeur, not in control, but in ruin. And now, as the last of his soldiers dropped their weapons, as Taeyong was killed and Hwang was captured, it was truly over.

A sharp cry of victory erupted from your troops. The war—the one that had stolen so much, that had nearly cost you everything—was won.

A strong, familiar hand grasped yours. You turned, breath catching in your throat as Chan stood beside you, blood seeping from a wound in his side, but alive. Alive and standing with you, despite the battle that had nearly torn him from you.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed, your fingers tightening around his.

His lips twitched, exhaustion weighing on his features. “It’ll take more than a battlefield to keep me from you.”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. He had fought for you, bled for you, and yet he was still standing.

Your throat tightened, your heart aching with the weight of everything you had both endured. “I don’t want to lose you again, Chan.”

He exhaled shakily, resting his forehead against yours. “You won’t. I swear it.”

And then, despite the battlefield, despite the onlookers, despite the remnants of war still surrounding you—he kissed you.

It wasn’t a kiss of desperation, or relief. It was a promise.

A promise of forever.

One month had passed since the war ended.

The city, once darkened by the rule of your father, was beginning to heal. The streets bustled with life, no longer weighed down by fear. The people—your people—had chosen you as their queen, and with that came the responsibility of rebuilding everything your father had destroyed.

As you stood in the grand hall of the palace, the air was thick with anticipation. The golden crown rested in the High Councilor’s hands, moments away from being placed upon your head.

You glanced to your side, where Chan stood, dressed in ceremonial attire. His wound had healed, though faint scars remained—a reminder of the battle that had nearly taken him from you. But more than that, it was a reminder of everything he had fought for. Everything you had fought for together.

When the crown was finally placed atop your head, the room erupted into cheers. You weren’t just the daughter of the fallen king. You weren’t just the girl who had once been trapped behind the palace walls.

You were the queen.

Chan’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours as he leaned down slightly, murmuring just for you, “So, how does it feel?”

You turned to him, a smile playing at your lips. “A little less terrifying with you beside me.”

His grip tightened. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The coronation bled into the wedding—two moments intertwined, symbolizing not just the end of an era, but the beginning of something greater.

As you stood before the people, vows exchanged beneath the flickering glow of the palace lanterns, you realized something—this wasn’t just about winning a war. This was about everything that came after. About building something new, something better.

As Chan kissed you before the crowd, sealing your marriage with the weight of love and devotion, you knew one thing for certain.

This was the beginning of forever.

Thank you, dearest readers, for enduring that grammatical mess I call a story. I might make a part 2, depending on how well this does. We'll see. Please like, comment and reblog, thanks :)

***My works are not allowed for translation or reposting as your own without my permission***

Play With Fire

i drink your blood and i eat your skin

vampire! hwang hyunjin x f!reader

general warnings: this story will contain gore, violence, strong language, slow burn, potential smut and classic vampire things, also reader’s body is being described to be more on the chubbier side

──────────────────────

ongoing series masterlist

playlist

──────────────────────

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

──────────────────────

𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄 𝗮𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗯𝗲𝘁 ➞ 𝗷𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻

𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿; 𝗶 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗼: 𝗛, 𝗜, 𝗼𝗿 𝗫 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗛 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗫 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝗸𝘇 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲.

➞ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗰𝘂𝗺, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀, 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀, 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹, 𝘁𝗼𝘆𝘀, 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗲𝘁𝗰.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Tired and whiny after sex so less aftercare but still checks up on you. He's the "Was anything wrong?" or "Did I make you feel uncomfortable" type of person. He likes to know if he did anything to upset you because he genuinely cares about you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself: His "abs". He has some sort of abs, they're less defined but still count. Only likes them since he thinks it's hot.

On you: Doesn't have one specific one since he likes everything about you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers to cum anywhere, actually. On your face, arms, legs, tummy, back, ass, boobs, inside, on your pussy, etc. He doesn't mind unless you do. (Basically, he won't cum anywhere you don't want him to).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He hated how his prior partner treated him during sex. It was like she never paid attention to him and disregarded how he felt. So, one day he did the same to her. He thinks it's a dirty secret when it's actually just a secret.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Has had multiple ex's so he has experience. Used to being on the top, yet would like to try being on the bottom. But, he draws the line at pegging cause he's not tryna get fucked anally.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Against the wall, cowgirl, prone bone. His ultimate favorite is the 3rd variation of missionary ("Harmony" if I'm right) where your legs are wrapped around his torso with a pillow under your ass to hit your g-spot since it elevates your pelvis.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not in the heat of the moment, no. He is fully blown out and has no time to make humorous comments. He's moaning and groaning so loud he doesn't even have jokes on his mind.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

Once he was jacking off in his room and his cum was on the floor but he was too exhausted to clean it up, so he left it there and one of his friends (not a member) found it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Cockwarming (not a kink so to say but still enjoys it)

Praise kink

Sex toys

Fisting (lowk crazy)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Only his home because then he can clean up after himself and since he can't be trusted to be quiet in public places.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any sort of stimulation...he is already hard. In the morning, he's hard from the thought. During the day he may even ask for pictures to rile him up for the rest of the day.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Slapping (at all)

Somnophilia

Drunk sex

Bath sex

Videotaping having sex

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers both. If he's receiving head, he's a little bit more sub-ish, but if he's eating you out, he's more dom.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough. He likes to do this because it makes you feel as good as possible. When the rounds come to an end, he usually will start off slower and then gain speed again.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big no for him. He really enjoys spending time with you, and that is the exact opposite.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, only for you, and only if you agree with what he wants to do. Doesn't want you to think he's peer pressuring you into doing it with him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Rounds last about 6 minutes, and he'll go for however many you both want. Or until you're overstimulated. (Rounds end when you both cum.)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn't have any toys but will buy them in the future. It's his little "secret" but you'll probably find out since your Amazon is connected to his.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Actually, not that much. I would say he's placed lower within the group, especially because he's not into degrading. Teasing with praise is also a thing but he can't really form words when he has sex.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

LOUDEST ONE! We all knew this though. No need for an explanation. 

W = Wild card (a random headcannon for the character)

Jeongin has asked not once, not twice, not even three times, but four times to have sex on your period in one week. He was SO horny for some reason (he won't say apparently). (It was because he was looking through all of your nudes. He had to suffice with his hand a lot that week.)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Only high if you turn him on in some way. Then again, he does get turned on quite easily, so a lot more than you think. Most of the time it's when you don't want to (or he assumes you don't want to) so he just ends up jerking off.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not very quick because of the aftercare part, but he's already asleep once you're a little tired. My guy is so tired after sex it's crazy.

𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁! 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗱𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗯𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘄𝘀 𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗶 𝗮𝗺 𝗱𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿 ♡

𐙚 i want it ⋆ h.js x fem! reader pt. 2

part one ⋆ part two

pairing: han jisung x inexperienced! reader genre: smut, smau warnings: swearing ⋆ spit kink⋆ virginity ⋆ needy han ⋆ slight perv!han ⋆ reader is called “baby” and “pretty girl” ⋆ no use of “y/n” ⋆ reader is referred to by she/her pronouns ⋆ piv ⋆ munch jisung ⋆ oral sex (fem recieving) ⋆ fingering ⋆ light cum play ⋆ lots of praise ⋆ dialogue heavy wc: 3.2k synopsis: a week after jisung eats you out, he takes your virginity at your eager request. author's note: i feel like this is a safe enough space to say that i kinda didn’t wanna write this pt 2. i struggled a lot, but it’s finally finished!! didn’t wanna leave you guys hanging so i pushed through and delivered! if you like it feel free to reblog or comment bc those make my day <3

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

a pit of guilt grows in jisung’s gut. he promised you months ago that he’d take it slow. he broke that promise the moment it got too difficult to keep his dick in his pants. months ago, you would barely make out with him. you were so shy when it came to being intimate. but slowly, you got more used to it. slowly. 

he promised you that your first time together would be at the right moment. and he begged to get your pussy in his mouth before you were ready. he was such an awful boyfriend.

at least, that’s what he thought. 

jisung was oblivious to the lust that clouded your mind the following days. the way you’d wake up in the morning, only to feel slick between your thighs from the wet dreams the night before. the way you’d be going about your day, and suddenly the image of your boyfriend rubbing his dick on your pussy flashes in your mind. or the way you fantasize at night about how it’d feel to experience it all over again–his tongue, his fingers. how you'd fall asleep to the thought of his cock inside you.

he started a fire inside you without even knowing, and he needed to quell it before you lost your mind.

he’s barely even went further than kissing you since he ate you out. you know that jisung is scared to force you. but you also know that you’re ready. 

instead of asking him to fuck you, like any rational person would do, you decide the best way to what you want is to seduce him into it. it isn’t hard. really, it’s stupid easy. even a virgin can do it. 

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

when jisung gets into your apartment, all he wants to do is cuddle you while you stroke his hair. it’s one of the tamer things he’s been dreaming of all day. 

“baby?” he says, and shuts your apartment door. it’s silent. “baby?”

“bedroom.” is all you reply. when he opens the door, he pauses. he definitely had something to say with the way his mouth hangs open, but as soon as he sees you it’s thrown out the window. you see his adams apple bob as he swallows, and takes in the sight of you: naked except for a thin, cropped camisole and panties, your sweatshirt barely covering your arms before it falls to the floor.

“jisung.” you try your best to keep the amusement out of your voice. 

“shit! sorry, baby.” he snaps out of it quickly, adverting his gaze to the wall behind you. half of his thoughts for the past week come back to him all at once. seeing you barely covered makes the blood rush to his face, and his dick. it’s an instant reminder of how he had you just a week ago. he doesn’t look back to you, he might be strong enough mentally, but his dick sure isn’t. traitor.

“how was your day?” you're so casual about it, sauntering up to him and hugging him like you're not practically naked in front of him. like your tits don't press up against his chest when you hug him tightly.

“good. it was good. i missed you.” he's trying to stay calm. keep his dick from flying out of his pants like some deranged, horny adolescent who just discovered porn.

“yeah? still wanna cuddle like you wanted to earlier?” you ask, referencing a text he sent you a few hours ago.

screw his dick, his heart needed you more.

jisung sits on your bed, his back resting against the headboard. he watches as you climb into his lap, bare thighs against his sweats. you're so warm, and you smell so good… you're gonna kill him one day.

the moment your hands are in his hair, he's taking a deep, grounding breath. he loves when you play with his hair, it's the perfect stress relief for him. his girl, all pretty in his lap, running her fingers through his hair. dream come fucking true.

jisung can't help the low groan that escapes his lips as he adjusts his position. his arms wrap around you, shifting you in his lap so you're not sitting on his dick.

“fuck, baby.” he mutters. his eyes are shut, teeth biting at his lip to keep himself quiet.

it's cute, really. how worked up your boyfriend gets over you. you can't help but kiss the corner of his mouth, your hands cupping his cheeks as you try to push things further.

“kiss me, jisung?” the way you ask him is so sweet, so innocent sounding. like you don’t have a plan (you do) and all the pieces aren’t falling into place (they are). he can't resist, leaning up to kiss you short, sweet, and chaste. 

it's not enough. you take charge, kissing him and shifting in his lap to get a better angle. he gets the message, and lets you lead the kiss. in no time you're deepening it, your tongue in his mouth, and jisung's quick to pull back, your unusual boldness finally catching him off guard. 

“you good, baby?”

“mhm.”

“really?”

“you haven't kissed me in forever.” you're quick to defend yourself with a pout. forever, a week… same thing.

“c'mon, baby. you know i don't wanna rush you… i wanna take it slow with you, you asked me that and i'm doing my best…” he's looking at you like you’re too good for him, or he’s too bad for you. “you really don't know how hard that is for me, sometimes.” he mutters, eyes averting away from you. his hands come to rest on your hips, and it illustrates his point: he can't keep his hands off you.

“you're so gorgeous… prettiest girl i’ve ever seen. and you've got no idea how badly i just wanna push you down on the bed and fuck you sometimes.” jisung takes his hands off you, like they'll betray him. his hands ball up into fists at his sides. “you deserve someone who's able to wait for you, patiently.”

you don't like the implication of jisung's words. that you might ‘deserve’ someone better than him. your hands reach for his wrists, and guide his hands back to your body where they currently belong.

“i don't want anyone else, jisung, only you. it felt good when you ate me out. i liked it. i want more.” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “fuck me. please?” you ask, thumbing over his cheeks. your eyes are so warm, so full of love for your just slightly perverted boyfriend.

“i don't wanna make you wait anymore. i'm ready now. please? i want it.”

jisung can't resist you: his dick is throbbing in his sweats, his mind clouded because you look so damn good on his lap. you're begging him to take your virginity. you’re clearing up the doubt and guilt in his mind. who is he to deny you any further? 

“i love you.” he grins, shaking his head. his hands travel up from your hips to your waist, and he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “lie down, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re quick to push yourself off his lap, and lie down beside his sitting form. there’s an air of excitement bouncing between you two as he kneels between your legs. he sits back to admire you beneath him. 

the way your hair lies behind you, the eager look in your eyes, the gloss of your lips from the messy kiss you shared. the way your top scrunches up beneath your tits, the strap barely falling off your shoulder. It’s the little nuances of your appearance that have him feeling like the wind’s been knocked from his lungs, and he wants to commit that beauty to memory, write about it like he’ll ever find the right words to describe you.

debauched. hot. perfect. ‘mine’. 

he can’t control himself, hands wandering your body to brush up your thighs. they reach your ribs and begin pushing up your top, freeing your tits for him to grope and tease. he takes in the way your breath catches, notes the things he does what makes you react. you’re so reactive and all he’s done is feel you up.

“shh… baby, i know…” he whispers as he takes your nipple between his thumb and index finger to give it a rough pinch. “want it so bad, right? want me to just put it in?” 

you nod. he’s worked you up quickly. “not yet. my girl deserves a special first time. i can’t just put it in. what kind of boyfriend would i be?”

“but, ji–” jisung’s hands trailing down your ribcage to your hips. his thumbs soothe over the skin, but his grip is firm, and keeps you in your place. 

“don’t be a brat.” the sudden sternness in his voice has you shutting up immediately. you don’t think he’s ever spoken to you with such strictness… it turns you on. with that, he stands, and pulls you to the edge of the bed. 

“let me take care of you.” his voice is softer as he speaks and drops to his knees on the floor. he ends all your thoughts of impatience the moment he begins kissing up your inner thighs. “gotta prep my girl first, okay?”

there’s a gentleness in his touch, as he spreads your thighs a little wider, taking in the sight of you. as if he didn’t make you cum on his tongue with no regards for your virgin status just a week ago. “relax f’me.”

he spreads your pussy open with two fingers, and in seconds there’s a slow, wet trail of his spit dripping down your clit. jisung starts with slow, gentle licks that have you melting into his touch. he works up a fire inside you that spreads with every deep shallow breath, every barely audible whine from your lips. when your wetness and his saliva are all glistening across his chin, he pulls away. “how’s it feel, pretty girl?”

“good.” you breathe out, and suck in a deep breath. “want more.” you roll your hips, desperate to get his mouth back on you. 

"yeah? more what?” jisung rubs your thighs, giving you a break whether you like it or not. it’s a form of self control for himself as well, he can’t get lost in eating you out if he stops. “what do you want more of, baby? tell me.”

honestly, you don’t know. you just want more of the feeling he’s giving you, the fire that builds slowly and threatens to take your breath away. luckily, jisung is more than happy to give you options. “want more of my mouth? or do you want to try my fingers?”

“just wanna feel good.” you decide, and jisung smiles. you’re cute, and you trust him with to make you feel good, even if you don’t know what you want. he’s eager now, your plea spurring him on. jisung teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly inserts it as he begins to suck on your clit. it’s not enough, not for jisung. as soon as he feels you relaxing around one finger, he’s quick to insert anther. it’s not a hard stretch. not when your pussy’s being so greedy, sucking in his fingers as he sucks on your clit. 

all the while you’re moaning his name so sweetly, rutting your hips up into his mouth like he’s just a pillow for you to hump. “fuck, baby…” he’s moaning into your pussy, reaching his arms beneath your thighs to pull you closer.

“ji…” the way you moan his name is obscene. he wants to hear it again.

“cum on my tongue.” it’s somewhere between a command and a plea. however he asks, he needs to see it again, feel it again–fuck, he needs to taste it again. “cum on my tongue and you can have my dick, baby. ‘s all yours.” 

it’s not lost on him that you’re close when your hands reach for his hair, tugging in a way that makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. he knows before you do, and he’s doing all he can to make you tip over the edge. 

“please–” 

the fire he coaxes within you builds and builds. until you’re warm to the touch and can’t speak anything but his name in broken moans. he holds you down when you cum, your hips fighting against his strength as his fingers fuck you through it.

“good girl… that’s my good girl…” he praises. his eyes are glued to your face, taking in every frame of you as you come undone on his fingers. once your breathing calms, and you lie still on the bed, his eyes trail down to your pussy. his fingers gather the wetness of your cunt and pull out in tandem with your whine of “too much!”

“look at you, baby…” he coos as he stands. “that’s my good girl, cumming on my tongue so pretty for me.” his clean hand trails up your body, and rests against your throat. his hand is warm, almost weightless as it rests above your throat. it’s oddly grounding for you.

“made such a mess, though…” an idea pops into his head.  “you ever taste yourself, baby?” you shake your head no. jisung brings two fingers up to your lips. “go ahead.” he brushes the slick pads of his fingers against your bottom lip.

“clean up the mess you made.”

jisung groans as you take his fingers into your mouth. He can’t recall seeing a sweeter sight in his life. the way you look up at him, eyes wide and glossy as his fingers hit the back of your throat. you don’t stop though. you keep sucking, even beginning to bob your head a little and it goes straight to his dick.

he’s enjoying this too much.

jisung slides his fingers out of your mouth, and runs the same hand through his hair. “feel good?” he takes note of the look on your face, so fucked out already. you nod. it’s not a good enough response for him. “talk to me.” he’s gentle as he speaks, and brushes your hair out of your face. 

“feels good, ji.” you sigh, and shut your eyes. 

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“want more? or are you done for the night?” jisung’s thumb caresses your cheek, the other hand sits softly at your waist.

“more, please?” 

“of course, baby. you did so good for me. i promised you i’d give you my cock, didn’t i? gotta give my pretty girl what she wants.” it makes him impatient, to know that he has you prepped and eager for him. but he has to start slowly. 

he pushes his sweats down beneath his thighs, too impatient to fully take them off. he fists his heavy cock in his hands as the tip prods at your entrance. 

“gonna put it in now, okay?” he doesn't give you much time to think about it and before you can reply, he's pushing in. 

“jisung…” your eyes shut as you moan his name, and jisung watches the way your pussy welcomes him. you watch jisung: the hungry look in his eyes, the messiness of his hair, the way he breathes deep and slow as he takes you. half his cock is nestled inside you when he finally breaks the silence.

“you're doing so good, baby…” he mutters, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “taking me so well…” 

it's then that he starts to thrust. calculated and slow strokes that have you gasping as clenching around him. jisung is captivated. his eyes are glued onto the way you suck him in. he's barely able to keep himself from fucking into you deeper. 

your eyes wander down from taking in jisung's expressions, to the way his hips fuck into you with all the restraint he has. it makes you want more, want to feel him completely.

“more,” it's not an ask or a plea. it's a demand. you keen into his touch, and your eyes lock. “i want it all.” 

jisung laughs. he can't help it, you're cute. “more, baby? you want all my cock?” he teases and slowly begins to pull out.

“yes!” you whine, “jisung, please?”

it's cute. you're so desperate for him. it's hypocritical almost. he's using all his self control trying not to fuck you like he's a fucking rabbit in heat.

without any warning, he's grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. he slides into you, slowly. he groans as he bottoms out. you reach out to grip the sheets, but he's quick to grasp your hand instead.

“good job, baby. fuck, pussy's made for me–hold my hand, pretty girl…”

jisung pulls back and he swears he sees stars. “fuck…” he doesn't know how much longer he can control himself. his thrusts are deep and slow, falling into the familiar routine he fucked you with earlier. 

it's not enough for you. not enough pleasure to satiate the fire hes stoking inside of you. “more.” you demand. “more, ji.” something snaps in him. he’s quick to fulfill your request, fucking into you faster. 

“so dirty, baby. never been fucked before and already can’t get enough.” you can’t deny his words, or respond. all you do is moan his name again and arch into his touch.

“close?” you mutter, almost unsure of when your own orgasm is coming. with that, jisung spreads your pussy open with his fingers, and spits right on your clit. the high pitched whine that leaves your lips makes him smirk. 

“i know, baby.” his fingers work fast circles against your clit, and he feels the way you tense and squirm against his touch. “too much!” and it’s not. jisung knows it’s not. it’s just enough.

 “cum for me, baby.” and you do: with little whines and moans of his name, with little rolls of your hips to chase the pleasure he’s giving you. you’re clenching around him like a vice, each flutter of your pussy brings him closer to cumming, and he’s already trying his best to hold off.

he can’t take it anymore. jisung pulls out quickly and fists himself as he cums on your tummy. “that’s my girl… did so well.” he praises, his free hand soothing over your hip. 

jisung watches as you come down from your high. you're so pretty. his pretty girl. all ruined. your hair's a mess. the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead. his cum all over your tummy.

“how are you feeling, baby?” he asks with a soft smile on his face. 

“good,” you nod, a barely there smile on your face as you reach for his hand. “more than good.” 

you tug his hand, trying to pull him down to cuddle you. it's a signal that jisung responds to immediately. he's pulling you to the side to spoon you. 

one hand rests against your tummy, and he rests your head against his other arm. he kisses your nape, then your shoulder, then rests his head against you. it’s peaceful. 

“i love you, jisung.”

“i love you, baby.”

© dollracha do not copy reupload or repost.

「Inferno」 · Chapter 12

DAY 24: PASSION ⋮ PART 5 ➥ Heaven and Hell trade places, and when the dust settles, your heart feels unbearably heavy.

➥ 3k (~13 min. read)

⚠ — Explicit sexual content (see masterlist for more before reading)

This isn’t even the half of it.

Not even half.

For Hyunjin, becoming one with you wasn’t anything less than being choked. Your hands around his neck, your walls around his cock… Same thing. He wasn’t able to breathe in either case.

“God… Oh, god… OH…”

“Didn’t your little books describe what this would feel like, my prince?” you chuckled as he entrusted his life in your hands, “All sweet nothings, weren’t they? They never told you what fucking is.”

“Please…”

“When you fully sink into me, you will start moving. Trust your instincts, they will lead you where you need to go,” you intertwined your fingers with his and quietly instructed against his trembling lips, “Do not hesitate. You are not hurting me. The more you move, the more pleasurable it will be. I promise.”

It was just an excuse. Rather than him, you were trying to prepare yourself, thus the neverending suspense, but deep inside you knew. Simply dipping your toes in the water was never going to get you used to the temperature. You had to take the leap of faith and dive in headfirst no matter how much you were terrified of heights. 

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and finally let yourself go. He was only halfway in when you jumped off the cliff, so naturally…

“JESUS!!!”

The cry that ripped from Hyunjin’s throat was completely involuntary for he couldn’t process the sensation at all. It wasn’t the same feeling as when you caressed him under the sheets. Or when you kissed him in places that made him lightheaded. Or when you did unspeakable things to him with your mouth. This was beyond all of that. It had to be death itself.

Why else would he be ascending like this?

“S–Slow… Slow down!” he urgently held onto your waist, “I–I don’t want it to end so soon.”

The amount of pleasure coursing through his veins was so impossibly addictive that no wonder this was a sin. No one would be able to resist this once they got a taste, and you had made the biggest mistake of your life by teaching him this. Now he was never going to stop seeking the tiniest opportunity to seep into you every chance he got, pull you into the depths of insanity with him trying to find out whether his appetite for you could ever be satiated. He was going to intoxicate himself with you day and night, kiss every inch, lick every spot. There wasn’t going to be a singular grain on your body he didn’t touch, he didn’t mark, he didn’t love to death.

He suddenly remembered your words about how important it was to… to make his lady… beforehand. He hadn’t managed to do it yet, not that he had any mental faculty to properly execute it, but he understood exactly why because… Because your wetness… The way you dripped around him… It was making your voice echo louder in his head.

…it will also be easier for you to… to navigate.

…to navigate.

…navigate.

Was this what it meant to navigate? Was that the name given to setting sail on your body? Did it mean charting the map of the field where the most beautiful flowers were planted? Because he could quite literally feel the most fertile soil on his extremities. So soft. So moist. It needed plenty of water to bloom.

And he held all the aqua vitae necessary to irrigate.

“How do you feel?” you touched his flushed face burning with the fever he was spiking, “Tell me, how do you feel?”

He was falling into an abyss of fire, but he had never felt so alive. He pulled you even closer and kissed all over your breasts, leaving wet trails behind the paths he walked.

“Nothing ever hurt this good,” he breathlessly uttered, depriving himself of his sight to bask in your perfection, “Call me that again, darling. Call me the name that tears me apart.”

“Look at me.”

You gently lifted his chin and made him face you. His eyes were all hooded like he was half asleep, barely able to keep them open. You wanted to get lost in them as you confessed your most well-kept secret to him. That you couldn’t believe your luck that you got to taste love this pure during your lifetime. That you were falling in love with him all over again every time he called you darling. That you hated him for becoming your everything.

But all you were able to utter was…

“My treasure.”

“Kill me!” he throatily groaned as he pressed his forehead on your collarbones, eyes squeezed tight like he was in torturous agony. Words were forcing themselves out of his lips, almost like a chant as if he were possessed, “Crush me to pieces with your bare hands. I’m yours. My soul is yours. Everything I was, everything I am, everything I’ll ever be is yours.”

There is a moment when the souls of lovers entwine, rendering the need to use words obsolete. You were talking to each other just with touches. You were telling him how you wanted time to stop so you could live this moment forever. He was telling you how he couldn’t bear the thought of detaching himself from your body and that he would much rather die a thousand deaths as long as he was trapped inside you. Overcome with too many emotions, you found yourself tackling him, and took him on top of you.

You wanted everything from him.

“Put my legs on your shoulders.”

He kissed your ankles as he obediently followed instructions, then pressed his tip on your entrance. This was supposed to be a continuation of what you had been doing. He was going to disappear into you again like the newly-turned fiend he was, and your warmth was going to envelop him. Nothing had changed in its essence. 

Except for one thing. 

When he made the mistake of looking down at you, Hyunjin suddenly became aware that you were under him, so vulnerable and completely at his mercy. He could wreck you right now if he wanted, and you had brought this on yourself. Very much willingly for that matter. His thoughts were getting blurry, dissolving within each other to become this incomprehensible mass. Neither liquid nor solid. He couldn’t discern where his love ended and his lust began, rapidly losing sight of what was appropriate. Something very dangerous was taking over him, and his instincts kept whispering the same damn thing.

Give in. Give in. Give in. Give in.

“YES!!!”

Oh, that sound was everything to him. He must have done the right thing by ramming himself into you like that. It was just polite to return the favor, no? Catching you off guard exactly in the way you did to him not too long ago. Getting you wetter. Making you moan louder. Fucking you at a pace so ardent, his hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead. You looked fucking incredible under him, pinching your nipples with how gone you were with pleasure. He wanted to lick them. He wanted to lick your lips. He wanted to lick your pussy, and he was cursing at his damn luck that he wasn’t able to do all of that at once. His veins were getting raided with something akin to venom, almost making him angry. It was downright impossible to fight it. 

And once he let it consume him, Hyunjin had absolutely no control over what he was doing or saying.

“Have my children.”

What?!

Your reaction to the abrupt declaration was purely instinctive. It made you throb so hard that you felt your walls clamping themselves around his cock. It was as if your body was forcing it to happen even though your logic was reciting a whole other sermon, yet you were in no position to lend an ear with your barely-there defenses against Hyunjin taking massive damage.

“I want at least five,” he panted heavier, drops of sweat trickling down his chest to yours, “Let’s just start right now.”

God, you wanted to. You really wanted to. In your wildest daydreams, you were giving him as many children as he wished to raise with you. You had a happy family. You were whole for the first time in your life.

But in your wildest daydreams… That reality was enough to induce an acute urge to sob because how come the one thing you wanted in this entire world was the one thing you could never have?

You shook your head to rid your mind of any cloudy thought that didn’t belong to this moment. This was no time to wail over your woes. It was time to love. 

Love the only man ever.

You held onto Hyunjin tighter and jerked a little forward to make him fuck you deeper. Neither of you was able to talk. The only thing heard in the room was the shamelessly loud sounds of pleasure melting into each other. Being loved by Hyunjin was nothing short of a religious experience. It was heavenly. So heavenly.

Too heavenly.

“There! Cum right there if you want to breed me,” your vocal cords came back to life when he hit a spot inside you, “There is no way it won’t hold with your virility. Maybe we can even have twins.”

“DON’T—!”

This feeling… It was brand-new. The most intense kind of pleasure, unbearably overwhelming like an entire earthquake happening in his body. Nothing like he’d ever experienced before. In his dreams. By himself. With you. It was like a pair of hands reaching inside him and pulling something out. It didn’t hurt whatsoever, but it did severely weaken him as three loads worth of cum gushed out of him.

And even though he said that on a whim, it was as if his body was forcing it to make absolutely sure you conceived.

It was a brand-new feeling for you, too. Watching him cum, feeling him completely invade you, fill you up to the brim… It pleased you. That book he had was indeed telling the truth. When it was a man you were this in love with, nothing was more gratifying than his raging tempest. Nothing was more beautiful than a Hyunjin in rapture. You caressed his hair as he took shelter in your chest until the storm passed.

“Was it… good for you?” he looked up and hesitantly asked once he managed to gather his wits.

“Gold star,” you brightly smiled at him as you brushed his cheeks with the back of your fingers.

“But did… did you…?”

“No,” you kissed the crown of his head, “but it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” he suddenly propped up on his elbow in protest, “Let’s do it again.”

You were so endeared by the little tantrum that you couldn’t help heartily laughing.

“You are physically unable to,” you brushed his hair behind his ear, “We need to wait a while until you can… you know.”

He followed your gaze to see what you were looking at, and when he found his target, he connected the dots.

“Become erect?” 

You nodded in response, smile still intact whereas Hyunjin looked dead serious. He reached for your hair and began playing with it as he uttered ever so nonchalantly.

“I can still fuck you.”

It may have been because of your residual arousal or a particular weakness you had developed recently that you throbbed that hard at his words, who knows? In either case, the matter of the fact stayed the same.

You were never going to be able to resist him. Whatever he asked for, yes to everything, all the time, forever.

“Stop the profanities, or I’m going to have a problem,” you attempted to roll over to hide your face.

“Good, I want you to have a problem!” 

And just like that, you were in his arms again. His kisses were as hungry as they were five minutes ago as if he hadn’t just poured himself inside you. You contently sighed as he kissed your neck, then your chest, sneakily making his way down to your crotch while gently grazing his teeth on your skin.

“I’ve learned other ways to pleasure my lady,” he hugged your legs, “We don’t have to wait.”

“I mean… N–Not really, but—”

“Shh. Enjoy me,” he tenderly kissed your thighs, “Let me take you to the stars.”

You were dying. 

He spread your legs as wide as he could and brushed his fingers on your pussy like he was touching the delicate petals of a flower. He watched you throb, yearning to feel just one kiss. He obliged. One kiss became two kisses. 

Then three. 

Then four. 

Again. 

Again. 

And again.

He finally closed his lips around your clit and began to softly suck on it, swirling his tongue around every once in a while like commas in a very long paragraph. As your taste became denser on his tongue, Hyunjin found himself moving further down, licking longer stripes on your folds until he reached your entrance, quietly whispering little confessions into your cunt.

You kept sighing in delight as he relaxed and tensed you simultaneously, fingers in his hair, moaning a bit louder every time he licked you with more pressure. Hyunjin could listen to this sweet melody forever if you let him, but there was one thing he was dying to see. The vista he loved gazing upon in complete awe, nothing short of a miracle. He briefly paused, and your moans climbed three floors at once when he sank his fingers into you. With every pump, they seemed to be getting even louder. Your body was getting tenser. You were tugging at his hair harder. He remembered. He remembered everything. Every single step you had taught him.

“Like this, right?” he hooked his fingers upwards.

You couldn’t talk. All you could do in response was fervently nod. He was fingering you with your clit in his mouth, but it felt like he was beckoning your demise to come closer. 

Meanwhile Hyunjin was learning things about himself he didn’t even know were there. Three weeks ago, if anybody told him he was about to pick up a severe addiction to a woman’s taste very soon, he would burst into the most disgraceful derisive laugh. But there he was, salivating as he stared at his cum leaking out of you. Nothing was more arousing than the sight of the two of you fused together. Nothing was more delectable than this savory concoction he was slurping on. It was the flavor of the crimes you committed together. Of his undying passion. Of his devotion to you.

No one else could make him feel like this.

His hand moved on its own, and before he knew it, it was fondling your breast, his thumb brushing on your still-moist nipple. He wanted to know all the buttons he could press just so he could orchestrate the ultimate symphony of a violent eruption for you, crescendo so loud you would forget who you were by the end of it. Until only one thing remained in your memory. 

His name.

“I’m a slave to your love, darling,” he whispered loudly enough for you to hear this time, “There is nothing I won’t do for you.”

“Hyunjin!!!”

Your entire body convulsed from head to toe when you arched into his mouth, still getting licked and fingered until your moans subsided into deep breaths. You couldn’t tell how long that orgasm lasted. Maybe ten seconds, maybe ten lifetimes, but in each one of them, every fiber of your being longed for Hyunjin. 

He finally crawled back up to you, breaking into a bright smile at how brightly you were glowing. He was so happy he was able to make you happy. 

“I don’t want to sleep without you by my side anymore,” he quietly breathed his words into your soul as he stroked your hair.

At this point, you had not choice but to admit it to yourself. Neither did you. You wanted him to be the first thing you saw in the morning and the last thing you saw at night. You wanted him to make love to you like a soothing lullaby rocking you to sleep. You wanted to drift to your dreams with his scent on your nose. 

But every word he uttered was cutting open a wound in your soul instead.

“I’m your man now,” he rested his head on your chest, listening to your calming heartbeat, “I love you, my night sky.”

You tried your best not to flinch as your heart got ripped out. You knew how much this was going to hurt eventually.

Because it had happened once before.

It was true. You loved Hyunjin beyond the horizons you could see. You loved him to an unbearable degree. You were terrified out of your mind, but you would rather die than hurt Hyunjin in any capacity. One week. You had him only for one more week. Then he was going to slip away for good and leave you as the shell of a woman you once were, utterly unsalvageable debris. 

Because it had happened once before.

“Aren’t you going to call me your moon again?” he looked at you with his big brown eyes, drowning in sadness just because you couldn’t respond as fast.

“Of course,” you pulled him closer, trying your hardest to swallow the sobs piling up in your throat, “Of course, my moon.”

「© 2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Synopsis: Let's play two truths and a lie, and here goes the first thing about you: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend, Minho. (9k words)

Author's note: It's a quick one-shot I made like a year ago but pls enjoy it nonetheless 😊

Content warning: Infidelity.

This is how you play two truths and a lie. You share three statements about you, two being true and one false, and people must determine which is which.

-

So here goes the first statement: You want to fuck your roommate's boyfriend.

A few months ago, you came to the city for your new job and were placed in a housing with a group of unbearable people. Since you've just started working, you tried looking at another option to get a temporary place to stay until you're financially stable enough to rent an apartment.

Long story short, a friend of a friend introduced you to Kim who happened to have an extra room you can rent. She owns the apartment and does not necessarily need the money, she offered her room for the sole reason which is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of that is to help you. You're aware that you don't meet this kind of person every day and for that, you're grateful for her.

After a week of living as roommates, you learn that Kim is just as graceful as her occupation, a ballet dancer. She's beautiful, kind-hearted, amicable, and ultimately, a very attentive roommate.

The room you're staying in was supposedly her private dance studio but she uses the living room to practice now and you have to adjust yourself to the huge mirror covering one side of the wall in your room.

Not long after that, Minho comes into the picture. A sharp nose, sharp jaws, and feline eyes, a beautiful face that only reminds you that the world is unfair to some people, including you.

"This is Minho," Kim introduces him with a smile

The second your eyes lock in a gaze with him, you feel an instant attraction and it intensifies as he stares back into your eyes.

"My boyfriend," Kim adds a little too late.

It's funny that the word boyfriend doesn't stop you from being attracted to him, if anything, you want him more than before.

Kim and Minho have been together for two years now and they met at the dance academy which explains a lot of things, including Minho's lean and toned body.

How do you know? Because sometimes he stays over and on more than one occasion, you found him walking out of the bathroom with nothing but a white towel hanging lowly around his waist.

That's also when you learn that this attraction is strictly physical, your uterus is acting up when you see him, and lewd thoughts rush through your head. It's all biological. There's no way you want to pursue him romantically, you couldn't even think of a person more deserving to be with him than Kim. They're both beautiful and talented dancers, oftentimes, you get so envious because they have such a lovely relationship.

Like tonight, you hear their laughter the second you step into the apartment, finding Kim and Minho in the kitchen just casually talking to each other while sharing a bowl of fruits. You love how simple yet endearing their interaction is.

"Hey, you're home!" Kim says with a sweet, welcoming smile.

You wave your hand at her and briefly at Minho, "Hi, everyone!" You awkwardly say, feeling like you're interrupting them.

"Have you had dinner?" Kim asks, attentive as always.

"Yeah, I grabbed dinner after work," you lie, but you can always creep your way to the fridge late at night for dinner.

"There's a pie in the fridge. Help yourself to some dessert," she sweetly offers then shoves a piece of blueberry into her mouth.

Without having to look, you can see how Minho looks at you, he has this deep, intense gaze that makes you the slightest bit intimidated.

"I will, thanks," you hurriedly respond, wanting the interaction to end as soon as possible, "I'll just... get into my room."

"Yeah, you should rest," Kim softly mutters.

You hoist your bag higher on your shoulder and head to your room, before you get in, you mutter to them, "Night, guys."

"Night," Kim cheerily says.

You hurriedly get in and catch a glimpse of Minho with his intense stare a second before the door completely closes and clicks in place.

The trick to surviving the night is to wait until they get into the bedroom and put headphones on as you come out of yours, not only to avoid hearing unwanted noises, but you reckon it's only right to take the extra measure to respect their privacy.

As you're listening and catching glimpses of the movie playing on your phone, you walk around the kitchen to prepare your simple, unhealthy dinner: a cup of noodles and a can of soda.

You're quietly eating your dinner by the kitchen counter with the headphones still on and once you finished, you treat yourself to a slice of pie, then put the rest of the pie back into the fridge.

It gets messy as you're munching on the pie while watching the movie on your phone. The cherry filling gets all over your fingers and you hurriedly lick it off before it gets—

"Oh, my God!" You shriek in surprise, seeing someone standing by the fridge. Once you realize it's Minho, you break into laughter.

"I'm just getting a bottle of water," he says, his face illuminated by the glow of the fridge lights.

"I'm sorry," you say while clutching your chest, and a second later, regret for saying it when he should be the one apologizing.

There's something different in the way Minho looks at you, he has one corner of his mouth raised higher than the other, giving you the impression that he's thinking of filthy things when he looks at you like that. He's giving you that look now and it does certain things to you.

He then stops leaning against the fridge, taking the bottle of water as he walks back to the bedroom, leaving his signature faint smirk on the back of your head.

The signals are there, they're subtle yet constantly pinging, asking you to respond. For now, you're going to ignore it like you always do and continue existing like you're not sharing the same space with him.

-

Statement number two: You believe Minho wants to fuck you too.

At first, you thought you imagined it, you want to fuck him so you started being delusional and thinking that he wants to fuck you too. Once you started paying attention though, you realized that what he's been doing to you meant something or some sort of message he tried to deliver.

The first occurrence that came to your realization is when the two of you were in the kitchen, you were enjoying your yoghurt and he suddenly came behind you to get something from the drawer that happened to be blocked by your body. Instead of telling you to step aside, he made you stand there as his hand curved around your waist to get something out of a drawer.

From there, you noticed a lot of things he did, the way he briefly rested his hand on the small of your back as he walked past behind you, his hand that would often brush a part of your body when the two of you are next to each other or the way he would speak close to your ear as if he's seeking to be close to you. Simply put, he always tries to make physical contact with you.

The scariest part of it is not the possibility that the two of you will eventually get caught, but how unfazed he is even when his girlfriend is there. Like that night where the three of you shared the sofa and somehow, his hand found your shoulder and instead of retreating, he continued to caress the nape of your neck with his knuckle.

However, what happens tonight is what makes you believe that he wants the same thing.

After making sure that you're the only one still awake in the vicinity, you make your way to the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower to help you relax and sleep faster. You skip on using the hairdryer since it'll make too much noise and tiptoe your way back to your bedroom.

In the middle of putting on your clothes, you realize that you left the door ajar and you notice Minho is watching through the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of stopping or rushing to close the door, you pretend to not see him there and continue, turning your body to the side, showcasing every curve of your body through the reflection in the mirror.

You arch your back as you put on the night dress over your head and slowly slip yourself in it, shimmying your body as you pull the dress down with your hands. Then you look at him through the reflection in the mirror and make it known that you're aware of his presence.

From the crooked grin on his face, you can tell that Minho is pleased to be caught watching you and you received his signal loud and clear: He wants to fuck you too.

But sadly, tonight's show is over so you walk to the door and close it.

-

Friday afternoon, Kim barges into your room and she rarely comes into your room without knocking on your door. Seeing that she's carrying a dress in her hand, you guess she needs your opinions on her clothing choices.

You sit on the bed and take your headphones off, "What's up, Kim?"

She stands at the end of the bed and lifts the dress with both hands, "What do you think?" She asks.

It's a mini dress with spaghetti straps in a deep purple color and it's a nice dress, you're just not sure if it fits Kim's style that well, she usually opts for dresses with flaring hem and floral prints.

"It's nice, Kim," you say but skip on giving her the detailed explanation.

She puts the dress close to her body and hugs it, "Do you like it?"

"Yeah," you shortly reply, even though it doesn't fit her style well, it certainly will look good on her.

"Good!" She shortly says, handing the dress to you, "Cause you'll be wearing it.

Somehow, you reach for it and awkwardly hold it in front of you, "W-why? Why me?"

Kim goes to your vanity table and flips open your jewelry box, she holds your earrings one by one to find ones that would match the dress.

"You're coming with me to this party," she says, leaving a lot of details in her answer.

"What party?"

"Party at my friend's," she simply answers, deciding on the gold small hoop earrings.

But that's against your plan, you want to steer clear of Minho and party at Kim's friend means that he'd likely be there too.

"Kim, I don't think that's a good idea," you tell her.

She then leans against the desk in your room and crosses her arm together in front of her, "These past few days you refused to hang out with me so you have to hang out with me tonight."

So Kim knows that you've been purposely avoiding her but you need to explain that it's not because of her, "But that's not—"

"Nuh-uh!" She quickly cuts you off again, "Tonight you're going to the party with me," she decides on her own, not accepting any more excuses from you.

"Is it okay though? I mean... it's your friend's party. I don't want to intrude," you meekly say while playing with the strap of the dress.

"Why would it not be okay?" She says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, "Besides I want to introduce you to Gaspard."

Maybe you owe this one to Kim and hearing a guy's name piques your interest, "And who is Gaspard?"

"A cute guy," she shortly answers with a sly grin on her heart-shaped face, "And you'll like him."

It's not like Minho's presence would bother you that much and Kim needs you, she wants you there, therefore, as a good roommate, you should be there.

"Yeah, okay, I'm in the mood to meet a cute guy tonight," you tell her, not forgetting to show enthusiasm as well.

"That's the spirit!" Kim says with a wide grin dancing on her face.

Well, since you'll be there and possibly meet Minho, Gaspard better be a cute distraction for real.

-

The taxi pulls up in front of a house and you reckon it's where the party at from how many cars are parked outside and the faint thumping of the music playing inside.

The fact that you get here by taxi only means that there's no Minho so you can relax, for now.

Kim excitedly links her arm with you as you both walk into the house and you expect a party with laid-back music and endless glasses of wine but the second you step inside, upbeat music is blasting from around the house and everyone is having beers from red plastic cups.

The party is not what you imagined it would be, but it's what you need.

Kim cranes her neck to find her friends and once she finds them, she raises her hand to signal her arrival to them.

"Come on! Let's meet my friends!" She says.

Please, God, let him be a cute distraction! You repeatedly mutter in your heart as she drags you with her to meet her friends who are gathered in what you guess is a rec room in the house.

When Kim's friends finally come to sight, you put on a smile as you quietly guess which one of them is Gaspard. Kim goes to hug them one by one before introducing you to them.

"This is Ellie, Jena, Paul..." she introduces her friends back to you one by as the mentioned person warmly greets you.

"And Minho," someone adds from behind you.

You immediately look over your shoulder to see Minho standing there, Kim gently slaps his shoulder in response and laughs.

"This is not a roll call, honey," Kim says with a smile and then leans in to give Minho a quick peck on the lips.

Minho is already here and there's no Gaspard yet. No Gaspard means there'll be no distraction. You keep your smile on even though you're slowly descending into distress.

"There he is!" Kim exclaims, pointing at something behind you.

You reflexively turn on your heels and see a tall man with brown hair, striking green eyes, and a scintillating smile. This man will make the perfect distraction.

Please let this man be Gaspard, you deeply wish inside your heart.

Kim comes to your side and puts her arm around you, "This is the man I told you about," she says.

"I hope you only told her nice things about me," Gaspard says with a sly grin that makes his whole face light up.

The universe heard your plea and decided to make it true for you, this is Gaspard, the perfect distraction you want and need.

"Holyfuck..." you lowly mutter in disbelief.

"What's that?" Kim asks, hearing you saying something but doesn't quite catch it.

You've already forgotten where you are and what you're doing. And Minho? Who is Minho? You let out a chuckle and shake these silly thoughts away.

"So this is Gaspard, huh?" You say in all confidence.

"That is me," he answers, returning the confidence with a wide smile, "I'm better than you expected, I guess?"

Gaspard is confident and then gets shy in the next minute which you find charming, you smile at him and say, "I need more time to decide on that."

"That's fair," Gaspard says, offering his hand at you.

You think he's just going to shake your hand but he takes you into the crowd gathered in the middle of the room, dancing.

"A fair warning, I'm a bad dancer," you warn him as he takes your hands in his and makes you stand facing him.

"We still have time to decide on that," he pokes fun at you, taking you by the waist and pulling you close to his front.

Kim is right, Gaspard is cute and you like him already. He has just the right amount of facial hair and it grazes your cheek whenever he leans in to whisper into your ear, giving you a tingling feeling inside and outside.

After a few moments though, you find yourself panting from dancing with him. You should've known this would happen when you're dancing with a real dancer.

Since Gaspard is way taller than you, you have to put your arm around his shoulder and stand on your tiptoe to whisper to his ear, "Hey, how about we get drinks?"

"Drinks?" He asks you in confirmation since the mix of loud music and chatter is filling the room.

"Yeah," you answer while repeatedly nodding your head.

He doesn't say anything but takes your hand and leads the way through the crowd to the kitchen where bottles of liquor are strewn around on the kitchen island.

You intently watch as Gaspard is excitingly making you his special concoction. He finishes it off with a spritz of lemon before handing it to you.

"Thank you," you mutter in gratitude.

"Come on. Taste it!" He encourages you, curious of what you think of his drink-mixing skill.

Well, you've been staring at it long enough to give him the impression that you hesitate to drink it. You hurriedly take a small sip and you don't even have to lie, it's good.

"Wow!" You gasp, impressed with the drink he made.

"I know," he confidently says with a smirk and drinks his drink.

It's so refreshing and sweet like it has no alcohol at all, you hurriedly take another sip.

"It's really good," you tell him.

"Thank you," he says with a grin.

He then offers his hand at you, "Let's find somewhere to talk?"

You take his hand without question, letting him take you wherever he wants because it seems like he knows where he's going. He leads you to the backyard where everyone is hanging out by the pool.

"Hey, you!"

Recognizing the voice, your head snaps toward the source, and see Kim waving her hand at you from the long sofa that curved around a fancy fireplace.

You stop walking on your track and end up leading Gaspard there. You unconsciously let out a sigh of relief after seeing that there's no Minho there.

"Oh, hey," you greet back.

Kim scoots to the side to make space for you on the sofa, "Where have you guys been?"

"Oh, we were just dancing and he made me a drink," you honestly answer, not forgetting to show her the drink in your hand.

"And where were you going to take her, Gaspard?" Kim asks with eyes squinted at him.

"Anywhere but here," he jokingly answers.

"Well, since you guys just got here, it's your turn to play!" Someone says, you can't remember what her name is but she's one of the friends Kim introduced earlier.

"Turn to play? What?" You ask in confusion.

"Two truths and a lie," someone says.

You feel bad for not being able to remember their names, Gaspard's influence is that powerful on you.

"You know how to play, right?" Kim asks.

It's not about whether you know how to play or not, it's just so unexpected that these talented, gorgeous dancers like to play this kind of game at parties.

"Yes, I do," you answer.

Kim turns on the sofa to face you and looks at you in anticipation, "Okay then. Shoot!"

"Right now?"

"Yes," Kim shortly answers with a chuckle.

You admire their eagerness whether for the game or to know something about you, you rake your brain to think of three things about you and one of them should be a lie that would likely fool them good.

"Okay first is uhm... I'm allergic to cats," you share.

There's no response from them but you can see how they're looking at you and probably every detailed facial expression you make that will give away hints about whether you're lying or not.

"Second thing is my mom has a twin," you confidently share with a faint smile.

"Ah," Kim lowly gasps and you guess because you've shared this information with her before.

"Last thing is..." you look around as you think of the last thing to share with them.

You eventually turn to the side and see Gaspard smiling at you, "I think Gaspard is cute," you share the third thing about you.

"That's the one! That's the lie!" Someone excitedly guesses, and you suddenly remember his name as Paul.

You laugh because Gaspard looks so offended by his friend, "No, it's not a lie," you quickly defend him.

Gaspard shoots him a glare and triumphantly laughs, "Just drink, man!"

Paul drinks his beer in defeat.

"I must say the second one is the lie," the girl says again, still can't remember her name though.

"No. Her mom has a fraternal twin," Kim says, learning that information from you on the first day you moved into her apartment.

"Drink up, Jena!" Kim tells her that she guessed wrong and not wasting time but drinks her beer as a punishment.

"Oh, so you're not allergic to cats?" Gaspard asks.

"No, I'm not. I like cats," you answer.

He then sighs in relief, "That's great because I have a cat."

"Oh, wow?!" You utter in disbelief.

Other than being a great distraction, you share a lot in common with Gaspard and that says something.

"I also have cats," someone adds, joining in on the circle.

You can tell by the voice that it's the man you've been trying to avoid seeing tonight. You remain calm and have a sip of your drink.

"Yes, Minho, we all know you're a cat daddy," Jena says, finally knowing her name from Kim.

Kim groans and tosses a cushion at Jena, "Don't say that!"

Minho takes a gulp of Kim's drink and sits with his back reclined and his legs spread open, even his sitting position oozing with confidence and you eat that shit up.

You feel like slapping your face at that thought and have another sip to swallow that thought down.

"Is it my turn to play?" Minho asks around.

Jena shrugs since no one is taking the turn to play, "Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Minho softly scratches his chin before speaking, "I want to kiss someone tonight."

He starts easy but from the faint smirk on his face, you can tell he's brewing something in his mind.

"That someone is not my girlfriend," he calmly says.

Welp, there you go! Minho acts like he didn't just drop a shocking statement while his girlfriend is sitting prettily next to him.

You glance at Kim and she looks calm, but you can see that her jaws are slightly clenched. She's not happy so Minho should stop it.

But instead of calming his girlfriend, Minho looks at you and continues to share the third statement, "The person I want to kiss is one of you."

Your heart skips a beat because he keeps looking right at you and making it obvious for everyone to see who it is. All of a sudden, you feel the urge to exit this scene but walking out only makes it even more obvious.

Minho is sick of doing this to you and Kim, it's like he doesn't even care what it can do to either you or Kim.

"Oh, Minho, that's..." Paul hisses, not able to finish his sentence.

"Why, Paul?" Minho daringly asks him.

"Nothing," Paul says while scratching his head.

Minho leans forward and says, "It's you, Paul. It's you who I want to kiss."

Paul's tense face melts in a second and everyone bursts out laughing, "Fuck you, man!"

"It's you. I want to kiss you," Minho taunts him more, throwing himself at him and jokingly tries to kiss him.

Paul keeps pushing him away, sloshing his drink as he tries to dodge Minho's kiss while everyone else is laughing at them.

Even though it turns out to be a joke, you feel sick in the stomach and feel the need to get out of here.

"I need to go to the restroom," you mutter, getting up from the sofa.

Gaspard puts down his drink, "I can show you—"

"It's okay. I can go by myself," you tell him off, you regret being so crass but you're sure he'll understand.

"Okay," he says, sitting back down on the sofa.

While clutching the hem of your dress, you head back inside the house and find the bathroom to only queue to get inside, you decide to try on the second floor. You can easily find the bathroom as it's wedged between two bedrooms.

It's a party, you're sure the host would be okay with you using their bathroom, you don't even need to pee or something, you just need a space to vent.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you keep muttering to the reflection in the mirror.

When you touch your neck, you can feel a sheen of sweat there so you run your hands under the cold water and tap it to your neck.

This is the first time you realize what it'll do to you when it comes to following your desire. You'll ruin not only their relationship but also your friendship with Kim and she's been nothing but good to you.

"Fuck!" You mutter once again as you splash cold water on your face like it would help to put some sense into you.

Coming here was a bad idea!

But you're already here so you only need to stick to your plan, staying away from Minho and sticking with Gaspard. You allow yourself to spend a few more minutes just to compose yourself before coming out of the bathroom.

As you're about to climb down the stairs, the plan comes to a failure.

You see Minho is coming up the stairs and he seems to be looking for you as well from the way he stops once he finds you.

Instead of avoiding him as you planned, you feel the need to confront him about what happened a while ago. You grab the front of his shirt and take him into one of the bedrooms. The first one is locked so you try the other one and it's empty.

Once both of you are inside, you slam the door shut and push him against it.

"What the hell are you doing?" You aggressively ask, pushing his chest until his back hits the door.

"What? What am I doing?" He plays innocent but that smirk knows it all.

You slap his chest with both of your hands now but all you can feel is how firm his pecs are.

"You just don't care, do you?"

He puts his hands on each side of your waist and draws you closer, not hesitating to plant his mouth on your jaw.

"Minho!" You whine, ending up getting trapped in his hold with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

He glides his lips up and presses a kiss there on the skin under your ear, sending a tingling down your spine as his warm breath brushes your skin.

You helplessly dodge away from his lips yet somehow, he manages to capture your lips in a kiss and oh, you hate it so much! You hate how you like the way he kisses you, so passionately and hungrily, he makes it known that he wants it so much.

Okay, maybe the kiss is a slip-up and you hurriedly pull yourself out of it. You push him and pull away from the kiss.

"You know we can't do this," you mutter but you're looking at his lips, tempted to kiss him again.

He ignores your words and kisses you again, and you fall into it again. You try harder this time and break the kiss.

"Minho!" You whine, looking away to not let the temptation win again.

Using it as an opportunity, Minho plants his mouth on your ear and nibbles on it, peeling a layer off of your sanity which brings you to slip down the slope again.

Your lips are colliding again, harder and deeper, causing even more damage than the previous one as his hands go all over you and pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders.

The two logics in your head are clashing against each other, the one wants to satisfy this desire and the other wants to get out of this situation altogether. If you follow the former then at least, your curiosity will be fulfilled and if you follow the latter, then you get to keep the peace.

As you are caught in that inner battle, you blank out and stiffen against him.

"We have to stop," you mutter to him.

But is that what you want? To stop when you already have your toes dipped in the water?

Minho also takes a moment to assess the situation, he looks at you with his lips red and wet, "it has to stop," he says in agreement.

You take a step back and feel the sudden detachment as he lets go of you and you can't believe that he agrees right away that this is the better decision. You can't help but think that he doesn't want you enough.

He stays standing there, leaning against the door and looking at you with his eyes dark and wide with lust.

"So what do we do now?"

That's such a wrong thing to ask you because what you want to do now is be selfish for the night, for one fucking night, and if you're going to do it, you may as well go all in, right?

Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

"Fuck!" you heavily sigh and take down the straps of your dress, sending your breasts spilling out of the front.

"Suck my tits," you order.

It takes Minho a moment to process it and when he finally catches on that you've made up your mind, he goes for it. He comes at you full speed, hands off the brake and head first.

His mouth lathers at your breasts before sucking at them like you asked, taking them in turns, and leaving them wet with his saliva.

"Nibble on my nipples," you command.

You look down to watch him obeying you, using his tongue to nibble on your blossoming buds and alternating it with his teeth next.

"Oh, fuck," you breathlessly mutter as he sucks hard on your nipple.

While his mouth is busy latching on your breasts, his hands are snaking to the back and kneading at your asscheeks, caressing them with his fingers, and teasing your underwear.

This feels so wrong yet so good, you have your inner battle still but your logic is being defeated by your body's needs. You pull him by the shoulder and make him kiss you again so you'll stop thinking.

The rattles on the door startle you both and Minho immediately pushes the door with his back, then holds the knob to not let anyone in. Whoever tries to get it seems to figure out that the room is occupied.

"Sorry," someone says from behind the door.

Minho immediately locks the door while you take a step back from him, he gives you that look again, the kind of look that sees right through you and knows that you feel conflicted inside.

"Kim is my good friend," you tell him, feeling a pang of sadness in your chest that it aches.

He comes at you again and kisses you in which you're returning with the same eagerness. He seems to know that it's the only way to make you stop talking and thinking altogether. He pulls you closer than before his hands snaking to your rear, cupping the ample flesh in his hand.

"This is terrible," you mutter as you break the kiss so you can take your underwear off.

"This is terrible..." you mutter again, pulling him close by the waistband of his jeans and proceeding to unzip his fly open, "Betraying her like this."

It's like your body has a mind of its own, it's doing the opposite of what you're saying.

You impatiently take his semi-hard out of its confine and stroke it in your hand, "terrible," you emphasize the word and nail it deep into your head.

Minho doesn't say anything but follows what your body wants, he kisses you again, sloppily with his hands mindlessly roaming around your body.

"Touch me there," you whisper into him.

Without looking, his hand knows where to go. It goes to where you want him to be, going to the front to that wetness between your legs.

"Put your fingers in."

Minho runs his fingers down your slit repeatedly before inserting his finger into you. One digit is enough to make you moan in pleasure as he pumps it in and out of you.

"Add one more."

He draws his finger out and brings his index and middle fingers, shoving them into your mouth to wet them with your saliva. He brings them back to your entrance and slowly pushes them inside.

"Fuck, oh..." you moan, burying your head in his neck.

Two fingers are going in and out of you and you're already losing it. You start to think of what his cock would be like inside you as it feels hot and hard in your hand, pulsating with so much desire.

His lips nestle in your neck, kissing and lightly sucking on the skin as your body clings to him for support.

"Curl them— Oh!"

Minho knows what to do, he curls his fingers and carefully finds that spot that makes you whine and moan at the same time, and the lewd noise echoes in the dimly lit room.

You look over your shoulder to locate the bed and start steering his body there, walking backward without having to take hands off of each other.

He slowly pulls out and breaks the kiss only to pull your dress up, making the dress hunched around your waist. You plop down onto the bed and get on, you take a moment to continue undoing his jeans and pull it down enough to let his erection free.

Without thinking, you put his cock into your mouth, take him as much as you can and compensate for the rest you can't take with your hand. You lick and suck, alternating those two as you enjoy every inch of his delicious length with your mouth.

Minho tangles his hand in your hair and gently tugs at it, "I feel so guilty," he says.

Oh, so he's not that selfish after all but the thought of him thinking of his girlfriend with his cock deep in your mouth doesn't make you jealous at all, it makes you feel more aroused than before.

"Oh, so guilty," he says between his hoarse, low moans as he stares back into your eyes.

You slowly pull away and replace your mouth with your hand, restlessly pumping his swollen cock.

"You should be," you tell him, sticking your tongue out of your mouth and swirling it around the pink tip of his cock.

All of a sudden, he grabs your hand and takes it away from his length, he then takes your other hand to pin it against the bed. He hovers above you as he kisses you again, his tongue prying open your mouth to taste more of you.

You can feel him rubbing his length between your folds and you spread your legs open so he can do it more, making you drenched than you already are.

It's obvious to you now that you want him, you want him so bad and what you want is only inches away from you, and you can feel how much he wants you.

"Put it in," you breathlessly say against his lips.

Minho wastes no time to position himself between your legs. He then holds his cock, lubricating it with your essence and giving it a few pumps to finally aims it toward your entrance.

The more time he takes to be inside you, the more impatient you get.

"Put it deep inside me," you demand, opening your legs wider for him.

Yet Minho keeps teasing your entrance, heightening your anticipation and the tension in the room, making you arching your back at him.

When he finally pushes in, he only inserts the tip. It's just the tip but Gosh! It feels good already when he starts thrusting at a slow, steady pace.

"That's it," you say, keeping your waist afloat to take more of him, "all the way in."

Minho is just as impatient. He takes your wish as his command and pushes the rest of his length into you, hitting you deep inside that you blank out and you can't hear your own scream of pleasure.

It only registered to you now that it's all real once you take a look at how his cock is fully buried deep inside you and there's nothing like the feeling of finally having your desire fulfilled. Minho feels so good inside you, every inch of his length fills you perfectly like he was made just for you.

"Oh..." you loudly moan as he starts moving.

You're in and out of you at how hard he's thrusting into you that it reverberates throughout your body and in the middle of it, you manage to look at him, his face is masked with pleasure from the way his eyes are half shut and his lips pressed together.

Maybe the two of you want it so much that the sex feels rushed and a little rough, almost animalistic even. You can feel you're about to cum and so is he.

"Don't cum inside," you warn him before bringing his head close for a sloppy kiss on his lips.

In return, Minho goes sloppy with his thrusts that the bed quakes along with his movements and you're gripping the sheet to hold on to. He's twitching inside you and your legs are shaking. The knot in your stomach keeps tightening and you feel like exploding at any minute now.

He incessantly thrusts into you while you keep gripping the sheet, he probably senses that you're on the brink of climaxing and takes you there, sending you into your release with your eyes screwed shut, seeing white. He cums not long after you and keeps himself deep into you, completely forgetting your warning.

When it occurs to you that he completely forgot about your warning, you slowly push him away and force him to pull out of you.

"I told you not to cum inside," you whine.

Minho's eyes fixated on the way his cum drips out of you, pearly white and glistening wet, inviting him to taste. He finds a way to solve it by settling his head between your legs and licking your mixed juices off of your cunt and not hesitating to swallow it. He sucks on your gushing hole before using his tongue to insert it, he makes sure to not leave any drop of his cum in you.

Watching him eating you and swallowing his own cum is getting you off in the best way, you suddenly don't mind it that much that he cum inside you. If anything, you want him to fill you so you get to watch him do it all over again.

"Stop, Minho! Stop!" You tell him, tugging at his hair to stop him from diving further into your wetness.

He abruptly stops and lifts his head with his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. You grab him by the front of his shirt and make him hover above you again. You know you already got what you want and it's time to stop.

What are you going to do now? You ask yourself.

Seize the chance. This is probably the last time you ever had this chance and this could be the one and only chance. You roll him over and straddle him, thinking of having him again for the last time, selfishly.

Taking a moment for this could be the only chance you get to do it, you look at him and his beautiful face, and you allow yourself to kiss his lips. You're running your hands down his clothed chest and patiently unbuttoning his shirt, then part it open to reveal his toned upper half body.

It's only fair if you get to touch him all over too so you do it, using your hands and your lips next, it's just you and miles and miles of his warm, honey skin.

Minho lets you do everything as he lays on his back, watches you kissing every inch of his abdomen, and eventually has him in your mouth again. He props his hands against the bed to see how your lips wrapped around his cock.

After a while, you suddenly pull out and gasp for air, "We have to stop."

He sits up on the bed and puts your hair away from your face, "But I don't want to stop," he says, then continues putting your hair away to the back so he can kiss your neck, chest, and breasts.

They're just words, they've been just words that you say in vain and have no effect to make you stop whatsoever. You only say that just to remind you that this feels so wrong but it feels good to do it.

You sit on his lap and position his cock at your entrance again, slowly, you lower yourself on him. You let out a mewl as you take him in little by little, feeling his girth stretching you out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asks you with his hands cradling your head in between.

"We have to," you sigh with your eyes closed, overwhelmed by his cock that buries deep inside you.

"I don't want to," he breathlessly says, holding you by the waist, guiding you to start moving.

Putting your arms around his shoulders for support, you're switching between pulsating and rolling your hips around him as he latches his lips on your neck and chest.

Somehow, he feels bigger and harder inside you, and he fills you better, therefore, you just want to keep feeling his length around you. However, in the middle of it, your logic fights to come out of you.

"This is wrong," you breathlessly mutter.

"Mmh-hmm," he hums against your lips, mindlessly answering to you.

"This is so wrong, Minho," you say again as you keep moving to chase your high.

If this is wrong then why it feels so good? If this is wrong then you never want to be right. If this is wrong then you want to be a sinner, forever.

"Oh, I can't do this anymore," you cry, it's unclear whether it's the body or your conscience speaking.

"Keep going, keep going," he repeatedly mutters through his gritted teeth, watching you bouncing on his cock.

The sex is more intense and harder than the previous one, you keep holding your breath even though you're running out of air. Your nails dug into his skin, your mouth locked with his lips, and you feel a sheen of sweat forming on your skin.

It all comes down to the one moment when everything hits you all at once. Other than the wave of dopamine and oxytocin that surge through your body, you feel good, you feel light and happy, but underneath that, you feel that bitter feeling, guilt that is gnawing and eating you alive from the inside.

You open your eyes and find Minho looking at you with a soft gaze and it feels tender that you feel like crying, or you're about to as you feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

"Oh, God! What have I done?" You roughly brush the hair stuck to your moist forehead.

"It's okay," Minho says, trying to justify this act of betrayal.

"Oh, my God!" You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to stop you from crying.

Minho gently holds your chin and softly presses a kiss on your lips as if he's trying to take the pain away but that's useless because you caused this yourself and he's a part of the problem.

But his kiss no longer holds the same effect, you feel restless the more he kisses you so you slowly pull away and keep a safe space between you and him.

"Let's just stop," you say with a sigh and then rush to get off his lap. You lowly gasp from the sudden emptiness and once your feet touch the floor, you're staggering backward.

Then, you feel it, his hot cum that drips out of you and down your inner thigh.

"I can help you with that," Minho offers.

You immediately hold your hand up at him and firmly say, "Just stop!"

You start fixing your dress, putting your arm in the straps, and pulling them to your shoulders. You look around for your underwear and once you find it, you put it on.

"Kim can't know about this," you meekly say as you pull the hem of your dress and smooth them down.

There's no looking back at it now. You've got what you wanted and now it's time to move on. You turn the door knob and head out without saying anything else.

Rejoining the party downstairs, you immediately head to the kitchen to get a drink but on the way there, someone catches you by the hand.

"Come, dance with me!" Kim says with a grin, pulling you with her to the middle of the room.

"Kim, I–" you can't find anything to say to her without the guilt clogging your throat, "I need a drink."

"Here. Have mine!" She hands you her cup.

"I'll get us drinks and get back to you, okay?" You kindly refuse her but she won't let go of your hand.

"Oh, come on, it's my favorite song!" She pleads with her puppy eyes, making you feel worse than you already are.

Seeing her and how oblivious she is to what you and Minho have done is breaking your heart.

That brings you to the third and last statement: That will be the first and the last time you've had sex with Minho.

-

Things are going back to normal. Or that's what it seems to you.

You're still roommates with Kim and she's still oblivious about what you and Minho did behind her back which means he keeps true to his promise.

And yes, he still comes to the apartment but it doesn't bother you as it used to. You learn that your friendship with Kim is far more valuable than his boyfriend's cock, in fact, you've been taking her kindness for granted.

So for these past few days, you've been trying to avoid them as much as possible. You purposely come home late from work and if you do find them together in the apartment, you make excuses to stay in your bedroom.

Fewer interactions means fewer chances of this guilt from bringing you down further.

The new plan is to get your own place as soon as possible and for that to happen, you have to start looking for it.

Today, Gaspard offers to help you check a few places and it's also the perfect getaway than staying in the apartment. You quietly get dressed and slip out of your bedroom to find Kim catches you while dunking her teabag into her cup.

"Where are you going?" She asks.

You don't want to tell her about it yet that you plan on moving out soon so you make up an excuse on the spot, "Just getting a few things for work, yeah," you lie.

She tosses the teabag into the trash and uses a spoon to stir it, "Just getting a few things for work, huh?"

"Yeah, I need new work shoes," you lie again, seamlessly this time.

"And you think you don't need my help?"

"No, no," you hastily reply, "I just know how much you like staying in on the weekends."

"I would to go out on the weekend too."

Kim keeps misunderstanding you so you decide to tell her, "I'm going out with Gaspard," you admit, but keep the details from her.

Kim lets out a laugh and puts down her cup of tea, "Oh, my God! Why did you lie about it?"

"I don't know. It feels weird," you awkwardly answer.

"Why would it be weird? Cause he's my friend?"

"Yeah..." you meekly say.

She laughs again and comes up to you, "Why would it be weird that my roommate is going out with my good friend?"

That's true, this is nothing compared to fucking your roommate's boyfriend. You swallow the guilt that crawls out of your throat.

"I can lend you my shoes to match it with that cute dress?" She offers, kind as always.

"No, it's fine. It's comfortable this way," you say, opting for the sneakers you're wearing since you're going to do a lot of walking today.

"As long as you're comfortable," she says, fixing your hair as she speaks.

The front door opens and the two of you are turning your heads to see who's coming, it's none other than Minho. You hurriedly sling your purse around your shoulder and ready to leave.

"I'd better get going," you tell Kim, giving her a quick hug.

"You can come home as late as you want," she jokingly says as she hugs you back, "Actually, don't bother coming home tonight."

You laugh it off and pull away while ignoring Minho who walks to the kitchen to get something out of the fridge. You head for the door and wave bye at Kim before getting out.

-

The search for a new place comes to fruition, you have two potential living spaces but the only problem is you can't afford the rent, yet.

You end the day with a hearty dinner also as a treat for Gaspard for being so helpful and patient with you. He's simply a great guy to be with and you wonder why didn't you want to fuck him instead of Minho.

Oh fuck, you think about Minho again and it reminds you that he's in the apartment now so you stay out as late as you can. You consider Gaspard's offer to come and visit his place but you don't want to give him the impression that this is a date.

It's too casual to be counted as a date in the first place but you make sure to promise him a proper one next time.

"Maybe next time when I'm not sweaty and the day is not as humid as today," you kindly refuse the offer.

"I agree," he says as his hair turns a lot curler in this humidity and shyly brushes it to the back.

He walks you to the entrance of your apartment building and you turn on your feet to face him, "Thank you for today," you sincerely say.

"No worries. I had fun today," he coyly says with a smile.

You know he wants to kiss you and you want to kiss him too because he's just so attractive and fun to be with, he's a great guy... you can list so many reasons why you should kiss him so you muster up the courage to do it.

You stand on your tiptoe and press a kiss on his lips, putting your hand on his shoulder for support and Gaspard returns the kiss with so much gentleness with his hand cupping your jaw.

In the middle of it, you come to a realization that you kiss him for so many reasons but not because you like him. You slowly pull away from the kiss and quickly put on a smile for him.

"Goodnight, Gaspard," you mutter.

He allows himself to place a gentle caress on your cheek and smiles back at you as he says back, "Goodnight!"

The walk back to the apartment feels like a punishment. At least, it's late enough that you're sure Kim is already asleep by now so you quietly unlock the door, pushing it open without making any noise, and walk through the living room until you get to the safety of your room.

You kick your shoes off, throw your purse onto the bed, and take off your jacket, just standing there in your dress facing the huge mirror with your reflection staring back at you.

"Do you need help with that?" Minho asks through the cracks of your door.

You hate it that he's still here and you're happy to see him, you're not answering but he comes to your aid anyway. He stands right behind you and slowly unzips your dress for you.

It must be intentional the way his knuckles graze your skin as he pulls the zipper down your back.

The memories from that night come back to you and unlock all the feelings that you try to keep at the bottom of your heart.

Minho then places his hand on your shoulder and looks at you through the mirror, "Do you need help with anything else?" He asks with a voice so low it's almost like a whisper.

You turn your head to the side and meet his gaze, "No."

All sorts of thoughts come rushing through your head but it's the same contradicting questions: Take the chance or pass? Right or wrong? Continue or stop? Now or never?

Those questions going around your head and won't stop bothering you until you make up your mind.

You turn around to face him and notice how close he's standing in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat his body is emitting.

"But I'll help myself," you say and then kiss him.

Well, you guess people can tell which one is the lie now.

-

Support my blog by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!

@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @idkluvutellme @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @hanjisunginc @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @yourmomscuntis2tighy @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @avyskai @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @jebetwo @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @cutiespaghetti @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss @schniti-is-in-the-house

over matcha lattes ୨୧ to something more?

[ 승민‎ ] ✷ ‎  . . 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝖼𝖾 — 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗌 and puppies. . ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑛erdy!seungmin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader g. fluff , humour , uni!au , classmates to lovers, skz ensemble. II,3OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ L𝒾BRARY . 𓋜 . cw. bantering , jokes , intimacy. ✦ requested. ! ࿐

yani's note ! ✿ 600 followers aaaa !!!!! also new fic layout, yes, very cutesy very demure. thank you to anon for the lovely request !! >< answering more requested fics soon <3 this might have a sequel, (which is requested by another anon, again.) !! when yn and seungmo are already dating heheheheh. hope you all like it !!! comments, likes, req/asks and reblogs are always appreciated ! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading <3

y/n had always been a walking ray of sunshine. the way she bounded into the university cafeteria every morning, beaming like she had a personal spotlight, made her an unmissable presence. today was no different. with her hair loosely tied into a messy ponytail and a bright yellow cardigan that made her look like spring personified, she wove through the crowd, waving at familiar faces and exchanging cheerful hellos.

"felix!" she called out, spotting her blond-haired best friend at their usual table. felix turned around with an amused grin, holding a tray piled precariously with food.

"you look like you're auditioning for a yogurt commercial,"

"and you'd be the overworked single dad in the background trying to keep me away from sugary snacks," she shot back, grabbing one of the croissants from his tray.

behind them, hyunjin sauntered in, looking like he had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. he rolled his eyes at their banter, brushing his long hair out of his face. "can you two stop flirting for two seconds? some of us are trying to exist without getting cavities."

felix and y/n gasped in mock offense simultaneously.

"hyun, i'm wounded," y/n said, clutching her chest. "this is friendship, okay? try it sometime."

"not when it looks like a rom-com b-plot," hyunjin deadpanned, sliding into his seat.

as rina and aeri joined the group, the table quickly became a hub of laughter and noise, with jokes flying left and right.

across the room, someone, was watching.

well, watching was a strong word. more like…occasionally glancing up from his laptop. he had a prime spot at the far end of the cafeteria, where he could quietly work on his assignments. most of the time, the noise didn’t bother him. but y/n’s voice had a way of cutting through every other sound—bright, melodic, and so unapologetically full of life.

"you're staring again."

jisung’s teasing voice broke through seungmin’s thoughts. he looked up to see his friend grinning at him from across the table.

"i’m not staring," seungmin said flatly, returning to his notes.

"you’re staring," jeongin chimed in, smirking as he leaned over to snag one of jisung’s fries. "it’s okay, though. we all know you have a soft spot for the sunshine girl."

seungmin shot them both a withering look. "she’s loud. that’s all."

"loud and cute," jisung added. "don’t worry, man. it’s endearing."

before seungmin could retort, y/n’s voice rang out across the cafeteria again, this time much closer.

"seungmin!"

he froze. sure enough, there she was, skipping toward their table like she had all the time in the world.

"why do you guys always sit here by yourselves?" she asked, plopping down in the seat next to him before he could say a word. her friends trailed behind her, chatting amongst themselves but clearly amused by her antics.

"because it’s quiet," seungmin replied, his tone clipped.

"not anymore," jisung whispered, earning a glare from seungmin.

y/n didn’t seem to notice the tension. she leaned over, peering at his laptop screen. "what are you working on?"

"a paper."

"what’s it about?"

seungmin sighed. "you wouldn’t understand."

"oh, come on! try me," she said, resting her chin on her hand and giving him her full attention.

"it’s about the correlation between music theory applications and cognitive development," he said, hoping to scare her off with the overly academic phrasing.

y/n blinked. then she grinned. "that’s so cool! do you think it’s true? like, do people who understand music better think differently?"

seungmin blinked, caught off guard by her genuine curiosity. "well…yes," he admitted. "there’s some evidence that it improves problem-solving skills."

"see? you can explain it in normal-person language," y/n teased, nudging his arm.

the table erupted into laughter, and seungmin fought the urge to roll his eyes. but when he glanced at y/n, her smile was so warm and sincere that he felt his annoyance melt away just a little.

maybe she wasn’t so bad.

"careful, seungmin," jisung whispered. "you might actually start enjoying her company."

"shut it."

it was an overcast morning, the kind where the sky seemed to hold its breath, and the world below carried on in muted anticipation. y/n strolled into her economics lecture, her wavy black hair bouncing slightly as she adjusted the strap of her tote bag. her signature energy had dimmed slightly today; the clouds seemed to tug at her mood, though she masked it well with her usual bright smile.

the lecture hall was buzzing with the chatter of students, most of whom were busy complaining about their upcoming projects. y/n spotted felix waving at her from their usual spot near the back, and she hurried over, plopping into the seat beside him.

“late night again?” felix teased, nudging her with his shoulder.

“guilty,” y/n admitted, stifling a yawn. “i was helping rina practice her speech. you know how she gets—everything has to be perfect.”

felix chuckled. “you’re too nice for your own good.”

before y/n could respond, the professor—a middle-aged man with a perpetually frazzled look—strode into the room, carrying a stack of papers. he set them down with a heavy sigh, silencing the room.

“all right, everyone, settle down. as you know, your mid-semester project accounts for 30% of your grade.”

groans rippled through the room, but y/n straightened in her seat, already scribbling notes.

“i’ll be assigning you partners,” the professor continued, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “the goal is to analyze a real-world economic issue and present a comprehensive report. you’ll have three weeks to complete it.”

y/n exchanged a quick glance with felix, who smirked. “bet you’ll get stuck with someone boring,” he whispered.

“or worse,” y/n whispered back, “someone who doesn’t do their share of the work.”

the professor began calling out names, pairing students at random. y/n listened intently, silently hoping she’d be paired with someone easygoing.

“…kim seungmin and y/n l/n.”

well that wasn't surprising.

her head snapped up.

“seungmin?” she repeated under her breath, her eyes darting toward the other side of the lecture hall.

sure enough, there he was, seated near the front with his usual straight-backed posture and composed expression. he didn’t even look her way, just calmly noted down her name in his notebook.

felix snickered. “good luck. maybe you’ll finally break through his ice-cold demeanor.”

y/n gave him a playful glare before gathering her things and heading down the steps toward seungmin.

as she approached, he glanced up, his dark eyes meeting hers with the faintest hint of surprise.

“hey, partner,” she said cheerfully, trying to ignore the slight knot in her stomach. “looks like we’re stuck together for this one.”

“seems so,” he replied, his tone neutral.

his face, as always, was unreadable. his neatly styled hair and pressed shirt made him look effortlessly put-together, a stark contrast to y/n’s cozy cardigan and slightly scuffed sneakers.

“do you have time to discuss this today?” she asked. “there’s this cafe near campus where—”

“i know the one,” he interrupted. “it’s fine. let’s meet there at two.”

“great!” y/n said, her smile unwavering. “i’ll see you then.”

as the economics lecture had ended, seungmin packed up his belongings with his usual efficiency, slinging his bag over his shoulder. as he stepped out into the corridor, he was immediately intercepted by jisung, who was grinning like he’d just discovered the world’s funniest secret.

“so…” jisung began, falling into step beside him.

seungmin raised an eyebrow. “so what?”

“you’re partnered with her,” jisung said, practically vibrating with glee.

“who’s her?” jeongin chimed in, suddenly appearing at seungmin’s other side.

“y/n,” jisung answered, dragging out her name dramatically.

jeongin’s eyes widened, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. “the sunshine girl? the one who makes it her life’s mission to befriend everyone?”

“that’s the one,” jisung confirmed, nudging seungmin with his elbow. “how does it feel to be the chosen one?”

seungmin rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “it’s just a project. we’ll get it done, and that’s it.”

ryujin and yuna joined the group then, ryujin immediately catching onto the conversation. “what’s this about?” she asked, her sharp gaze darting between them.

“seungmin got paired with y/n for the econ project,” jeongin supplied, clearly enjoying the situation.

ryujin’s eyebrows shot up. “y/n? oh, this is going to be good.”

“why?” seungmin asked, his tone exasperated.

“because she’s basically your polar opposite,” yuna said, her voice light with amusement. “you avoid people; she attracts them. you’re all about efficiency; she probably spends half her time doodling in her notebooks.”

“you’re underestimating her,” yeji chimed in, catching up to the group. “she’s actually really smart. i’ve seen her in class—she’s not just about the bubbly personality.”

seungmin shot her a look of mild surprise but said nothing.

“still,” jisung said, grinning, “i can’t wait to see how this goes. who knows? maybe she’ll finally melt that ice-cold heart of yours.”

seungmin sighed. “can you all find something else to talk about?”

“not a chance,” jeongin said, and the group dissolved into laughter as they walked toward the campus courtyard.

meanwhile, y/n practically skipped out of the lecture hall, her usual energy returning in full force. she immediately spotted felix, hyunjin, rina, and aeri waiting for her near the lockers.

“well?” felix asked as soon as she approached. “who’s the lucky partner?”

“seungmin,” y/n announced, pulling her bag strap higher on her shoulder.

the group collectively froze.

“seungmin? kim seungmin?” hyunjin said, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“yup,” y/n replied, popping the “p” as she leaned against the locker.

“oh my god,” rina said, covering her mouth with her hand. “the seungmin like the class ace?”

“mr. perfectly composed,” aeri added, folding her arms. “how did that happen?”

y/n shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “guess the universe thought it’d be fun to put a sunshine and a storm cloud together.”

“do you think he’s annoyed?” felix asked, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“probably,” y/n said with a laugh. “but it’s not like i’m going to let that stop me.”

“i can already picture it,” hyunjin said, his tone dripping with melodrama. “you’ll be all smiles and rainbows, and he’ll sit there glaring at you like you’re the bane of his existence.”

“that’s probably accurate,” y/n admitted, giggling.

“you’re going to have to work hard to get through to him,” rina said. “he’s not exactly the easiest person to talk to.”

“challenge accepted,” y/n declared, holding up a fist in mock determination.

“just don’t overwhelm him,” aeri said, though her smile was teasing. “you have a tendency to… how do i put this… shine a little too brightly sometimes.”

“me? overwhelm someone?” y/n asked, feigning innocence.

“you’re very adamant.”

“but in the best way,” rina added.

“exactly,” y/n said, flashing them a grin. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a coffee date with mr. storm cloud.”

“good luck,” hyunjin called after her as she walked away.

“you’re going to need it!” felix added, laughing.

the air in the cafe was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the dreary gray of the day outside. golden light spilled through the large glass windows, painting soft highlights on the oak furniture and the framed watercolor prints lining the walls. the hum of a coffee machine harmonized with the low murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of ceramic cups.

seungmin sat near the window, his usual spot, with his arms folded and a faintly bored expression on his face. the green hue of his matcha latte swirled lazily in the mug in front of him, its foam dusted with a delicate sprinkle of matcha powder. his laptop was open, the screen already filled with meticulously organized notes for their project.

he glanced at his watch, exhaling quietly. she was late.

by two minutes.

before he could think too much about it, the cafe door opened with a cheerful chime, letting in a rush of cool air and the familiar sound of her voice.

“there you are!” y/n called, her energy somehow brighter than the café’s lighting. she waved at him, her tote bag bouncing against her side as she weaved through the tables to reach him.

“you’re late,” seungmin said flatly as she slid into the seat across from him.

“by like, two minutes,” she countered, flashing him a grin that could disarm a storm.

y/n dropped her tote bag onto the floor and leaned forward, her gaze falling on the mug in front of him. “is that a matcha latte?”

“...yes?”

her eyes widened, and she clasped her hands together dramatically. “i did not peg you as a matcha person. you just became ten times more interesting.”

seungmin raised an eyebrow, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. “and what exactly did you peg me as?”

“black coffee,” she said instantly, as if it were obvious. “you know, something bitter and unapproachable.”

“i don’t know whether to be offended or impressed by how specific that was,” he said dryly.

“take it as a compliment,” she said, waving her hand. “anyway, i’m getting one too. be right back!”

before seungmin could respond, she was already bouncing toward the counter, her black, wavy hair swishing behind her. he watched as she gestured animatedly while ordering, her voice carrying faintly over the café’s soft playlist.

when she returned, she was balancing a matcha latte in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. she set them down with a flourish, her eyes sparkling.

“now we match,” she said, nodding at their identical drinks.

seungmin stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “do you ever run out of energy?”

“nope!” she chirped, taking a sip of her latte. “i thrive on optimism, caffeine, and sheer determination.”

he gave her a look that bordered on disbelief. “that explains a lot.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, leaning forward with mock offense.

“it means,” he began, leaning back in his chair, “that you’re probably the kind of person who volunteers for everything, stays up too late, and takes on way more than you can handle.”

y/n blinked at him, caught off guard by how accurate he was.

“before you ask, let’s just say you’re not exactly subtle,”

“well,” she said, recovering quickly, “you’re not exactly a mystery, either.”

“oh?” he said, crossing his arms. “do tell.”

“you’re the guy who avoids people but secretly observes everything,” she said, counting off on her fingers. “you’re the top of our class, duh—overachiever, for sure—but you act like you don’t care about grades. and you definitely judge people silently.”

he stared at her, one corner of his mouth twitching. “not bad.”

“see? i’m not subtle, but i’m perceptive,” she said triumphantly, taking another sip of her latte.

seungmin sighed, shaking his head. “this is going to be a long three weeks.”

“oh, come on,” she said, grinning. “admit it. you’re at least a little glad we’re working together.”

“i’d rather drink bitter, unapproachable black coffee for three weeks straight,” he deadpanned.

y/n burst out laughing, drawing a few amused glances from the other tables. “you’re funny when you’re grumpy, you know that?”

“i’m not grumpy,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

“sure you’re not,” she teased, pulling out her notebook and flipping it open. “okay, mr. matcha-latte-is-my-personality, let’s get to work.”

for the next hour, they hashed out ideas for their project, their conversation an entertaining mix of intellectual debate and playful banter. y/n’s colorful pens danced across the pages of her notebook, while seungmin’s precise typing filled the spaces in between.

“wait,” y/n said suddenly, tapping her pen against her chin. “what if we include a survey? like, ask people why they prefer local coffee shops over big chains?”

seungmin looked at her, slightly impressed despite himself. “that’s actually… a good idea.”

“see?” she said, beaming. “teamwork makes the dream work.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t disagree.

as they packed up their things, y/n looked at him thoughtfully. “you know, you’re not as scary as people think.”

“and you’re more tolerable than i expected,” he replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“aw, was that a compliment?” she teased, walking beside him toward the door.

“don’t push your luck,” he said, holding the door open for her.

such a gentleman.

the next day, seungmin found himself back at the same corner table of the cafe, his laptop open, and his fingers resting lightly on the keyboard. he had arrived early again, and his usual matcha latte sat in its familiar spot, the faint green foam already starting to lose its swirl.

he glanced at his watch, fully expecting her to be a few minutes late again. sure enough, the door chimed exactly three minutes past the hour, and there she was.

“three minutes late,” seungmin remarked without looking up from his screen.

“consistent, aren’t i?” y/n chirped, setting her bag down with a thud and sliding into her seat across from him. her hair was loosely tied back today, a few stray curls framing her face.

seungmin’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “consistently late isn’t something to be proud of.”

“agree to disagree,” she replied, pulling out her notebook and a handful of pens that were, unsurprisingly, color-coded.

her latte arrived shortly after, along with a croissant she ordered, and she immediately broke off a piece, offering it to him. “want some?”

“no.”

“suit yourself,” she said, popping the piece into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “so, where were we?”

“market analysis,” seungmin said, his tone all business as he turned his laptop to show her the data he had compiled.

the next hour passed in a surprisingly productive rhythm: y/n sketching out ideas with colorful diagrams and annotations, and seungmin structuring their findings into coherent sections. but, as always, their conversation veered off course every now and then.

“why are you so into matcha, anyway?” y/n asked at one point, leaning her chin on her hand.

seungmin paused, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. “it’s subtle. balanced. not overly sweet.”

“so, basically the opposite of me,” she quipped with a grin.

“exactly,” he said without missing a beat.

y/n laughed, the sound light and contagious. “you know, you’re a lot funnier than people give you credit for.”

“maybe people just don’t pay attention,” he replied, smirking slightly.

“or maybe you’re secretly a comedian and no one’s cracked the code yet,” she said, scribbling something in her notebook.

seungmin glanced at her notebook. “are you doodling again?”

“it’s brainstorming,” she said defensively, holding up the page. it was covered in little clouds and stars alongside bullet points about their project.

he sighed, though there was no real annoyance in it. “i don’t know how your brain works.”

“and yet,” she said with a wink, “here we are. perfectly balanced, like your precious matcha.”

the cafe became their unofficial meeting spot, the hum of the espresso machines and the chatter of students forming a familiar backdrop to their study sessions.

each day followed a similar pattern. seungmin would arrive early, his notes already meticulously organized. y/n would burst in a few minutes late, full of energy and carrying an ever-changing assortment of pastries.

their conversations became less about the project and more about each other as the days passed.

“you were in the debate club in high school?” y/n asked one day, wide-eyed.

“briefly,” seungmin admitted, not looking up from his laptop.

“i can totally see it,” she said, nodding. “all calm and logical, probably tearing your opponents apart with facts and wit.”

“is that your way of saying i’m argumentative?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“no, it’s my way of saying you’re scary smart,” she said, grinning.

he didn’t respond, but she noticed the faintest hint of color rise to his cheeks.

another day, y/n told him about her childhood. “i used to write letters to random people in the neighborhood,” she said, laughing at the memory. “just little notes, you know? telling them to have a great day or sharing a joke. my mom thought i was nuts.”

“that tracks,” seungmin said dryly, though there was a soft smile tugging at his lips.

by the end of the first week, their dynamic had settled into an easy rhythm. y/n’s chatter filled the spaces seungmin left, and his quick, witty remarks kept her on her toes.

one evening, as the cafe began to empty out, y/n looked at him thoughtfully. “you know, i think we’re not as different as we seem.”

seungmin glanced up, curious. “how so?”

“you act all cold and distant, but you’re actually super thoughtful,” she said, pointing her pen at him. “and i might seem like i’m all over the place, but i actually work really hard to make things perfect.”

he considered her words for a moment, then nodded. “maybe you’re right.”

“of course i am,” she said, smiling.

the usual morning buzz of the café wrapped around y/n as she entered, her tote bag slung over her shoulder. the golden glow of the hanging lights reflected off her black curls as she scanned the room, finding their usual spot by the window empty. for once, she had beaten seungmin here.

sliding into the seat that was unofficially hers now, she set her things down and strolled to the counter. today, she had a plan.

“i’ll have a caramel macchiato,” she said brightly to the barista, “and—oh, a matcha latte as well. to go with it.”

the barista smiled, tapping the order into the screen. y/n hummed along with the soft café music as she waited, glancing toward the door every now and then. the matcha latte wasn’t for her—it was for him.

the drinks arrived quickly, and y/n carried them back to the table, placing the matcha latte on his side of the table with a satisfied nod. she had barely taken a sip of her macchiato when the café door chimed, and seungmin walked in.

he paused when he saw her sitting there, looking unusually early, sipping her drink and doodling in the margins of her notebook. his gaze flickered to the matcha latte already waiting on the table.

“you’re early,” he said as he approached, his voice as calm and measured as always.

“surprise,” she said cheerfully, lifting her drink in a mock toast. “and i got you this.” she nodded toward the matcha latte.

seungmin blinked, momentarily thrown off. he stared at the latte, then back at her. “you got me a matcha latte?”

“yep. extra foam, no sugar. that’s how you like it, right?” she said, her tone breezy.

his lips parted slightly in surprise, and for a split second, she thought he might actually smile. “you noticed that?”

y/n shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the rush of pride she felt. “well, we’ve been meeting here for over a week. i’d have to be pretty oblivious not to notice.”

seungmin slid into his seat, his expression carefully neutral. but the faintest trace of warmth flickered in his eyes as he picked up the cup. “thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” she said, grinning. “see? i can be thoughtful too.”

he rolled his eyes but took a sip, the familiar flavor calming him more than he cared to admit. “don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late,” she teased, leaning her chin on her hand.

they had just begun discussing their final outline when the café door opened again, letting in a gust of cool air and a burst of familiar voices.

“hey, isn’t that y/n?” ryujin’s voice rang out, loud enough to turn a few heads. she was flanked by yuna and yeji, with jisung and jeongin trailing behind. minho followed at a leisurely pace, his hands shoved into his pockets.

y/n waved them over, her face lighting up. “guys!”

seungmin groaned under his breath, already bracing himself for the chaos about to ensue.

ryujin reached the table first, her sharp eyes immediately landing on seungmin. “well, well. didn’t expect to see you here with y/n.”

“we’re working on a project,” seungmin said flatly, glancing at her with mild annoyance.

“sure you are,” ryujin said, smirking as she slid into the seat beside y/n.

yuna and yeji sat down on the other side of y/n, while jisung and jeongin squeezed into the remaining space. minho stayed standing, leaning casually against the back of seungmin’s chair.

“is that a matcha latte?” jisung asked, pointing at seungmin’s cup.

seungmin raised an eyebrow. “yes. is that a problem?”

“not at all,” jisung said with a grin. “just didn’t think you’d be into something so…trendy.”

“trendy?” seungmin repeated, his tone incredulous.

“leave him alone,” y/n interjected, swatting jisung lightly on the arm. “matcha is great, and seungmin has good taste.”

seungmin glanced at her, surprised by her defense. “thanks…i guess.”

the group erupted into teasing laughter, and seungmin groaned again, this time louder. “this is exactly why i don’t hang out with you people.”

“oh, come on, seungmin,” ryujin said, nudging his shoulder. “you secretly love us.”

“i really don’t,” he said, deadpan.

but even as the banter continued, y/n noticed the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. it was fleeting, barely there—but it was enough.

as the conversation swirled around them, y/n leaned closer to him, her voice low enough for only him to hear. “see? it’s not so bad having company.”

he shot her a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. “you’re exhausting.”

“and yet, here you are,” she said with a wink.

seungmin didn’t reply, but he took another sip of his matcha latte, the warmth of the drink matching the faint warmth in his chest. maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad after all.

the study session had gone by surprisingly smoothly, the usual mix of bickering and banter lightening the load of the project. the rest of their friends had left the café an hour ago, leaving y/n and seungmin to finish up the last few points of their outline in relative peace.

“so,” y/n began, stretching her arms over her head, “are we done for today?”

seungmin glanced at his notes, then at her. “i think so. unless you want to go over the market strategy again.”

“i’d rather not,” she said with a laugh, leaning back in her chair.

he closed his laptop with a soft click and stood up, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “then we’re done.”

as they stepped out of the café, the late afternoon sunlight cast a warm, golden glow over the campus. the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of autumn leaves, and the streets were alive with the chatter of students heading to their next destination.

“wanna take a walk?” y/n asked suddenly, looking up at him.

seungmin hesitated for a moment before nodding. “sure.”

they strolled along the tree-lined paths, the leaves crunching softly under their shoes. y/n swung her bag idly by her side, her energy a little more subdued than usual.

seungmin noticed her glancing at her phone every few minutes, her brows furrowing slightly each time. he didn’t say anything at first, but as the minutes ticked by, her unease became harder to ignore.

“you’ve been checking your phone a lot,” he said finally, his tone casual but pointed.

y/n looked up, startled. “oh, it’s nothing.”

“doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, studying her carefully.

she hesitated, biting her lip. “it’s really not a big deal. just… a thing.”

seungmin raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. instead, he changed the subject. “you know, for someone who’s always so cheery, you’re not great at hiding when something’s bothering you.”

y/n let out a small laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “guess i’m not as subtle as i thought.”

“nope,” he said, smirking slightly.

they continued walking, the conversation drifting to lighter topics. y/n told him about the time she tried to bake cookies and accidentally used salt instead of sugar, while seungmin recounted the disastrous group project he’d been part of in high school.

at one point, they stopped by a small fountain in the center of campus, the water sparkling in the golden light. y/n leaned against the edge, her face tilted up toward the sky.

“you ever think about how weird life is?” she said suddenly, her voice soft.

seungmin looked at her, surprised by the shift in her tone. “weird how?”

“like…how people come and go. how things change so fast, and you don’t even realize it until it’s already happened,” she said, her fingers trailing absently along the edge of the fountain.

he didn’t respond immediately, letting her words hang in the air. “yeah,” he said finally. “but that’s just how it is. you can’t control it.”

“i know,” she said, sighing. “it’s just…sometimes i wish things could stay the same, you know?”

seungmin watched her for a moment, the soft sunlight catching in her hair, turning it into a halo of dark curls. he didn’t know what was going on in her head, but for some reason, he found himself wanting to figure it out.

“you’re not as complicated as you think you are,” he said, breaking the silence.

y/n turned to him, blinking. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he shrugged. “you’re easy to read. you care too much, you worry too much, and you’re too nice for your own good.”

she stared at him for a moment, then smiled. “is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“take it however you want,” he said, smirking.

as the evening wore on, they found themselves back near the café, the warm glow of the windows spilling onto the sidewalk.

“thanks for hanging out,” y/n said as they stopped outside.

“didn’t have much of a choice,” seungmin replied, though there was no edge to his tone.

y/n laughed, the sound light and genuine. “you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be, you know.”

“don’t push your luck,” he said, but his lips quirked up in the faintest of smiles.

as they parted ways, y/n glanced at her phone one last time, her smile faltering slightly. seungmin noticed, his chest tightening with a feeling he didn’t quite understand.

he didn’t ask, not yet. but something about her quiet moments of worry lingered in his mind long after she was gone.

the morning sun cast a soft glow over the campus, but y/n barely noticed it. her fingers twitched against her phone screen, unlocking it for the hundredth time that morning. nothing. no updates.

she exhaled, locking it again, stuffing it into her coat pocket as her legs carried her to the usual meeting spot—a bench under the giant oak tree near the university fountain. felix, hyunjin, rina, and aeri were already there, their laughter blending into the murmur of passing students.

“hey, superstar,” felix greeted, his dimpled smile in place. “finally decided to grace us with your presence?”

y/n forced a smile, but hyunjin narrowed his eyes immediately. “you didn’t sleep well, did you?”

she waved him off. “i’m fine.”

aeri crossed her arms. “liar. you’ve been checking your phone like your life depends on it.”

rina sighed, her voice gentler. “still no news?”

y/n shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek. “i just.. i just hope things work out.”

felix leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “you should stop worrying so much. it’s not like you can do anything more.”

“i could,” y/n mumbled, picking at her sleeve.

hyunjin clicked his tongue. “y/n. you did everything you could. more than anyone else would.”

“but that doesn’t mean it’s enough.” her voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of something much heavier.

aeri’s expression softened. “we know how much this means to you. but stressing yourself out isn’t going to change anything.”

y/n stayed silent, staring at her shoes.

the group lapsed into silence for a moment, the usual morning energy dimmed by the unspoken understanding hanging between them.

then, suddenly—

“okay, enough doom and gloom,” felix announced, standing up dramatically. “we have classes to suffer through, and y/n, you have a reputation to maintain as our radiant ball of sunshine.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped her.

hyunjin threw an arm around her shoulder, squeezing lightly. “see? there’s the smile. let’s keep it that way, yeah?”

she hummed noncommittally, but as they all walked to class together, her fingers still itched to check her phone again.

meanwhile.

seungmin had barely sat down at their usual cafeteria table when jisung slid into the seat beside him with all the grace of an overly excited squirrel.

“so,” jisung started, grinning. “how’s your little study buddy?”

seungmin exhaled sharply through his nose, already regretting every life choice that had led him here. “no.”

jeongin, sitting across from them, leaned forward, clearly entertained. “what do you mean, ‘no’? we didn’t even say anything yet.”

“you don’t have to,” seungmin deadpanned, stabbing at his rice with his chopsticks.

ryujin, yuna, and yeji all exchanged looks before turning to him in unison. ryujin smirked. “so. how’s y/n?”

seungmin chewed slowly, staring blankly at his tray like the answers to life’s problems were hidden somewhere between his kimchi and his soup. “fine.”

jisung gasped, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “fine? that’s all we get? kim seungmin, the master of unnecessary detail and sarcasm, is suddenly giving us fine?”

yeji leaned in. “what’s she like when she studies? still yapping?”

“she never stops talking,” seungmin muttered, rubbing his temple.

yuna giggled. “sounds like you had so much fun.”

“ecstatic.”

jeongin raised an eyebrow. “but you keep showing up.”

seungmin clicked his tongue, irritated. “because we have a project. unlike you clowns, i care about my grades.”

jisung dramatically wiped a fake tear. “we’re clowns, but you chose to sit here.”

minho, who had been silently eating until now, finally spoke up. “so, you actually like hanging out with her, huh?”

the entire table went silent.

seungmin paused mid-bite, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “i tolerate her.”

jeongin snorted. “that’s seungmin for i-actually-enjoy-her-company.”

“i do not—”

“oh my god, guys,” jisung gasped, eyes widening as if he had just discovered the meaning of life. “what if he is the one who talks more when they’re together? what if he’s the one who yaps?”

the table erupted into laughter while seungmin sat there, unimpressed, arms crossed.

“be serious,” seungmin said flatly. “me? talkative?”

ryujin leaned her chin on her hand, grinning. “well, y/n does have a way of getting people to open up.”

seungmin scoffed, looking back down at his food. “yeah, well. doesn’t mean anything.”

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. “sure, sure. but if you ever start writing your songs about her, let us know.”

minho smirked. “or if you suddenly develop a taste for matcha lattes.”

seungmin groaned, dropping his chopsticks onto his tray. “i hate all of you.”

but even as his friends laughed and teased, he couldn’t stop the brief thought that flickered in his mind—

y/n had ordered a matcha latte for him yesterday.

and, annoyingly enough, it had tasted just a little bit better than usual.

the golden glow of the setting sun stretched across the city, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. the air was crisp, carrying the scent of autumn leaves, freshly brewed coffee from nearby shops, and the faintest whiff of something sweet—perhaps a bakery down the street, or maybe just the anticipation curling in y/n’s stomach.

she adjusted the tote bag slung over her shoulder, her fingers tightening around the straps as she, hyunjin, and felix approached the same, familiar place.

the soft jingling of the bell above the glass door greeted them as they stepped inside, the warmth of the small space wrapping around them like a hug.

the scent of pet shampoo and fresh kibble mixed with the quiet murmurs of staff and the occasional soft barks from the kennels. y/n immediately scanned the room, her heart squeezing as her eyes landed on a familiar golden figure curled up in the corner.

“star,” she breathed, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.

the golden retriever perked up at the sound of her voice, his deep brown eyes lighting up as he scrambled to his feet, tail thumping wildly against the floor. his scarred eyebrow lifted slightly, his head tilting as if in disbelief before he rushed toward the gate of his enclosure, whining softly.

felix chuckled beside her. “that’s one hell of a welcome.”

hyunjin smirked. “almost makes me jealous.”

y/n shot them a look before crouching down, slipping her fingers through the gaps in the bars to brush against the soft fur of star’s head. “hi, baby,” she cooed, her voice dropping into that sweet, affectionate tone she only ever used for him. “did you miss me?”

star pressed his nose against her fingers, letting out a low, contented whimper as his tail wagged even harder.

a familiar voice spoke up from behind the counter. “you know, i think he waits for you every day.”

y/n looked up to see hana, one of the adoption center staff, smiling at her from behind the desk. she was leaning against it, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with knowing eyes.

y/n straightened up, brushing her hands on her jeans. “any news?”

hana’s smile faded slightly, and she sighed, shaking her head. “not yet. a few people came in, but they were looking for younger pups. star's still waiting.”

y/n bit her lip, glancing down at the dog who was still pressed against the gate, big brown eyes watching her intently.

her chest ached.

felix noticed, nudging her shoulder. “hey, it’s only been a little while. he’s gonna find the perfect home.”

y/n nodded, but she didn’t respond. instead, she reached into her tote bag, pulling out a small packet of homemade dog treats wrapped neatly in brown paper. she unwrapped it carefully and slipped one through the bars, watching as star took it gently from her fingers.

“you made him more treats?” hyunjin asked, amused.

she gave him a look. “of course. he deserves them.”

hana chuckled. “you’re probably spoiling him more than his future owner will.”

y/n only smiled, watching star nibble on the treat, his tail wagging slower now, more content than excited. she reached forward again, scratching behind his ears, her fingers brushing lightly against the scar above his eye.

she hated that scar. hated the reminder of what he had been through before he ended up here. hated that someone had hurt him enough to leave marks on his body.

star suddenly licked her fingers, snapping her out of her thoughts. she blinked, then let out a soft laugh.

“thanks, baby,” she murmured, rubbing his head. “guess i needed that.”

felix and hyunjin exchanged a glance but said nothing.

after a moment, y/n sighed, straightening up. “i’ll come back tomorrow.”

hana smiled. “i’m sure he’ll be waiting.”

y/n looked back down at star one last time before stepping away. but as she turned toward the door, she felt it—that nagging, sinking feeling that sat deep in her chest, whispering words she didn’t want to hear.

what if no one ever comes for him?

the streetlights flickered on as the sun dipped lower, washing the city in gold and deepening shades of blue. cars rumbled past, the occasional honk slicing through the air, but to y/n, everything felt muted—like a muffled symphony playing in the background of her mind.

she walked between the two, her steps a little slower than usual, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her oversized cardigan. she wasn’t talking as much, and that was rare.

felix noticed first. “you’re quiet,” he murmured, glancing at her from the side.

y/n hummed, eyes fixed on the pavement. “just thinking.”

hyunjin sighed. “about star.”

she didn’t answer right away. instead, she kicked a small pebble on the sidewalk, watching as it bounced ahead of them before rolling to a stop. then, softly—“he’s been there for so long.”

felix’s lips pressed into a thin line. “he’ll find a home.”

y/n exhaled slowly, hugging herself. “what if he doesn’t?”

hyunjin nudged her shoulder. “you don’t know that.”

“i don’t not know that either.”

the three of them fell silent for a few beats, the sounds of the city filling the space between them. a warm breeze tousled y/n’s hair, but it did little to chase away the weight settling in her chest.

“he’s such a good pup,” she murmured. “so kind, so sweet. and he’s still waiting for someone.”

hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “yeah, because the right person hasn’t come yet.”

y/n swallowed, shaking her head. “i wish i could take him back.”

felix reached over, squeezing her arm gently. “we know.”

her throat tightened, but she forced a smile. “why am i like this? why do i care so much?”

“because you’re you,” felix said simply. “you love things deeply. it’s who you are.”

hyunjin smirked. “it’s a little pathetic, honestly.”

y/n scoffed, shoving his arm.

but the teasing had done its job—her shoulders had relaxed just a little.

they turned a corner, nearing the familiar street where the café sat. the warm glow of its windows spilled onto the pavement, the sight usually filling y/n with comfort. but today, it only reminded her that she was late.

“crap,” she muttered, checking her phone. “seungmin’s probably gonna be pissed.”

felix snorted. “when is he not pissed?”

“you should walk in and act like nothing happened, just to see his reaction.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small chuckle that slipped out.

felix gave her one last reassuring squeeze before they reached the café. “you gonna be okay?”

y/n nodded, inhaling deeply before flashing them a grin—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “yeah. go home before you guys start acting like overprotective mums.”

hyunjin gave her a look. “too late.”

she laughed softly, waving them off before stepping into the café.

but even as the bell jingled overhead, announcing her arrival, and the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapped around her like a familiar embrace—

her heart was still with a golden-furred boy, waiting for a home.

the café was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air outside. the scent of espresso and vanilla swirled around y/n as she stepped inside, but tonight, the usual coziness of the place did little to lift the weight pressing down on her shoulders.

the space buzzed with quiet conversations, the occasional scrape of a chair against the wooden floor, and the low hum of indie music filtering through the speakers. a couple of students sat by the windows, heads buried in textbooks, while others scrolled through laptops, half-empty cups of coffee beside them.

and there, by their usual table in the corner—was seungmin.

he sat with his arms crossed, a glass of water in front of him, its ice long since melted and glass covered with tiny droplets. his phone rested on the table, face-down, but the second he heard the door’s bell chime, his head lifted. his gaze found hers almost immediately.

a sharp glance. then, a slow raise of his brows.

y/n gulped. oh boy.

she hurried over, pulling the chair out with a quiet scrape and plopping down with an apologetic smile. “hey—”

“you’re late.”

the two words were flat, unimpressed, dripping with that classic seungmin deadpan tone.

y/n winced. “i know, i know—i’m so sorry. i lost track of time.”

seungmin exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “you always lose track of time.”

y/n bit her lip, fingers toying with the hem of her sleeve. usually, she’d fire back with some kind of playful retort. usually, she’d tease him about how he was so dramatic. usually, she’d flash a grin and brush it off.

but tonight, she just muttered a quiet, “yeah… i guess i do.”

seungmin blinked, caught slightly off guard. he had been expecting her usual antics, not this quiet, subdued version of her. his gaze flickered over her face—she wasn’t meeting his eyes, instead staring at the table, her fingers still fidgeting.

something was off.

he leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed. “alright. spill it.”

y/n finally looked up. “huh?”

“you’re too quiet,” seungmin said simply. “it’s weird. i don’t like it.”

y/n huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “you’re acting like me not talking is a crime.”

“it is,” seungmin deadpanned. “you talk so much that i’m convinced if you ever stop, the universe will collapse in on itself.”

y/n let out a soft chuckle. “well, lucky for the universe, i’m still here.”

seungmin narrowed his eyes, scanning her expression. the laugh had been small, but it wasn’t real. and that wasn’t lucky for the universe—it was concerning.

something was definitely wrong.

but seungmin wasn’t the type to pry. at least, not directly.

instead, he reached for his matcha latte, taking a slow sip before saying, “you’re late by twenty-five minutes, by the way.”

y/n groaned, slumping against the table. “i know. i already said sorry.”

seungmin hummed. “i had to sit here. alone. staring at the wall. like some abandoned, unloved creature.”

y/n peeked up at him. “so you feel loved in my company?”

“i ordered water, alone, y/n.” seungmin shook his head, sighing. “do you understand how humiliating that was? the barista asked, ‘are you waiting for someone?’ and i had to say, ‘yeah, but she’s twenty-five minutes late and probably forgot i exist.’”

y/n groaned again, burying her face in her arms. “stop making me feel worse.”

“oh, i’m just getting started.” seungmin leaned in. “twenty-five minutes of my life that i will never get back.”

y/n lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “i should’ve been later.”

seungmin smirked. “you wouldn’t dare.”

she let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head. “why, is it because you'll miss me so much?”

“here we are.” seungmin gestured between them. “trapped in this academic partnership of doom.”

y/n rolled her eyes, finally sitting up straight. “fine. i’m making it up to you.”

“oh?”

y/n lifted her hand, signaling the passing barista. “two matcha lattes, please.”

the barista nodded, jotting it down. “same as always?”

y/n glanced at seungmin’s half-empty water before nodding. “yeah. same.”

seungmin stared at her for a second longer, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

he looked away, suddenly very focused on the condensation on his cup. “you’re still late.”

y/n grinned, finally—finally—looking a little like herself again. “yeah, but you’re not mad anymore.”

seungmin scoffed. “i was never mad.”

“even better.”

the matcha latte arrived a few minutes later, and y/n pushed it toward him with a triumphant look. “peace offering.”

seungmin rolled his eyes but took the cup anyway, sipping it slowly. the warmth spread through him, though he wasn’t sure if it was just from the drink anymore.

he glanced at y/n again. she still seemed a little distant—her fingers tapping idly against the table, her eyes unfocused at times. but she was trying. she was here.

and for now, that was enough.

the dorm was warm, buzzing with laughter and the easy comfort of friends who had long since learned how to exist in each other’s spaces. the soft hum of music played in the background, barely audible over the sound of hyunjin dramatically retelling some ridiculous story from his dance class, complete with exaggerated gestures and poorly executed sound effects.

"i swear, i almost died," hyunjin declared, sprawled across y/n’s bed like a lifeless corpse.

felix snorted, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "you tripped over your own foot, dude."

"it was sabotage!" hyunjin shot up, jabbing a finger in the air. "jeongin pushed me!"

rina, lying upside down on the couch, waved a dismissive hand. "jeongin literally isn't even in dance."

"then it was minho," hyunjin insisted, brows furrowed like he was solving the biggest mystery of his life. "he has it out for me."

aeri rolled her eyes. "everyone has it out for you because you’re annoying."

hyunjin gasped, clutching his chest. "how dare—"

"she’s not wrong," felix muttered under his breath.

"okay, okay," y/n giggled, lying comfortably on the floor with her legs propped up against the couch. "next story before hyunjin starts fake crying again."

felix grinned, eyes twinkling mischievously. "oh, i have one—"

but before he could even begin, y/n’s phone buzzed.

a single text.

from hana.

her heart stuttered. for a second, she just stared at the screen, her brain struggling to process what she was reading.

hey, y/n!just a heads up—there’s someone interested in star! they’re about 90% sure about adopting him, and they’ll be coming back tomorrow to make a final decision! :)

y/n’s breath caught.

the words blurred together, her brain tripping over itself to comprehend them. someone was interested. someone wanted star. he could actually, finally, hopefully have a home.

her fingers trembled as they hovered over the screen.

this was good. this was amazing.

so why did it feel like her heart had suddenly stopped?

"uh… y/n?"

she blinked.

four pairs of eyes were locked on her, concern etched across their faces.

"what happened?" felix asked, sitting up.

"you just froze,"

"dude, you looked like you saw a ghost."

y/n opened her mouth. then closed it. then opened it again—only to stay silent.

hyunjin waved a hand in front of her face. "did she get cursed or something?"

and just like that, it hit her.

excitement, relief, joy—everything crashed into her all at once.

her face lit up, and she jumped to her feet so suddenly that she almost knocked over the coffee table. "oh my god."

hyunjin flinched. "jesus—"

"what?!" aeri demanded, grabbing her wrist.

y/n practically bounced on her feet, barely able to contain herself. "someone’s interested in star!!"

the room fell silent for half a second—then erupted.

"no way!" felix shot up, eyes wide.

"are you serious?" hyunjin nearly knocked over a pillow in his excitement.

y/n nodded wildly, hands shaking with pure, unfiltered joy. "yes—yes—yes—hana just texted me! they’re not fully sure yet, but they’re 90% sure!!"

rina gasped. "that’s so close—"

"and precise.."

aeri covered her mouth. "oh my god, y/n!"

and then, suddenly, it was all too much.

tears pricked at the corners of her eyes before she could stop them, her vision going blurry as she let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "i—i'm just—so happy—"

felix reached over, wrapping her in a tight hug. "oh, y/n," he murmured. "that’s amazing."

aeri and rina piled in next, squishing her between them, and before she knew it, hyunjin tackled the group too, his arms nearly choking the life out of all of them.

"group hug!" hyunjin declared.

"hyunjin—"

"can’t breathe—"

"worth it!"

laughter bubbled up between them, the warmth of their shared happiness filling every corner of the room.

y/n sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she pulled back. "i just—" she took a deep breath, voice trembling with excitement. "i really hope it works out. i just want him to have a home."

felix squeezed her hand. "he will."

hyunjin nodded, a rare moment of sincerity in his usually dramatic demeanor. "and if it doesn’t, we’ll figure something out. together."

y/n’s heart swelled.

for a moment, she just looked at them—at felix’s soft, knowing smile, at hyunjin’s reassuring nod, at aeri and rina’s equally teary eyes.

her family.

her people.

the streets were alive with the kind of lazy energy only a weekend morning could bring—bustling yet unhurried, kissed by golden sunlight filtering through the trees. cafés spilled over with students nursing their first coffees of the day, a soft hum of chatter filling the air. the crisp autumn breeze carried the scent of freshly baked bread from a bakery down the street, mingling with the faint aroma of brewing coffee from their usual café.

but amidst it all, y/n’s voice was the loudest thing in the universe.

“i have to tell them everything about star,” she declared, walking ahead of the group with an urgency that made it look like she was on a life-or-death mission.

“i need to make sure they know his likes, dislikes—what makes him happy, what makes him sad—oh my god, what if they don’t get him the right treats—”

“are we sure she’s not the one being put up for adoption?”

“i heard that, felix.”

aeri chuckled, shoving her hands into the pockets of her oversized hoodie. “yeah, yeah. tell us, y/n. what else does star like?”

y/n didn’t even need to be asked twice.

“he loves belly rubs,” she continued, voice animated. “and he’s not very picky about food, but he does this little head tilt when he really likes something, and it’s the cutest thing ever—”

rina cooed. “that sounds so cute—”

“it is,” y/n stressed, turning to walk backward as she spoke, her arms flailing in exaggerated enthusiasm.

“and he’s so well-behaved. like, when i tell him to sit, he actually listens—unless he’s too excited, then he just kind of vibrates in place—”

hyunjin snorted. “so basically, he’s you.”

i do not vibrate in place!”

“you kinda do.”

“i mean,” aeri chimed in, barely holding back her laughter. “look at you right now.”

and okay, fine. maybe they had a point.

because if she were to take an honest look at herself, she was bouncing on her feet slightly, practically vibrating with excitement.

but in her defense, this was a big deal.

she turned back around with a huff. “whatever. the point is—he loves people. he’s such a good boy. but he hates loud noises—like thunder? oh my god, you should’ve seen him last time. i thought my heart was gonna break.”

the group collectively awed.

rina pouted. “poor baby.”

y/n nodded solemnly. “and he’s super smart! like, he knows when i’m sad, and he just leans against me like a little weighted blanket—”

felix grinned. “again. just like you.”

“i swear to god, lee felix—”

laughter erupted through the group, bouncing off the city walls as they continued down the street, the adoption center now coming into view.

hyunjin slung an arm around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close for a second before dramatically ruffling her hair. “you’re really gonna cry, huh?”

y/n scoffed, but her lips twitched upward. “me? cry? never.”

aeri smirked. “uh-huh. sure.”

rina grinned. “we’ll see about that.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but truthfully?

she wasn’t so sure they were wrong.

the adoption center was just a few steps away now, its familiar glass doors reflecting the bright morning light. y/n’s feet slowed, just slightly, and for the first time since they left, her voice wavered.

“i’ll miss him.”

it was quiet—soft. almost lost in the weekend bustle of the city.

felix, walking beside her, immediately noticed. his teasing expression faded into something gentler, something understanding. “yeah,” he said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “i know.”

hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “you really love that dog, huh?”

y/n let out a small laugh, but it was thinner now, fragile. “of course,” she admitted.

aeri and rina exchanged a glance before moving closer, their presence warm, comforting. rina linked their arms together. “hey,” she said softly, “he’s gonna find a really good home.”

y/n nodded, swallowing. “i know.”

and she did know. she knew this was what she wanted—for star to be safe, to be happy. but still. the idea of walking into that adoption center today and possibly realizing that she’d seen him for the last time?

it hurt.

felix draped an arm over her shoulder, squeezing. “we’re here,” he murmured as they reached the doors. “ready?”

y/n inhaled, exhaled. then, she nodded.

“yeah.”

but the moment she stepped inside and saw him—his golden fur catching the sunlight, his tail wagging the second he saw her—she knew.

she was so not ready.

the adoption center was quiet—eerily so. it was one of those rare slow mornings, the usual chatter of visitors absent, leaving only the distant hum of traffic outside and the occasional bark from the kennels. the air smelled faintly of wood shavings and the subtle sweetness of pet shampoo, the kind that lingered in fur like a soft embrace.

but none of that mattered.

because the moment y/n stepped inside, he was all she could see.

“star!”

the golden retriever perked up instantly at the sound of her voice, his floppy ears twitching before he launched himself toward her with uncontainable excitement. his tail wagged wildly, his whole body practically vibrating as he reached her.

y/n barely had a second to prepare before she was tackled—star standing on his hind legs, paws pressed against her as he buried his face into her neck.

“oh my god—you menace—” y/n laughed, stumbling slightly but hugging him nonetheless, burying her face into his fur. he smelled warm, familiar, like something safe. “did you miss me? huh? did you miss me, baby?”

star whined, licking her cheek in rapid, enthusiastic swipes.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

felix snickered from behind. “he’s actually insane about you.”

hyunjin nodded. “i mean, i get it. you do vibrate like he does.”

y/n shot them both a glare but was too busy giggling as star flopped onto his back, belly fully exposed. “ugh, fine,” she sighed dramatically, crouching down. “you win. belly rubs for you, your majesty.”

star's tail thumped against the floor excitedly as she ran her hands through his fur, tracing small patterns over his stomach. he exhaled happily, stretching his legs as if to demand 'more, human.'

“god,” aeri mused. “imagine being loved this much.”

rina smirked. “maybe if you rolled over and asked nicely—”

aeri shoved her.

“ooh, i ship!” hyunjin and felix said in unison.

meanwhile, hana leaned against the counter with a soft smile. “you got here just in time,” she said. “the guy who showed interest might be coming soon.”

y/n froze for half a second before she forced herself to keep scratching behind star's ears.

“oh,” she said, voice light, casual. “right. that’s—good.”

felix and hyunjin exchanged a glance.

“you okay?” hyunjin asked.

y/n smiled at star, watching as his eyes fluttered shut in pure bliss.

“i’m okay,” she murmured. “i just wanna enjoy this for a little longer.”

hyunjin and felix didn’t push. instead, they sat down nearby, letting her have her moment.

because even though she was smiling, they knew.

this was going to be really hard for her.

a little while later, the girl and the pup had retreated to the playroom. it was warm, filled with the scent of fresh pinewood shavings and soft blankets. the room was lined with plush beds, shelves of toys, and the occasional scratching post—even though star had zero interest in anything but y/n.

she sat cross-legged on the padded floor, giggling as the golden retriever nuzzled into her, his weight nearly knocking her over. “star, you clingy little baby,” she cooed, rubbing his ears as his tail wagged violently, his entire body practically humming with joy.

y/n flopped onto her back with a sigh, her fingers threading through his golden fur as he settled beside her, curling against her like he always did.

a small, selfish part of her wanted to keep him like this forever.

but that wasn’t fair, was it?

she exhaled, staring at the ceiling. “you’re gonna find a home today,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “i just know it.”

she smiled, squeezing his paw gently.

“and i hope they love you as much as i do.”

meanwhile, outside the playroom, hyunjin, felix, aeri, rina, and hana were hanging around the front desk when the adoption center’s door swung open. the bell chimed softly as two familiar figures strolled in—jisung, looking completely at home, and seungmin, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, looking his usual mildly unimpressed self.

felix blinked. “oh?”

hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “what are you guys doing here?”

jisung grinned. “oh, you know—just a casual weekend visit to an animal shelter. felt like staring at some cats.”

rina narrowed her eyes. “is that true, or did you just get dragged here by seungmin?”

jisung groaned. “fine, yeah, i got dragged here.” he sighed dramatically before jabbing a thumb toward his best friend. “he’s actually the one adopting today.”

felix and hyunjin’s heads tilted slightly. “oh?”

aeri’s eyes lit up. “wait—seungmin, you’re getting a pet?”

seungmin shrugged. “yeah.”

rina smirked. “let me guess. a cat.”

jisung snorted. “oh, no. this dude? a cat?” he shook his head. “nah, he’s adopting a dog.”

felix hummed. “nice. what kind?”

seungmin’s gaze flickered toward hana, who had started flipping through adoption papers. “golden retriever,” he said simply. “his name’s star. anyway, where's the staff lady?”

the moment the words left his mouth, a wave of silence crashed over the group.

hyunjin and felix both froze.

aeri and rina's jaws slightly dropped.

hana finally returned from the back, greeting seungmin with a smile, “ah, you're here! guys, he's the one who's adopting st-”

even jisung, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, blinked in confusion.

“what?” he asked.

before anyone could answer, the door to the playroom creaked open.

and out stepped y/n, her arms wrapped around star—his golden fur glowing in the light, his tail wagging happily.

she took one step forward before her gaze landed on seungmin.

seungmin, who was already staring right back at her.

both of them squinted.

“…what are you doing here?” they asked at the same time.

jisung blinked, glancing between them. “okay, what’s happening right now—”

and then it clicked.

y/n’s eyes widened, flickering to her friends—felix, hyunjin, and rina watching the scene unfold with barely contained amusement.

“you—” she turned back to seungmin. “you’re adopting star?”

seungmin nodded, not entirely sure why she looked so shocked. “yeah?”

the room was silent for a beat.

then—

“oh my god,” y/n practically shrieked.

before seungmin could react, she launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders in a bone-crushing hug.

seungmin stiffened, eyes widening. “what the hell—”

but she was already bouncing, gripping his hoodie with sheer, uncontrollable joy.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god— seungmin.” she shook him, eyes shining. “you’re really adopting him??”

seungmin, still reeling, cleared his throat. “uh… yeah?”

“oh my god.”

y/n squealed, actually jumping up and down as she rapid-fired through a list of things—

“okay, okay, listen, he’s so good but sometimes he’s picky with food—he loves belly rubs but only in the morning—he doesn’t like loud noises but he loves music, i think he likes indie-rock?—oh and he’s so soft so you have to use this one dog shampoo, i’ll send you the link—oh my god, seungmin, if you forget to feed him i will end you—”

seungmin blinked, still trying to process what was happening.

meanwhile, felix and hyunjin were both howling with laughter.

“she’s so gone for that dog,” felix wheezed, wiping a tear.

“seungmin, she’s been obsessed with star,” hyunjin explained to him, still laughing. “she found him on the street months ago, brought him here herself, and has been visiting him every single day—”

“—which is why she’s been all moody lately,” rina added, grinning. “she was worried he wouldn’t find a home soon.”

seungmin slowly turned his gaze back to y/n, who was still yapping away, her hands gripping his sleeves like she was scared he’d disappear.

something inside him… softened.

she was so happy.

like—genuinely happy. practically glowing with excitement, her eyes bright, her entire body buzzing like an overcharged battery.

and it was because of him.

he cleared his throat. “okay, damn,” he muttered. “didn’t know i was winning a nobel prize for adopting a dog.”

y/n gasped. “it’s star, you ungrateful—”

jisung grinned, nudging seungmin’s shoulder. “looks like you did a good thing, min.”

seungmin exhaled, letting a small, amused smile slip.

yeah.

he had a feeling he really did.

hana leaned against the adoption center’s front desk, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold before her.

seungmin stood beside her, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, observing y/n bounce around like she had just won the lottery.

he was still processing it all.

she had really been this attached to this dog?

y/n was currently kneeling on the floor, hugging the golden retriever tightly, her fingers buried in his soft fur as she giggled, pressing kisses to the top of his head. star, for his part, was practically melting into her, his tail wagging violently, paws twitching in excitement.

hana let out a small chuckle. “she’s over the moon.”

seungmin huffed a small laugh, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “yeah, no kidding.”

hana turned to him, her expression amused but also… grateful. “seriously, though. thanks for this, seungmin.”

he glanced at her. “for what?”

she smiled knowingly, tilting her head toward y/n. “for that.”

seungmin followed her gaze.

y/n was beaming, her entire body radiating happiness as she continued to hug star, her face buried in his fur.

it was a rare kind of joy. the kind that made people forget about everything else. the kind that made time slow down for just a little while.

and for some reason…

he kind of liked that he was partially the reason behind it.

hana’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “she was really worried, you know?”

seungmin frowned slightly. “about what?”

hana gave him a look. “star.”

he blinked.

“she’s been coming here every day after class,” hana continued, her voice soft but full of meaning. “bringing treats, playing with him, making sure he wasn’t lonely. she didn’t talk about it much, but we all knew. she was so scared he’d never find a home.”

seungmin’s lips parted slightly.

“she’s been checking her phone constantly the past few days, waiting for an update. i swear, she probably manifested you into this place.” hana smirked. “and now look at her.”

seungmin glanced at y/n again.

she was now rubbing star’s belly, grinning ear to ear, still completely lost in her own little world.

his fingers curled slightly in his pockets.

…had she really been worrying this much?

and he hadn’t even noticed much?

hana’s voice broke through his thoughts again, softer this time. “so yeah. thanks, seungmin. i don’t think you realize just how much this means to her.”

he swallowed, clearing his throat. “it’s just a dog,” he muttered.

hana raised an eyebrow. “maybe to you.”

seungmin exhaled, shaking his head. “you’re making it sound like i saved a life or something.”

hana just smiled knowingly. “maybe you did.”

meanwhile, a few feet away, y/n was bouncing on her heels, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.

“seungmin, you’re the best,” she gushed, turning to him. “seriously. i don’t even know how to thank you.”

seungmin quirked an eyebrow. “you’ve already thanked me, like, ten times.”

she gasped. “not enough.”

she suddenly grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly as she stared at him, eyes sparkling. “thank you, seungmin. i swear i could kiss you right now.”

the guy choked. “what?”

felix, who had been drinking from a soda can, almost spit it out.

y/n didn’t even realize what she had just said, too caught up in her own excitement.

“i mean—not literally— i mean, i could—i mean—you get it,” she flailed, laughing nervously.

seungmin just stared.

jisung grinned. “dude, this is the first time i’ve ever seen you speechless.”

“i hate all of you,” seungmin muttered, pulling his hands away as he rubbed the back of his neck, ears ever so slightly red.

but then—

y/n clapped her hands together. “wait.”

seungmin braced himself. “what now?”

her eyes shone as she grabbed his arm. “okay, listen—so star loves sleeping on soft blankets, so please buy him those, and oh my god, he loves head pats—especially before sleeping—”

seungmin sighed. “here we go again.”

felix snickered. “good luck, bro.”

hyunjin clapped his shoulder. “you signed up for this.”

aeri beamed. “welcome to the rest of your life, seungmin.”

and all seungmin could do was exhale as y/n continued to speak, her happiness so loud, so vibrant, so unbelievably contagious—

that, for once, he didn’t actually mind.

“is your little girlfriend going to come visit us and the pup daily now?” jisung had murmured.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts

!! please let me know under this post, or this one, if i forgot you in the taglist, my inactivity made me lose track, i'm really sorry !!

Imagine a vampire sucked your blood and they didn't even pop a boner. not even half hard. fully flaccid the entire time they sucked your blood. I'd be so humiliated.

After Hours | 1

-> You keep coincidentally running into your supervisor after work hours. It's getting harder and harder not to flirt with him...especially since he can't seem to stop flirting back.

supervisor!Jisung x office worker!fem!reader

office!au, low-key secret dating, low-key forbidden love, fluff, slight angst, suggestive (let's not kid ourselves)

2.7K

warnings: creepy behavior makes Jisung feel uncomfortable but reader is there to save the day, cursing, mild dirty thoughts (they get worse just wait), really bad flirting not sorry, kdrama cringe bc I'm the author and I can

After Hours navigation

Feedback is greatly appreciated bc honestly I'm still writing the storyline and I need a little inspiration <3

-------------------------------------------------------

Coffee is, perhaps, the most important sustenance in existence. From an early age, you remember being introduced to your first love. The smell, the bitterness, the warmth. It's one of the only things that can make you happy when you have to get out in such disgusting weather.

The sky has been crying for hours. Cars drive through puddles, splashing the sidewalk while street drains continue to sing off-key. You manage to escape into the coffee shop just in time to miss a roar of thunder.

It's unexpectedly crowded today. You lean to the side to get a better look at how long the line is. With a sigh, you settle in for an uncomfortably long wait. You're not the only one who loves coffee on rainy days apparently.

It is unfortunate that this rainy day happens to be the first day of your new job. And since you are particularly excited for this job, you really don't want to be late. A good first impression is everything after all.

The chimes on the door ring out again, signaling someone new has entered the shop, earning your attention for a brief glance over your shoulder.

In he trots, the clumsiest man you've ever seen in your entire life. He trips over the threshold trying to beat the rain and almost falls flat on his face. No umbrella, a mumbled curse under his breath, and the hood of his rain jacket dripping onto the floor. He shakes his shoes off, hissing a shiver.

Although you can't see his face from this angle, he begins carefully scanning the coffee shop. If he's trying to be inconspicuous, it's not working very well. His every movement is like a cartoon character.

Where did this clown come from? Is it his first day walking or--

"Oh, damn," you slap a hand over your mouth because that was not meant to be out loud.

But the 'oh damn' still stand because what the actual fuck? The moment he removes his hood, everything changes.

There's an instant attraction you simply can't deny, even if you tried. If someone took your type on paper and manifested it into a single guy, it would be him.

You quickly revert your attention, realizing immediately that the line has in fact moved up without you in the time you spent gawking at a stranger.

His skin reminds you of a sweet caramel macchiato, but his eyes make you crave black dark roast coffee. His lips glisten from the rain, as if nature herself was so enamoured she had to pause to kiss them. His hair is perfectly messy but also styled to compliment his duality that makes you think babygirl, but also you would like him to push you against the wall, please. His shoulders relax as he makes his way to the line.

He stands behind you now, hands in his pockets, jacket open, and a pleasant hum on his lips. You don't recognize the song, but it sparks a curiosity within you. Does he hum a lot? When he's waiting in line for places or cleaning his apartment? It's a cute quirk, one you wouldn't mind tolerating if you were to ever be around it for an extended period of time.

You're such a hopeless romantic. Grow up.

The gentleman in front of you must be getting impatient. He huffs at the wait, turns around, and trudges off, knocking into you on his way because basic manners don't apply to him clearly.

"Oof--!" You stumble backwards. And if it hadn't been for the water on the floor, you might have survived. But you end up tragically slipping and falling into the arms of the customer right behind you.

Looking up, you're face to face with him now. His arms cling around your shoulders while your back has crashed into his chest. He looks surprised but not upset.

He smiles down at you, charmed and amused. "Are you okay?"

Despite being stunned by both the suddenness of the moment and his beauty, you pull yourself together and stand up on your own.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm so sorry, that was an accident."

"Don't worry about it. That guy bumped into you pretty hard. I would have fallen too."

"Well, thank you for catching me," you reply sweetly, brushing yourself off.

"Anytime. Wouldn't want you falling into the wrong arms."

Hold up...did this dude just drop a line on you? Wait a second, look closer.

A half smirk, puffed chest, lifted chin, soft eyes, bitten lip. Based on your extensive experience reading romance novels...he's flirting with you!?

This is no time to get flustered so easily. Oh, but something else is lit under your skin at the notion of his confident body language and adorable dimples -- the growing desire to flirt back and make him stutter.

"Thank you for your generosity and willingness..."

"Jisung."

"Jisung..." his name sounds cute in your voice, "I can be pretty clumsy."

"Me too."

"Yeah, I know," you stiffle a laugh, "I saw you come in earlier."

"Oh," he facepalms into his hand, a regretful groan coming from his chest. "You saw that?"

"Mhm," you nod cutely.

"Well, I guess the jig is up. I can deny it no longer." He takes a bow. "I am a klutz."

Even if it's not that funny, whatever he says makes you laugh. The way his eyes communicate, causing a rush of endorphins and giggles to bubble up inside you. You're completely smitten after only a few minutes.

There's just something about him.

The line moves up periodically, so you scoot your way forward every few minutes. Jisung takes the opportunity to inch his way closer until he's practically standing next to you in line. You don't mind. He gives off a warmth and spiciness you'd like to explore more of.

"Well, Klutz, I should warn you," you say, and Jisung tilts his head at the nickname, "most people don't find it easy to keep up with me."

"Good thing I like a challenge. Who knows..."

"___."

He pauses for a moment, seemingly to process your name, eyes glazing over as if enchanted. Wouldn't it be nice if he was that starstruck by simply your name? Whatever is going through his head, there's a spark behind his eyes, and the mention of your name only made it brighter.

"___," he smiles and continues, "I might just surprise you."

"You really think you can?"

"I caught you once, didn't I?"

"Yes, but one could argue that was just a coincidence."

His voice lowers, playful and knowing, as if daring you to deny it, "A pretty damn good coincidence if you ask me."

There's not many moments his gaze is elsewhere. He keeps his attention locked on you, your attitude, your comebacks, your eyes. Goddamn, your eyes. They make him hesitate, but...he doesn't want to miss the immense possibility hidden behind them.

There's just something about you.

Then something else rudely catches his attention as you approach the front of the line.

“Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Nothing." He plays off his sudden nervousness with a hand behind his head and a chuckle.

"You said oh shit for nothing?”

You two barely know each other, but somehow he knows you're not about to let this go. And it's easier to just fess up what's wrong instead of playing dumb.

“That barista," he gestures with a head nod. The one behind the register taking everyone's order. The one about to take your order.

“What about her?” You look back and forth, examining his drastic change in body language. “Does she make you uncomfortable?”

“She…wants me.”

“She wants you?”

"Hey, don't be jealous, ___," he chides with a sassy click of his tongue.

“I'm not jealous," you insist, rolling your eyes, "I'm just surprised.”

“You're surprised someone wants me?"

"I didn't mean--"

"Brutal."

“Come on, you know that's not what I meant!"

“I'm not making this easy on you, am I?”

“You're really not," you laugh as you give his shoulder a playful shove.

“Sorry," he apologizes while pretending your push did literally anything.

“Okay, but what's her deal?”

He shakes his head as if bamboozled by the whole thing, a disgusted taste in his mouth as his expression twists and frowns. “She just always flirts with me and it's weird. Last time she said something pretty inappropriate…”

“It must have really bothered you.”

The girl at the register lifts her hand. "I can take whoever's next, please."

“You know what, I don't really need to buy coffee," Jisung says quickly, holding a hand out to shake yours goodbye. "There's coffee at my office anyway. It was really nice to meet you, ___. I hope I catch you again sometime soon?"

“Hold on, you waited in line all this time, and now you're not going to get coffee because of her?”

He just shrugs.

“Uh, no," you say firmly, taking his hand and pulling him with you to the counter. "Come on, we're getting you a coffee.”

He has no choice but to give in, because you're rather cute dragging him along like this, like the two of you are familiar and close. But he's also undeniably nervous. Something feels very wrong about the way the barista eyes him up and down when she sees him.

But something feels very right when you hold his hand.

"Hi," you sing to the girl, "just one second please."

And then you turn to Jisung. Lifting his hand so the barista can clearly see, you interlock your fingers while scanning his features lovingly. "Don't forget, babe, you promised I could pay this time, so get whatever you like. I want to treat my prince right."

Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

You're pretending. This is not a drill. Jisung can't barely breathe when you look at him like that. Mischievous and domestically lighthearted with a hint of sexy expectation.

The most outrageous and yet charming thing you could have possibly done in this moment, and Jisung is struggling to move past the feeling of your nails nonchalantly scratching the back of his hand, like it's habit after holding his hand so many times before. Oh god, the goosebumps aren't going away.

You must be an actress. It's the only thing that makes any sense. Your beauty, grace, off the cuff banter, expressions, not to mention your ability to jump into the scene and play the perfect girlfriend in seconds. Jisung is convinced he's met the next nation's sweetheart, and all he can do is sweat bullets under his jacket and stare into your eyes as if he's stargazing.

He said he could keep up with you. Here's his chance to prove it.

He manages a small, breathless chuckle, "Okay okay. You know I can't refuse that face."

"I know," you proudly reply while hugging his arm, your chest pressed into his side and your lips spread into a wide, victorious smile. "Which is why I use it all the time. I like flustering you."

The whole coffee shop audibly heard the skip in his heartbeat just now.

In the corner of your eye, you can see the barista's smile slowly dying. She's watching you dote and hang all over Jisung with distain. But what bothers her the most is how absolutely spellbound he is by every movement you make, happily mesmerized by your very existence. The way he's looking at you...

"Jisung," she tries to get his attention, "you never mentioned a...who is she?"

"Huh?" He finally tears his eyes off of you for a mere moment, but then they're glued to you once again. "Oh, this is ___. My girlfriend." Saying that out loud felt way too right.

"Girlfriend?" You whine, pausing to shake your head. "I thought you said I'm your soulmate."

"Aw, baby, I'm sorry," he cups your cheek and matches your pout, "of course, you're my soulmate. It was a slip of the tongue. Forgive me?"

You nod happily and boop his nose. "Forgiven." The flush of pink that spreads to his ears definitely isn't pretend.

"Umm," the barista smacks her gum, "I thought you said you were single."

"I was," he sighs, doing his best to play along without getting too caught up in the role. "But then I met ___. And everything changed."

She eyes you up and down with a distasteful frown.

"You could do better."

There's a short silence while the two of you try to figure out where she found the audacity. The only sound is the barista's foot tapping on the floor, a most rhythmic and detestable thump.

While your heart dramatically sinks into your stomach.

"I'll take a caramel macchiato," you finally break the silence, "what do you want, babe?"

"You don't know his order?" The barista cuts in with a scoff. "How can you be his girlfriend and not know his coffee order? Looks like I know Jisung better than you do, huh?" She flips on the sweetie pie act again when she turns to him. "I'll make your usual--"

"I'll take a caramel macchiato as well. And an apology."

"Oh, umm sorry--"

"Not to me." His hand tightens around yours. "To ___."

"What?"

He doesn't repeat himself. The barista can't hardly believe he's serious. But he doesn't back down or make light of what he demanded. You look a little caught-in-headlights as well, unsure of what to do exactly. If anyone should be apologized to, it's Jisung. He's the one the barista has been borderline harassing every time he tries to get coffee here.

And yet Jisung is more concerned about the fact that she made one, minor comment about you not being good enough for him. And who knows, maybe you're not! You just met today and you're not even his real girlfriend!

She clenches her jaw, unwavering eye contact with Jisung as she grunts through her teeth, "Sorry."

Not exactly a satisfactory apology, but at least she won't be bothering Jisung anymore. And you're more than willing to stop by with him a few more times to make sure the story sells and this barista bitch stays in her lane.

You tap your card to pay, grab your coffees, and head for the door.

You gather your umbrella. Jisung pulls his hood over his head. Out the door you go. As soon as your out of ear shot, the two of you can't keep your laughs in any longer.

"Did you see her face when she apologized!? Oh my god, you never get caramel macchiatos, do you?"

"Absolutely never," he giggles behind his hand.

"Sorry if that was completely insane. But it's stupid you can't order coffee because some bitch barista can't keep her eyes up. I know you probably felt weird."

"No, it felt right." A pause of held breaths and fluttering eyelids, and then Jisung scrambles to add, "I mean, it worked, didn't it?"

"Like a charm," you respond, still flabbergasted at the moment.

"That soulmate shit was priceless by the way." Jisung narrows his eyes at you, a teasing suspicion on the tip of his tongue. "You're a real hopeless romantic, aren't you?"

"You're the one who cupped my face and called me baby. If anyone is the hopeless romantic, it's you."

He can't argue against that. Jisung is indeed a hopeless romantic at heart.

"Seriously, thank you so much for not letting me leave. I'll pay you back for this, promise. Anything you want."

"Anything?"

"Name it and it's yours."

"Your number?"

Where this confidence came from you're not entirely sure, but the way his smile lights up like fireworks at your request feels brand new. He quickly corrects his giddiness with a sip of coffee and a shrug.

"I guess that's a reasonable request."

With his number in your phone and the hour ticking by, you exchange glances through the rain. Shy eye contact and hesitating feet. Neither of you want to leave, although it's definitely time to get going, and it's painfully obvious.

"Which way are you headed?"

"Towards City Center."

"Oh, me too! We can walk together. If you'd like?"

"Yeah," you take his arm, coffee in one hand while he holds your umbrella in the other, "I'd like that. Klutz."

"Uh, is that nickname gonna be a thing?"

"I don't know yet. Why?"

"I liked babe better."

Yeah, well that makes two of you. But calling him babe feels a bit too natural for you to be so shamelessly and carelessly throwing it into the mix. But maybe you let it slip a few times while you're walking, you know, accidentally. And maybe you really enjoy seeing the corner of his lips turn up each time you do.

Banter and flirting fly free between the two of you, never once feeling awkward or scary. It's so rare something like this comes along in your life. An instant click like this needs to be protected, cherished. The more you listen to Jisung talk, the more you're convinced he's supposed to be someone special to you.

"This is me." He stops at the doors to a large glass building, the rain still coming down decently hard on your umbrella above your heads.

You look at the building with sad eyes, knowing that unless something crazy happens in the next ten seconds, this magical happenstance of meeting him will--

Hold on.

"Does that sign say Mindy&Mindy Consulting?"

Jisung slowly nods. "Yes. This is my work. Why?"

"I'm starting here today."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm the newest hire for the financial services department."

"Wait," Jisung blinks, "you're the new hire?"

"You know about me?"

"Of course, I do," he says. "I'm the department's Senior Consultant."

"You're the...so that means..."

Any and all confusion morphs as his eyebrows lift and his jaw drops in realization. It hits you both at the same time, a reality bomb just dropped on your little flirty fantasy.

"You're my boss."

::

AH taglist: @nightmarenyxx @cherriive @cepheus3 @strawberriesoup @kayleefriedchicken @hannamoon143 @0omillo0 @fly-you-dam-fools @urlocalmultigroupfan @inlovewithstraykids @felixleftchickennugget @notastraykid @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @lorialia @staybabblingbaby @comicalivy @www-hanverse @dearbisky @hannieslittlerockstar @feetoffthemalfoy @estella-novella @justastraymoa @hityoulikebahng

<3