Love This! Cant Wait For The Next Chapter

Love this! Can’t wait for the next chapter

જ⁀➴ dirty little secret lee anton smau

synopsis: living with your older brother had its perks, including easy access to his hot best friend

half smau half written, brothers best friend, kys/kms jokes, smut (MDNI!!), fluff, possible angst

TAGLIST: CLOSED!!

profiles

─── ♡ chapters:

01. congratudolences

02. long live anton 🕊️❤️

03. up… plotting

04. library shenanigans ♡

05. i dont bite ♡ (smut)

06. silly goofy mood

07. bye baby

Love!

the devil wears prada (sjy)

pairing: idol!jake x afab!reader

synopsis: As Sim Jaeyun stepped out of Prada’s after party, everyone ignored his goodbyes to the sea of paparazzis, because the buzz was about the lucky person who got to disheveled his hair. Jake’s honest answer for that was: the devil. And she for sure wears Prada.

my's note: i love how everyone saw Jake’s after-party photos and thought the same thing (i'm everyone). disheveled hair jake after-party prada that’s all. and i just realized i don’t know how to write a quickie lol enjoy <3 (please take into consideration this is a work of fiction, this doesn't represents the artist's image)

warnings: SMUT - so minors DO NOT interact!, protected sex, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, quickie but not really, public (?) bathroom sex, mirror sex, reader is quite dom with jake (i can't help myself), mention of alcohol. lmk if i missed something!

wc: 5.4k

NOT PROOFREAD.

taglist 💖: @yvnempire

The air was thick with the scent of luxury – champagne and expensive perfumes mingling with the buzz of the conversations in every corner of the room.

You had your back leaning against the marble counter of the bar, fingers nonchalantly tracing the edge of your vibrant drink and eyes drifting through the sea of people. Everyone was dressed to impress, each guest showcasing their creativity through Prada’s clothes, accessories and shoes.

Working in the fashion industry came with perks, and being invited to exclusive after-parties was undoubtedly the best one. So you weren’t a stranger to this world. The glamourist atmosphere, the music playing as a soft background, the dim lights casting a perfect blend of elegance and casualness over the place.

It made your body shiver with joy, fulfillment at its most filling your chest, as the surroundings seemed to confirm what you already knew: you were in the right place – your place.

Earlier, at the main event, you watched the showcase with sparkling eyes, recording specific moments to use later as inspiration for your own creativity process. You loved how free you could be with your ideas while doing your work, not to mention the possibility of adding tons of yourself to it. Some might call it an egoistic behavior, as if your job existed solely for your own satisfaction. But the creation was yours, so why shouldn’t the outcome be about you too?

You took another sip of your drink, your sharp gaze scanning the room.

As soon as you stepped at the after-party, many other designers and some artists approached to compliment both your visual and your work, and you confidently talked with them. Yet, coming not from one, but from a few of them, there was an underlying tone; their praises were not solely aimed at your outfit or your impeccable creations, but rather an attempt to carve a path to your heart – or, perhaps, under your dress.

You never denied you had a good appearance. Together with your sense of style and your fearless demeanor, you enchanted anyone who crossed your way. The badass woman aura you exhaled was almost palpable and extremely hot for those who watched – with heart and lustful eyes – as you passed by.

Despite the usual lingering intense gazes on you, far from feeling intimidated or even shy by them, there was one pair of eyes burning deeper, piquing your curiosity as you kept on searching for its owner. 

It was like you every motion was being captured by them, following you across the room, and no matter how many conversations you effortlessly maneuvered through, all you could feel was the constant, intense weight of the said gaze.

After one more drink and some uninterested noddings at the guy who took place near you at the bar, you finally found him.

Sitting on the middle sofas of the main room, drink in hand, together with his group, devil eyes staring at you shamelessly, biting his lip and looking extremely hot as doing so.

You quirked an eyebrow in his direction, not even bothering to follow the bla-bla-bla coming from the random guy anymore, his words sounding like nothing to you at that point.

Especially because the attractive man looking at you didn’t even flinch after getting caught, as if it was the purpose from the beginning. If anything, he deepened eye contact in a daring, cocky manner, almost challenging you to react over the tension that started to hang in the air between you two.

Unlucky to him, you weren’t the type to follow anyone’s lead but yours, so you simply let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at your lips as you deliberately took another sip of your drink without breaking the new unspoken game – the one you were sure you would win.

You observed closely how he drifted his gaze away from yours just to blatantly check you out, stopping on your bare thighs for a moment before doing the same on your exposed chest, the neckline of your dress giving the perfect bait for men like him.

He shifted on his seat, gulping and then assaulting his lower lip with his teeth once more, as if trying to contain himself from running all the way to you, just to undress you properly instead of keep on doing that with his glare. 

You would be lying if you said that his demeanor wasn’t helping to ignite the fire from your core to your entire body, skin heating with a hint of desire. Even so, you waited patiently.

The random designer talking to you was long gone already, though you barely noticed, unnecessarily engrossed in your little game.

With a subtle, innocent tilt of your chin, you motioned your head slowly as a signal, beckoning him to come closer, without breaking eye contact. The simple gesture caught him off guard; his confident atmosphere stumbling to keep itself up, eyes growing wide in surprise, and you found it irresistibly adorable.

The corner of your lips curled when he stood up after whispering something to one of his friends, who quickly glanced at you and then showed a small smile. You finished your drink as he made his way over, his steps relaxed, but his eyes avoiding yours. You almost chuckled at the endearing scene.

As he approached, you noticed how young he seemed to be, perhaps even younger than you. Not to mention his incredible inebriating fragrance and self beauty – the plump pink lips and the high bridge nose perfectly sculpted doing things to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, eyes straightaway dropping to your exposed neckline, lingering on the curve of your chest.

You leaned in just slightly, making sure he got a better view, batting your lashes with a sly smile. “Hey.”

Without asking for your preference, he ordered two drinks. You decided to let it slide for now – being surprised could be fun every now and then, and maybe accepting his drinks could be one of the keys to get something more.

“You’ve been turning heads all night.” He finally said after a while, the hot, aussie accent didn’t go unnoticed by you. Your body heat increased as an immediate response. 

As you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile play on your lips, you smoothly replied with faux innocence. “Have I?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, thanking the bartender for the drink as he handed you one, oblivious of the rhetorical question. Your smile widened. “Can I know your name?”

“Y/N,” you politically extended your hand, eyes sharp on his face. His grip was hesitant, and the moment your fingers touched, an unexpected jolt of electricity shot through your body. You suppressed a slight shiver.

“Jake,” he introduced himself, caring little to nothing about showing how affected he got just by feeling your soft palm on his.

His breath hitched, getting caught on his throat as his eyes darkened. He couldn’t help but think about how your touch would feel elsewhere on his body.

The excitement flooded your chest instantly, you had to hold back yourself because you realized that if you wanted – and you so did – those perfect lips would be attached to yours in no time, and if you were lucky enough, they would be exploring other parts of your body as well.

“Nice meeting you, Jake.” You murmured, pronouncing his name with your most velvety voice, slowly pulling your hand away to grab your drink from the counter, sipping it.

Jake tracked your deliberate movements, wetting his slightly parted lips when he saw your red lipstick staining on the glass edge, utterly in disbelief he simply discovered someone who definitely came out from his wettest dreams, who would turn the smallest, innocent gesture into something sensual.

Even the simple act of blinking in his direction seemed meticulously calculated to make it hard to resist your advances, fueling the growing tightness inside his pants.

Not to mention how sexy his name rolled out of your beautifully tinted lips. 

Jake leaned his arms on the marble counter, turning his head to keep on watching you, as if your presence were an alluring, tempting show, happening right in front of his eyes just to damage his weak heart.

“I couldn’t stop looking at you.” He blurted out shamelessly, shattering the ‘cool’ facade he was trying to maintain under your intense gaze.

There was something about how sincere, seductive, and yet, desperate he sounded, as if his greatest longing in life was to have you right away. You were enjoying that guy so much so far. 

“I’ve noticed,” you chuckled with your eyes brimming with flirtation, shifting between his plush, kissable lips and his desire-filled orbs. “And are you planning to keep just looking?”

Jake blinked, momentarily taken aback with your quick and direct response. Although you had an obvious confident aura radiating through your pores, he definitely didn't expect you to be so straight to the point, thinking he would have to ease things a bit more.

And honestly? He found your vibe more exciting than he would like to admit. 

“I guess that depends on what you want,” he answered, voice dropping a tone, trying to match the energy you exuded.

Ignoring the chills running through your spine by his low murmur, you softly chuckled and leaned back against the bar, gaze still locked with his.

“Oh, Jake,” you teasingly cooed, grinning, with your voice dripping with amusement, “I always get what I want.”

It was visibly apparent how your words ignited something on his body, perking up in anticipation while his eyes deepened and his jaw clenched; if you looked close enough, you would see the slight bulge in his crotch area. 

Jake straightened his posture, finishing his drink in one go without breaking eye contact, hooded eyelids offering you the most magnetic sight you saw that night until that moment.

Then he leaned in closer, the tension between you two increasing with every heartbeat. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he whispered in your ear, a cocky smirk creeping onto his face.

As he walked towards the restroom area, his confident stride only added to the thrill. Men would be promising you the best night of your life just to leave you hanging and dealing with your situation alone. However, Jake seemed to exude an air of boldness blended perfectly with devotion, making a rush of anticipation bubbling in your core.

You let out a small laugh, not even caring about finishing your drink. The thrilling game had just started and you were so ready to play.

Jake’s lips tasted like heaven. And fancy liquor.

His hands were everywhere, but mainly on your ass and neck, his desperation evident by the way he pressed your back into the cold wall, sucking your lips as if his life depended on it.  

After following his traces, feigning indifference as best as you could to the open public, it took mere seconds before you felt his strong grasp on your hips guiding you into the bathroom – fortunately, they had private, separated spaces, making it easier for the two of you to steal as much privacy as the party allowed.

You could hear the muffled hum of the songs playing as a background, merging with the lewd sounds from the messy, hungry kiss you both shared and the soft groans rumbling from Jake’s throat as well.

Just minutes ago your plans were completely different; just some kisses and calling it a night, definitely not imagining things going further than that. However, the way Jake’s mouth skilfully moved against yours made you wonder how good it would feel in other places of your body, like in between your legs, and you just had to give it a chance.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, barely breaking the contact, lips already swollen and reddened due to your lipstick and your not so gentle bites. 

You hummed in response, unable to form proper words about how amazing of a job he was doing just by kissing you. 

Your fingers tangled in his silky brown hair, tugging without restraint because you quickly realized how much Jake liked it. He moaned, lips parting against yours with the intensity of the pull, your hazed gaze catching a quick glimpse of his eyes rolling back – an extremely devilish view.

Although stumbling a bit, Jake managed to easily place you at the edge of the sink’s counter by lifting you firmly gripping your thighs, the feeling alone making you wince as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support.

The room seemed to shrink as your breaths quickened, the boiling sensation bubbling in your stomach as you anticipated for more of his intense, heated, passionate touches. 

Jake, just as breathless, decided to assault the flesh of your neck and exposed collarbone, getting drunk on your scent and softness as he did so, loving how you tilted your head just enough to give him some more access to explore.

A soft moan escaped your lips and your fingers tightened on his hair when he nibbled your sensitive spot, close to your earlobe, sending jolts of electricity directly to your pussy.

You could feel a smirk creeping into his mouth, right before he questioned teasingly, slowly sucking the area. “Do you like that?”

You fought to keep your composure, a soft smile threatening to break through as the heat blossomed in your core. His breath tickled your skin, deliberately waiting for your answer while igniting every inch of you by keeping on playing on that spot. 

The first reaction you gave was another moan together with your nails digging on his shoulders and scratching his scalp. Then you admitted, still struggling to hold yourself back. “Fuck, yes. I do.” 

Jake cooed at you, gently pulling away from the curve of your neck to study your dazed expression; lips agape releasing heavy breaths, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink and eyes half-lidded, fluttering slowly, still dripping in the same confidence you once carried, as if even under his lead you were the one commanding.

“You look hot and messy, and I haven’t even started yet.” Jake teased, a playful smile gracing his lips as he pressed them against yours again.

“Do you always talk that much?” You murmured, not quite intending to judge his demeanor, but a bit annoyed and amused by how he appeared to need to hear you frequently while savoring you. 

“Only when I'm nervous.” Jake answered honestly with an awkward chuckle, helping you to remove his jacket, which landed straight on the ground and he couldn’t care less.  

“Oh, do I make you nervous Jakey?” You smirked, thirsting over his now exposed veiny arms. 

Watching Jake’s cheeks being painted with a faint blush while he swallowed hard under your sharp gaze, clearly getting flustered, brought back the control you thought was lost. 

“Maybe a little,” Jake tried to play it cool, but his voice came out smaller than he expected, and he tried to avoid facing you by leaning to kiss you again.

A glint of mischief sparkled in your eyes when you noticed he was losing his composure. You kindly held his head still, forcing him to keep his gaze on you. “Aw, come on, Jakey. Don’t shy away now,” you said, a smooth voice layered with playfulness and a sultry, almost mocking undertone. “You haven’t even started yet, isn’t that right?” 

Jake nearly moaned when he heard your words, not because of them itself but by how hot you sounded. His cock throbbed painfully inside his pants, his underwear probably stained with his leaking precum at that point. 

Jake got fooled at some moment by thinking he was the one in charge, even provoking you while exploring your desires initially, but the reality was that he had been following your lead like a lost puppy all along. 

There was something about how confident and dominant you seemed to be since the beginning, not faltering a single moment to his boldness, and somehow you carried that still, assuming the control gracefully, as if it was your job. And Jake was very grateful for you doing so.

His eyes softened and his breath hitched. 

“Tell me, what do you want from me?” The question slipped from his plush, beautiful lips, laced with desire and a touch of vulnerability without much cohesive thinking, clouded mind craving to satisfy you, because that meant his own fulfillment. “I wanna give you everything.”

Devoting to a devilish goddess like you was a tempting surrender he was eager to embrace.

You felt a pulse straight in your clit and your cheeks heating, the weight of his desperate words triggering your following behavior.

Jake saw the way your face brightened up, realizing he had opened the hell’s gate and he was eager to enter – if you were the personification of the devil, he was more than willing to drown into your lustful, tempting sea of sins. 

“What do I want from you?” You echoed, an amused grin curling the corner of your lips as your eyes traced Jake’s attractive features, pausing on his perfectly sculpted high-bridged nose, accompanied just below by his tasteful lips. You smiled, caressing it with your thumb. “I want them. Eat me out.” 

Jake’s breath got caught on his throat and his eyes grew in a slight surprise, not only due to your bold, straightforward request, but mainly because the idea of having your pussy in full display for him to play sounded too dreamy.

“Are you sure?” He asked in a low, contained voice, struggling to keep down his excitement, biting his lower lip, aiming to confirm he wasn’t going insane.

“I know what I want, Jake.” You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow. “And you?”

Jake’s eyes immediately dropped to your chest and then your bare thighs. The dress had ridden up due to the position so he was able to see a hint of your laced, black panties. He wet his lips, mouth watering while he lowered enough to bend comfortably and be eye level with your cunt.

You watched, fascinated by how in trance he seemed to be, as though your final word was the cue for him to dive into you completely. 

Your stomach fluttered in anticipation as you propped yourself up to help Jake slide your panties down your legs, gentle hands caressing your smooth skin as he did so. Then he grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, shooting you a quick glance and smile before burying his face between your legs, the smell of your pussy intoxicating his senses. 

He first gave it a small, slow kitty-lick, testing the waters, then frowned in pleasure, groaning with your delicious taste dissolving on his tongue.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips and you quickly pursed them to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, fighting the urge of allowing yourself to let go so easily. One of your hands searched for support on the edge of the counter and the other held on tight to Jake’s hair.

Jake gave a long, savoring lick, finishing with a delectable, lewd sucking noise in your clit, as if he was starting to make out with your pussy. Your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut, your limbs feeling like jelly as a wave of weakness coursed through you.

His hot muscle started to work faster, steadier and precise in between your folds, your entrance and your sensitive bundle of nerves, giving each of them the right amount of attention.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you moaned shakily, unable to keep it low. “You’re so fucking good at this,” you threw your head back, unconsciously waving your body towards his face, practically griding on it.

Jake moaned with your praise, skilfully shaking his head whenever he flickered his tongue in your hole, just to rub your clit with his nose, before moving back to suck on it, entirely immersed on his duty to please you.

He was on cloud nine. 

Your taste flooding his senses, your body reacting to his stimulus, heating up and shivering under his precise touch, your pretty moans filling up the space straight into his ears, like angels singing – though he was sure you were a devil in disguise. 

Every noise coming from your throat was sending a rush of electricity directly into his dick, not to mention how your cunt became wetter and wetter with the lewd mixture of his own saliva and your arousal. Jake could die that moment and would be happy with it.

Reading the way your breathing grew heavy and feeling how you clenched around the tip of his tongue, Jake deduced you were near to the edge.

“I’m close–” You whispered, confirming his theory.

The knot on your stomach tightened when Jake began to focus mainly on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, eager for your release – perhaps more than you. “I’m really close, Jak–”

Your arms nearly failed to keep yourself up as your orgasm hit, a long moan falling from your mouth interrupting your warning, your spine arching with the euphoria wave and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your juices coated Jake’s tongue, who took all of it proudly; you hissed feeling his mouth still working on your sensitive cunt, and you pulled him away by his hair.

Without a word Jake brought his lips to yours, making you taste yourself still hazy minded after your strucking climax. You groaned, slowly starting to move your hips to get down from the counter, Jake unconsciously helping you through it by supporting your weight until your heels landed on the floor. 

You lightly pushed Jake’s chest to move him away, meeting his dazed expression, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his veins. You grabbed the hem of his black shirt, quietly asking for him to remove it. And he did without hesitation.

"Fuck me," you demanded, taking a glimpse of his beautiful toned abs, a bit out of breath and even needier now. "Fuck me and watch you doing it through this mirror."

Jake flashed a quick grin, still recovering from the smothering and delightful feeling of being in between your legs, before fumbling with his belt, hands frantic undoing the button of his pants to slide them down.

You took your sweet time to thirst over the outline of his covered, extremely hard length, interrupting his actions by gripping his wrist, savoring the moment as you licked your lips, mouth watering.

“It’s a shame we cannot take much longer,” you started, fauxing innocence as you stepped closer just enough to touch him over his white boxers. A small, provocative chuckle coming from your throat before you murmured. “Really wanted to feel you in my mouth.” And then you kissed the corner of his parted lips.

Jake whimpered when you softly squeezed his neglected dick, leaning closer to you instinctively, holding onto the edge of the counter behind you while resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder. His breath was heavy against your skin, where he pressed his lips a few times until reaching your earlobe, nibbling. 

Your sneaky hands entered the hem of his clothing piece to jerk him off; your teasing, deliberate moves were driving him insane. The way your warm palm rubbed his sensitive tip made his groans increase just as much as his pulse, and he moaned a bit louder when you finally freed his aching dick out of his boxers by pushing them down, allowing your hand to pump his shaft easier. 

With closed eyes, you enjoyed the waves of pleasure going down, directly to your cunt, making you wet again by hearing Jake’s sultry noises and hot breath brushing against your ear.

Your lips grazed along his jawline at the same time you threatened your fingers through his slightly dampened hair, disheveling it even more before pulling it away from the curve of your neck, so you could capture his mouth in a slow, passionate kiss.

"Condom?" You asked under breath after parting away from his mouth, slowing your hand on his dick. You noticed his body tensing right after your question, eyes growing wide in panic, which piqued your curiosity.

There’s no way he…

"Shit, I didn't bring–"

You let out a soft scoff, part laughter, part disbelief. Without missing a beat, your hands resumed their movement, this time teasing him by randomly stopping, repeating the motion a few times. His moans grew louder, hips bucking desperately against your hand as if seeking more, his mouth agape and eyes glistening with despair.

"What a naughty boy," you cooed, slowly shaking your head in a false disappointment. "Were you planning on going raw with me, Jakey?" You questioned, voice low, layered with playfulness. 

Jake winced, desperation growing inside his chest, fearing you to leave him now, when he needed you the most.

"N-No..." He shook his head, “I wasn’t– I forgot, I’m sorr–” 

"Unluckily we just met.” You interrupted. “I don't know you well enough to let you do that. Right?" 

Jake nodded, though he wasn't sure if he was truly following your words. You were loving to see him falling apart so easily, almost begging for you not to leave him through his messy moans. 

His breath hitched and he almost grabbed your hand in place when you let go from his hard, red and needy cock. "P–please…" He finally pleaded, holding your waist as his eyes searched for yours in complete despair.

You quirked an eyebrow, smirking at his endearing demeanor. "Aw, you really wanna fuck me, don't you?" You caressed his cheek with your clean hand, smiling.

“I really do,” Jake whispered, moving his head just enough to kiss your palm. “Please, let me–”

“Not without protection, Jakey,” you said firmly, although with a hint of teasing, because you had a way out of that situation without harming your health.

And the said solution was inside your purse, which got tossed on the ground at some point of your initial make out session with Jake. 

Jake's puppy sad eyes followed your every motion when you moved his hands off of your waist, thinking he had messed up completely. But then he saw you grabbing your bag and taking a condom off of it, showing to him with a playful grin.

"And lucky to us, I'm always prepared, Jakey.”

You slowly approached him again, his gaze catching the alluring sight of you gently opening the packaging using your teeth, while your eyes confidently remained locked onto his, loving to see his bewildered expression.

Without a word, you slid the condom on his length, stroking it a few times before turning your back to him, bending over the counter and lifting your dress, revealing the beautiful view of your bare ass.

Jake’s firm hands instinctively gripped your hips and he positioned himself behind you while biting his lip in anticipation, the thrilling excitement boiling stronger in his cock.

He searched for your eyes in the mirror in front of you two, and of course you were already looking at him through your hungry orbs, savoring the image of Jake’s craving your body.

"Now fuck me as desperate as you seem to be."

Your words hung in the air for seconds before Jake’s mind snapped away from your tempting view in the mirror; your boobs nearly jumping out of your neckline, lips swollen but carrying the same confidence, and your eyes. Your fucking eyes. Your devilish eyes. 

“Your desire is my pleasure, Y/N.” It was all Jake managed to say with his low, husky voice, before pushing deep into you.

Your mouth fell open with the breathtaking sensation of being filled up, and Jake began to slowly pump into you, giving you a little time to adjust. Or you thought so.

You still had no idea that he was already stepping near the edge of his own release, that being the reason for his deliberate hip rolls – there was no way in hell he was going to let the opportunity of enjoying your delicious squeezes around his dick slip away that easily.

“F–fuck,” his voice cracked as he whispered. “You f–feel amazing...”

You looked at Jake in the mirror after hearing how weakly his words came out, as if he were already lost in a haze of his own pleasure. And he truly was. A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight of his head tilted back, eyes closed, and mouth slightly parted, a faint smile gracing his lips.

When a specific deep thrust hit your g-spot, you almost cried out and Jake quickly paid attention to it. Then he bent you even more on the marble counter with one hand forcing your back, to ease his access to your sensitive area and help with his movements, speeding his hips the right amount to make you roll your eyes.

“T–that’s it...” You moaned. “Fucking me so good.” You praised and Jake groaned, his hands immediately sliding to cup one of your covered breasts, massaging it while keeping his pace, eyes locked at the insanely delightful view in the mirror.

A sequence of moans slipped out of your throat as Jake started fucking you hard and fast, desperately even. How your walls clenched tight around his cock was driving him insane, and he seeked for more of that addicting feeling.

The sound of the distant music did nothing to cover the slams sounds echoing the bathroom at that point, and honestly, neither of you cared anymore, far gone in your own pleasure.

At some point your own body started to encounter his pushes into you, but it wasn’t enough. So you straightened your posture a bit, tugging Jake’s hair while looking at his eyes in the mirror – his fucked up expression sending shivers down your spine. 

“Faster, Jake.” You urged, a bossy tone dripping out of your mouth like a sweet sugar that Jake grew obsessed with. And he instantly obeyed.

Your free hand cupped Jake’s on your boob and your eyes fluttered close while you tilted your head back, lost in the amazing feeling of Jake pounding into your g-spot, a mess of moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. 

Since he had his eyes open, Jake watched your body quivering with his thrusts, the fucking Prada logo on your dress shining with the dim light of the bathroom, your makeup slightly smeared due to the mess. It was completely out of this world how good you looked, and the way you were squeezing his dick together with the view, sent him even closer to the edge. 

“I’m gonna cum–” He said in one go, as an eager statement, not a warning, desperate to feel his release. 

Your breath started to quicken with his erratic pace, and you fluttered your eyes open again, catching the sight of Jake’s concentrated frown and mouth agape, letting out the prettiest moans you ever heard.

You said nothing, you just tightly gripped the hand on your chest and leaded it to your clit, inciting him to rub it for you. Jake got your message, and with all the overwhelming stimulus, your second orgasm hit, mouth falling open gasping for air as you supported yourself on the marble counter, your head falling forward while you kept on feeling Jake’s deep thrusts.

You clenched involuntarily around his dick, and that was enough for him to achieve his climax as well, resting his head on your shoulder, holding you close still.

Jake moved back with a hiss, completely dizzy and fulfilled. He removed the condom and tossed it onto the trashcan before dressing himself back again, helping you to recompose since your legs were shaky.

“Thank you,” you said in a hoarse voice when he offered you your purse and your panties, to which you decided not to wear again because, well, it was on the floor.

So you cheekily pushed into Jake’s pocket without saying a word, and he didn’t even noticed, too focused on looking out for you by supporting you to keep steady. 

You turned to the mirror, fixing your messy hair and makeup as best as you could. 

“How do we get out of this bathroom now?” Jake asked after the silence, watching you re-apply your red lipstick. 

You just smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek to purposely leave a mark there. “Like this.” And you simply opened the door, not even caring about the instant stares you received as you did so, Jake following your lead right behind, a small shy smile adorning his lips. 

With a last goodbye look, you parted ways, your confidence evident in your stride, and Jake fumbling to smooth down his disheveled locks, now with the acknowledgment that the devil definitely wears Prada.

so cute!

coherent waves | lee anton ˚₊‧⁺˖

people say the first touch of fate feels like a circuit being completed. so why does lee anton's soulmate seem to hate him?

TAGS: soulmate!au, college!au, gn!reader, cute and awkward engineering majors!anton and reader, confessions in the rain, kiss!

A/N: this boy bias wrecked me SO hard i paused writing a sungchan fic for this haha self-indulgent SCREAMiing as always (to clarify, his mark is on his left, our right)

WORDS: ~1700

Everyone knows Lee Anton's face.

No matter what, everyone's got their campus crushes. The people they'd linger around a corner for in hope of seeing, those with soulmarks you wish would line up just perfectly with your own. Somewhere out there, someone's walking around with your first touch of fate around with them. It's for that reason everyone knows Anton as the campus crush.

It's impossible to miss the six feet of cuteness, the shoulders broad enough to span the Californian coast and the tan handprint branded across his left cheek. Lee Anton, the sweetest guy on campus whose soulmate was destined to slap him in the face once they met. Nothing in it spelt destiny for you, but it was definitely curiosity at first sight.

"Hey, are we okay? Just at group study…” And your brain sputters like a misfiring car. He’s right behind you, isn’t he?

You want to pretend you didn’t hear him over the bucketing rain – maybe even your thunderous heart. Without an umbrella, you’re screwed if you run down the library steps into the dark and you’d look insane to push past him back into the library. Damn.

Not once did you dare speak to him during the entire group study. Though the feeling of his curious eyes lingering on you alone lit you up like a fuse about to blow. No wonder he's asking you if you're okay. The entire time you acted like some tween with a stupid crush. Which you’re not. Clearly and obviously not. First year electrical engineering has enough problems to give you a migraine.

Something about being around him sets your brain off like a capacitor discharging. Everything firing off at once, without a thought of where to go.  

"No? Yes! Yes. Fuck – sorry. We’re fine." Is what you come up with.

And some boy can apparently render you stupid within two feet of him. Someone needs to remind you how you’re a candidate for the dean’s list again.

Your stilted answer and the ensuing silence cause the corner of Anton's lip to quirk into a grimace. "Ah – okay. Sorry, I'll see you Friday.” When he takes out his umbrella it nearly whacks you in the face before he starts to run down the steps, leaving not a glance behind him.

Ah, shit.

Stunned, you’re left with a) no umbrella and b) a burning sense of mortification about how badly that went. Before you know it, your feet are running you down the path he took. One problem at a time… c’mon fix this. "Hey! Hey wait up, please! Anton!"

Running in the pouring rain was something you never planned on doing tonight or any day of the week but for fixing whatever you’ve got with Anton – it seems worth it.

Whatever they used to say about stem majors being chronically unfit bookworms definitely applies to you, as your heart thuds in your skull and lungs start to give out. Somehow after months of trailing behind his broad back, you underestimated how quickly he can escape you. 

Finally, like a lighthouse in the night, his blue umbrella is radiant under the light of the bus stop. “Anton!”

Three months of dodging each other’s eyes and scampering out empty classrooms early, Anton’s eyes are at the edges of almost all your memories. You know his wide eyed look anywhere. But with as much grace of a new-born giraffe, you sidle next to him under his umbrella, unaware of the blush warming Anton’s face.

Thankfully there’s no one else about apart from him to watch you keel over for a solid minute to gather your breath. Internally you think you’re as bright red as the LEDs you use in the labs. That, and so soaked you’re sure you're waking up with a cold tomorrow. Though, it could be worse. It could be whatever happened earlier.

Caught again in his orbit, you feel it again. The charge crackling under your skin that makes you want to claw at it.

It’s a moment before anyone speaks, still too busy process what exactly is going on. Eventually you gain your bearings and look into his shifty eyes with resolution.

“Hey look – I’m super sorry about everything,” you blurt. “The entire thing with the study group and completely dodging you in class. I – well, it’s not on purpose but I don’t know why but it’s like I get caught in some interference feed within like a meter of you and I just can’t think straight. Everything just sort of fires off in an incoherent mess. I’m trying, I really do but for once, I just can’t explain it.” It pours out in what feels like one breath. You feel like you’re teetering on the spot, on the cusp of embarrassment or sheer confidence. At this point, it might just be both. “… Sorry if I made you uncomfortable about anything but you’re top of our year, so damn cool and collected all the time – I feel like my wires get mixed up.” 

There’s an ache in your neck from looking up to him and watching his reaction. Calm and collected as always. It must be the longest you’ve ever got to look him in the eyes properly. Until,

“Me too.”

Huh?

Anton pauses for a moment, worrying the inside of his cheek before admitting, “I… I really wished we could talk more but you’re always busy and I feel awkward butting in. You’re really intimidating in the group studies, you know? You know everything and get along with everyone so easily. I psyche myself out.”

As he talks, your cheeks warm in endearment and you shuffle closer while he’s distracted. The familiar scent of cherries that would haunt you around campus suddenly right under your nose.

“I mean, I thought you’d just be another person put off by this-“ he waves a self-conscious hand over his soulmark “-and being avoidant because of that. Though I guess I figured you didn’t care because you never lingered on it like… like everyone else.”

It comes to you all in pieces. Anton always ducking his head away, never looking anyone straight on, always pursing his lips and turning away whenever someone brought up soulmarks. Those rumours haunt him.

However, standing here you’ve never been more confident. You know your what your hand looks like.

Does he?

“I think it has a good story.” The look of disbelief he gives you is priceless but you push on. “I mean, mine’s just on my palm just like seventy percent of the population so it can be boring.” Under the light, you raise your hand to him, showing the contrasting darker skin on your right palm and the small shake of your fingers. Anton locks onto your mark with a laser focus that you’ve never seen before. “And besides… I think you know what your soulmark actually is.”

One step closer: you’re just a hairsbreadth away. So close you can feel is body heat through his hoodie and see your breath leaving goosebumps on the expanse of his exposed neck. In the reflection of his blown pupils you can almost see yourself.

He swallows, eyes never leaving your palm. "You know what everyone says about it." Anton chews at his lip, bitten raw from worry. It’s stupidly endearing whether he knows it or not. Instead of dropping it, you raise your hand, leaving it to rest on his shoulder in comfort. “That the only reason I get slapped is because I’m secretly an asshole?”

"You don't know that it’s a slap for sure.”

"Then what else could it be then.”

"Really, Anton?" you hum. He’s so tense under your hand you feel like he could shatter from where you touch him. His eyes dazed and lingering where your hand used to be "We’re both smarter than this.”

Under the streetlight, what he has is clear as day to you while you trace his mark with your eyes. The thumbprint that curls across his left cheekbone, to the fingertips that edge from his hairline to his jaw and even the light shadow that touches the corner of his lip – as if he’s pressing a kiss to the heel of their palm. "Whoever it is, they're holding you."

“…Whoever it is… ?” he murmurs.

Anton’s unwavering gaze finally bores into you. Two interstellar blackholes swallowing you up and bearing down. An infinite number of thoughts or none at all. All behind those eyes, calculating and calibrating. You wonder where he is in that brilliant mind of his.

“Do it.”

You’re so careful.

You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if you hurt him. Maybe this doesn’t work out? What if you’re just another person in the crowd watching and waiting for someone else. You knew from the moment you started high school, life was a bunch of problems that you had to solve. The sheer existence of uncertainty guarantees nothing in any aspect of your life. What is guaranteed already, what are the variables, what are you working with. Whatever this is – it’ll be another problem but not one you get to calculate – it's one you need to guess.

His skin is too warm, and your hand is too cold. Nothing sparks but something is complete in your heart.

It fades. The marks – yours, his, all of it. It recedes back as if it never existed.

"I told you so."   

The clatter of the umbrella is your only warning before his hands cup your face and he kisses you. He kisses you in earnest, softer than you'd expect and warm enough to make your knees weak. With a deceptive strength, Anton presses you back against a railing, and your arms loop around his neck, hands burying in his hair. Hidden muscles you used to wonder about, tense where you touch him.

Eyes closed to the rain, foreheads knocked together and not a care in the world. You’re pulled into him like air. Both of you are trembling with relief. Like coherent waves, you come together in sync and everything you feel is amplified between you two. It’s then you know exactly what was racing in his mind.

Smiling into your neck, Anton sighs. "I'm yours." His voice lower and a little bit breathier. It makes your heart skip a beat, and your mouth turns up at the corners.

All across your veins it’s like a current is pushing through your skin. Anton and you, a circuit complete.

blehh i'm rusty but i'm starting uni as a mechEng student soonish so wish me luck 🫡 a reblog or a like always helps to encourage more thank you! ⭒ masterlist

I loved this series! Just something about historical/period pieces that always gets me. This was such a nice way to tie everything off, we got to see all the relationships flourish a little more in the end

TWTHH Bonus: The Little Lotus Blooms

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: This takes place after all of the members' spinoffs. It's probably best for you to finish everything before reading this, but it can also be read if you do not mind spoilers and have no intention of reading the spinoffs.

Fic Masterlist | Spinoff Masterlist

"Still stuck on the baby's name, I see," came the familiar voice that never failed to both irritate and amuse your husband. Seonghwa smirked, his hand still gently rubbing your tummy. "And what does that have anything to do with you?"

The dressmaker scoffed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense as he approached. "It has everything to do with me, especially since I'm clearly going to be the godfather of this little one."

You smiled, but before you could respond, the general spoke first. "In your dreams, Kim Hongjoong. You won't be this one's godfather, so it's time to let go of that fantasy. If you're so eager to be a father, I suggest you focus on having one of your own. After all, you're about to have a Mrs. of your own soon enough."

Before Hongjoong could form a coherent response, he sputtered and flailed, completely caught off guard by the mention of his upcoming wedding. His face flushed a deep crimson, and for a moment, he looked utterly lost. After what felt like an eternity, he finally managed to find his voice.

"T-that's… none of your business!" he stammered, clearly flustered. After all, it had taken him forever to gather the courage to propose to poor Miss Baek. The lengthy courtship had almost convinced the girl's family that the dressmaker had no real intention of marriage, leading to whispered doubts that he was just stringing their daughter along. He hadn't heard the end of it until the day he finally asked for her hand.

Just as he opened his mouth to shoot back a retort at Seonghwa, another voice broke into the conversation.

"About damn time, Kim!" Yunho called out, his deep laughter filling the room as he approached. The physician looked far too smug, and the gleam of amusement in his eyes only made Hongjoong's face burn brighter. The dressmaker shot him a glare.

"Don't get all cocky just because you got married slightly earlier than I did!" the older male of the two snapped, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "What are you even doing here?! The dinner isn't for hours."

The general and his wife shared a knowing look, unable to stifle their chuckles as the doctor raised a brow at the accusation.

"I could ask you the same," Yunho replied, unfazed. He gestured to the bags of medical supplies at his feet. "I'm here to ensure the mistress is in optimal condition before meeting everyone, of course."

Hongjoong sniffed, waving a dismissive hand before gesturing to the garments draped over his arm—a collection of beautifully embroidered hanboks. "And I'm here to ensure she looks as stunning as always. Just as important as you, Jung. Don't flatter yourself. I understand good health is essential," he added, glancing the taller man up and down pointedly. "But clearly, a complete lack of fashion sense can be just as problematic."

Yunho's eyes widened in sheer offence. "Excuse me? What do you mean, a lack of fashion sense?! My wife said I looked—"

The dressmaker lifted a hand, silencing him immediately. "Of course she did, my friend. She's your wife; she has to say that. But I'm not, so I can be brutally honest."

Yunho's mouth opened, then closed again, clearly affronted. "You—"

"Don't take it too personally," Seonghwa interjected, his smirk deepening as he rested a protective hand over your belly. "You know how he is. The moment there's even a whiff of competition, he'll immediately declare himself the best at whatever it is."

"Which is everything," Hongjoong sniffed, lifting his chin proudly.

"That's debatable," the general drawled with a pointed look.

Hongjoong's mouth opened, ready with a comeback, but the doctor raised a hand to cut him off, the irritation from earlier melting into weary acceptance. "Alright, alright, let's get back to why I'm actually here—to make sure our dear Lady Park and the baby are doing well."

The dressmaker rolled his eyes dramatically, waving Yunho off with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Fine, do your little check-up. But once you're done, it's my turn. I have real work to attend to—unlike some people who just poke needles into others all day."

Yunho sighed, dragging a hand down his face in feigned exasperation, while Seonghwa and you exchanged amused looks. They were always like this—bickering, teasing, and turning even the simplest interactions into a spectacle of humour and banter.

You smiled softly. Thinking back to when you first met them all, you never could have imagined that your husband's closest friends would become yours too, filling your life with such unexpected warmth.

Jongho sighed heavily as he stepped into the room, his gaze zeroing in on the dressmaker with a look of pure exasperation. "I swear, there can never be peace with you around. I told you to come an hour later, but you never listen—"

Hongjoong immediately raised a fist, eyes narrowing in mock indignation. "Watch your tone! I'm still older than you," he warned, but the assistant only rolled his eyes, unfazed as he reached out and unceremoniously grabbed the dressmaker by the sleeve.

"And if you don't cooperate, I'll tell Miss Baek you were being difficult again."

That instantly shut him up. The effect was almost comical—the once-feisty designer went rigid, then muttered something unintelligible under his breath before letting the younger man drag him out of the room. The rest of you couldn't hold back your laughter, chuckling at how quickly Hongjoong folded at the mere mention of his fiancée. It was a sight that never got old.

"Well," the physician grinned, shaking his head in amusement, "looks like we've finally found his weakness."

The general chuckled, his gaze lingering on the doorway where the two had vanished. "It's not just him. Look at the rest of us," he said, raising a brow knowingly.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stifle a smile as Yunho continued his check-up, his touch gentle and practised as he listened for the baby's heartbeat. He looked so different now compared to when you'd first met—less guarded, more at ease. The once-serious physician now wore a relaxed smile as he worked. Miss Ryu truly had softened him, just like Miss Kwon had done for Jongho.

Your heart swelled at the thought. Absentmindedly, you rubbed your belly, glancing up at your husband with a soft expression. "They've all changed, haven't they?" you murmured quietly.

His eyes warmed as they met yours, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. "Yes, they have. Just like I have," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. "All thanks to you."

Warmth spread through your chest, and you shifted your gaze back to Yunho, then to the door where Hongjoong and Jongho had disappeared moments before. A sense of anticipation bubbled within you as you thought of the others you'd be seeing later—San, Mingi, and Wooyoung, who had become like brothers to you, and, of course... Prince Yeosang, your dearest friend.

As you imagined future gatherings, you could already see a bustling and heartwarming scene filled with little ones running around, laughter and shouts echoing through the halls, and these men transforming into doting fathers and playful uncles.

Gosh, you could hardly wait to see it all unfold. The future seemed so bright and full of promise, and you knew, deep in your heart, that it would only get better from here.

"What's got you so deep in thought, my lady?" the dressmaker asked with a gentle smile as he carefully painted the signature flower on your forehead—the perfect final touch, as always.

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Do you think His Highness will come?"

Hongjoong scoffed lightly. "I genuinely have no idea, my lady. He seems awfully busy with his new princess," he remarked, and you nodded, a wide smile blooming on your lips.

"He is, and I'm so happy he's finally found someone."

"Then why does it matter if the prince is here?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone already knows I'm going to be this little one's godfather anyway."

You clicked your tongue playfully, rolling your eyes. "Here we go again. I wouldn't be so confident if I were you."

He placed his hands on his hips, feigning offence. "I'm your idiot husband's oldest friend; it only makes sense that I get the title. The rest should just accept it and fall in line."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at his stubbornness. When he finally finished, he stepped back, giving you a once-over before softening, then moved to sit across from you. "You look stunning, my lady."

"Thank you, Joong, for always reminding me of that," you said warmly. "But flattery won't get you anywhere—I've already made up my mind, and it won't be you."

He shot up from his seat, gasping dramatically. "What do you mean it won't be me?! You can't do this to me!"

Before you could respond, the doors to the House of Lotus swung open, and your husband entered. This time, however, he wasn't alone. In his arms, nestled close and bundled in delicate silks, was a little something—or rather, someone—very dear to your heart.

"That's enough, Kim Hongjoong," Seonghwa drawled, his voice tinged with mock annoyance as he stepped forward. "How greedy can you be, huh? You're already Yeonjoo's godfather. I'm not giving you the title again for our next child."

Your heart swelled at the sight—the way it always did whenever you saw your little princess cradled in her father's loving embrace. Her soft giggles filled the room as her tiny fingers curled around his sleeve, and a smile spread across your face. That's right—Hongjoong had been named godfather to your firstborn two years ago. Much to your disappointment, the prince hadn't been able to attend her birth celebration despite his promise, but you understood. He had new priorities and commitments. Still, a small part of you hoped he'd be here this time—for the sake of old memories, and perhaps to provide a sense of closure.

The dressmaker's eyes lit up, and his earlier sulkiness vanished as he nearly skipped forward, excitement radiating off him. "Oh, my little Yeonjoo!" he cooed, his face softening as he reached out to take her carefully from your husband's arms.

"Ugh, fine," he muttered, holding her close and gently stroking her hair as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. "I bet you're just trying to spare my precious Yeonjoo from getting jealous. I suppose one of those other losers can have the honour for the next one," he grumbled, pouting slightly as he gazed down at the little girl.

You chuckled softly at his dramatic tone. Titles aside, it was clear Hongjoong adored your daughter deeply. She looked up at him with wide, shining eyes and a bright smile that could melt even the sternest of hearts, and it was obvious she shared that affection. You watched, warmth flooding your chest, as she patted his cheek clumsily, babbling a string of sweet nonsense that made the man's expression melt into a delighted grin.

"See? Even she agrees," he sniffed proudly, shooting a triumphant look at Seonghwa.

The general rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, but the fondness in his gaze was unmistakable. "Just because my daughter doesn't know better yet doesn't mean I'll indulge you."

"Your appa's just being mean," Hongjoong murmured softly to Yeonjoo, his voice filled with exaggerated sympathy. The little girl giggled, her laughter bright and clear. "But don't worry, sweetheart. You'll always be godfather's number one."

You shook your head, laughter bubbling in your chest as you watched them. "Honestly, Joong, you're going to spoil her rotten."

"Going to?" Seonghwa quirked a brow, looking amused. "He already has." Then he turned his gaze to you, his eyes softening. "But I think our princess deserves to be spoiled a little, don't you?"

You smiled up at him. "Of course. Only the best for our little girl."

"Well, since I won't be the next one's godfather," Hongjoong said, feigning indifference, "who are you going to pick? Don't tell me you're actually considering one of those blockheads."

You exchanged a knowing look with your husband before turning back to the dressmaker, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Maybe. Or maybe I have someone else in mind entirely."

As if on cue, Eunsook, your head maid, appeared at the entrance and offered a respectful bow, her smile warm. Right beside her was Miss Kwon, the ever-diligent maternity expert, who immediately stepped forward, carefully guiding you to your feet.

"The guests have arrived, master and mistress," Eunsook announced softly.

Hongjoong sighed dramatically but complied, reluctantly handing Yeonjoo back to her father. "I suppose I should join the rest of those ruffians then," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the child's cheek before straightening up with a smirk. "See you out there, General and Lady Park."

With one last playful wink, the dressmaker slipped out, leaving the room with a swirl of elegant robes. Your heart fluttered in anticipation, excitement bubbling up within you. You were going to see all your friends again—the people who had become your family over the years.

As Seonghwa cradled your daughter close, his free hand reached for yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You glanced up at him, smiling softly, and he returned the look, his gaze brimming with unspoken emotions. Together, you made your way toward the hall.

"You look well, my lady. Did the medication I recommended help with your sleep disturbances?" Royal Physician Ahn asked as she approached, her voice gentle yet laced with the attentiveness of a true healer. It was the first chance she'd had to speak with you after the initial rounds of greetings exchanged. You had grown fond of her since meeting her at the royal banquet, and especially so after Mingi had begun openly courting her. Since then, she'd been a constant presence in your life, whether by her own will or by His Majesty's orders, assisting in your care both during the last birth and your current pregnancy.

You nodded warmly, squeezing her hand in return. "It did, Physician Ahn. It worked like magic. I've been sleeping like a baby lately, all thanks to you."

Her shoulders relaxed visibly, and she let out a soft sigh of relief. You couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips as you leaned closer, your tone turning mischievous. "Congratulations on your engagement, by the way. Who would have thought Officer Song had it in him to win you over, hm?"

A delicate blush painted her cheeks as she stammered, utterly flustered. But before you could tease her further, a tall shadow loomed beside her, and Mingi stepped in, a broad grin spreading across his face as he slid an arm around his fiancée's shoulders. "Now, now, Lady Park, let's not overwhelm her," he chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You know she's still not used to all the attention."

"I'm simply complimenting your success, Officer Song," you shot back playfully. "It's not every day someone catches the interest of the Royal Physician."

Mingi's grin widened, but before he could respond, another voice interjected, stealing your attention.

"Look at you, Lady Park. It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating little Yeonjoo's birth, and now, here we are again, awaiting another mini Park. You and the general certainly don't waste time, do you?" Scholar Moon's teasing tone cut through the room as she approached, linked arm-in-arm with her husband, Royal Secretary Choi.

You felt your cheeks flame at the comment, especially when San shot his wife a chiding look and squeezed her arm as if to gently rein her in. "Darling, don't embarrass the lady," he murmured softly, though the amusement in his eyes belied his words.

You tried to sputter a reply, mortified, but before you could get a word out, a familiar warmth appeared at your side. Your husband was suddenly there, his presence solid and reassuring, a small, amused smirk playing at his lips. He looked so effortlessly charming, and it made your heart flutter just looking at him.

"Indeed, we don't waste time," he agreed smoothly, his gaze shifting playfully to Scholar Moon. "But perhaps it's time you and San hurry up and have one of your own as well, Scholar Moon."

Her mouth fell open in shock, eyes widening as she spluttered, "I—! We're not—!"

"I don't think we're quite there yet," Secretary Choi intervened gently, though his strained smile hinted at his own embarrassment. His eyes flicked between you and the general before landing back on his wife, whose face was now a bright shade of red.

Stifling a laugh, you nudged Seonghwa lightly. "Behave, Hwa," you murmured, though your grin betrayed your halfhearted scolding.

"But it's true, isn't it?" he persisted with mock innocence, raising an eyebrow. "Everyone knows San's eager to start a family. Why not make it official?" He cast the secretary's wife a pointed look, making her blush deepen to an alarming shade.

"You—!" she started, but before she could finish, a joyful peal of laughter rang out from across the room. You turned your head just in time to see Investigator Jung cradling Yeonjoo in his arms with his partner hovering close beside him with an adoring look on her face as she watched the two of them.

"Yeonjoo certainly knows how to charm everyone, doesn't she?" Miss Han remarked warmly, her gaze softening as she looked up at the little girl. "Just look at her. She's going to be quite the heartbreaker one day."

Wooyoung chuckled, gently bouncing the child and eliciting a delighted squeal from her. "With parents like these two? There's no doubt about it." He glanced over at you and Seonghwa, his playful expression turning sincere. "Congratulations again, General, Lady Park. Your family is truly blessed."

"Thank you, Wooyoung," you replied softly, watching as your daughter gurgled happily in his arms. Your gaze shifted to Miss Han, her presence calm and grounding beside him. "And I hope it's not long before we're congratulating the two of you as well."

She blushed, her eyes darting to Wooyoung, who just laughed, the sound rich and unburdened. "Perhaps soon," he murmured, a hint of promise in his voice. "But for now, let's focus on celebrating you."

It was then that you caught Miss Ryu's gaze from across the room—her smile brightening the moment your eyes met. Now officially Yunho's wife, she looked radiant as ever as she hurried over, her husband trailing behind her with a knowing grin.

"Oh, you're glowing, my lady. I'm convinced this one's a son," she said, her voice lilting with excitement.

The physician chuckled softly beside her. "She's been saying that for months now," he teased, gently squeezing her shoulder.

You shared a hopeful glance with Seonghwa before turning back to her. "Thank you. We've been hoping for a boy too," you admitted, warmth filling your chest at the thought.

Before anyone could say more, Hongjoong sauntered over, his arm loosely wrapped around his fiancée's back. "I'm sure having a son is nice and all," he scoffed lightly, "but are you positive that's why she's glowing?" His gaze turned mischievous as he leaned forward, clearly fishing for compliments.

Miss Baek's eyes widened, and she gave him a small nudge, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Joong, please…"

But the dressmaker, being himself, merely shot her a wink. He cast a playful look at the physician's wife, who raised a brow in challenge. The teasing rivalry between them was no secret, and it extended to their spouses as well.

"If you think it's your makeup skills making her glow, I'm going to have to scientifically explain to you why it's a lot more than just your artificial tools enhancing her appearance," the herbalist shot back with a laugh, her words soft yet precise. Her analytical nature was showing, and it made Yunho's smile grow wider.

Hongjoong's jaw dropped, feigning outrage. "Excuse me? Are you doubting my artistic abilities, Mrs. Jung?"

Just then, Jongho appeared, his hand linked with Miss Kwon's as they joined the growing circle. He rolled his eyes, already looking exasperated. "Please, don't start. I swear, every time you two are in the same room, it turns into a debate."

You stifled a laugh, shaking your head as you glanced around at the gathered group. Yet, despite the lively chatter and warm company, there was still a lingering sense of something—someone—missing. You found yourself scanning the room again, your heart dipping slightly as you realised that perhaps he truly wasn't coming after all. Maybe the promises of friendship had been nothing more than a polite white lie to comfort you back then. Perhaps…

"Apologies for our tardiness! It felt like the entire city decided to celebrate with us today—the crowds made it nearly impossible for our carriage to get through smoothly."

The deep, familiar voice cut through the air, and everyone's heads whipped around in unison. After a moment of stunned silence, they quickly bowed deeply, voices mingling in a respectful murmur.

"These subjects greet Your Highnesses."

Yeosang and his wife exchanged quick, flustered glances before raising their hands to stop the gesture. "Oh no, please! There's no need for such formality," the newly minted fourth princess said warmly. "We're here as friends today."

It was your first time meeting her, but her grace and kindness were immediately apparent, and you found yourself thinking how perfectly she complemented the prince. Your heart, which had felt heavy just moments ago, lightened at the sight of the couple as they stepped forward to join the circle.

The fourth prince's gaze found yours, and he flashed you a familiar, boyish grin. "I hope we haven't missed too much. Please, let the princess and me know how we can make up for our tardiness."

Your smile softened warmly. "Better late than never, Your Highnesses." You glanced at your husband, a sense of peace washing over you as he gave you a gentle, encouraging nod.

"No need to worry," you continued with a welcoming tone. "You haven't missed anything major. After all, the main event can't truly begin without the new baby's godparents present." The royal couple's eyes widened in surprise at your words, while the rest of your friends cheered.

"And you can make up for being late by accepting the role," General Park added with a teasing smile.

And that is all, folks. This is the final chapter and it officially concludes the TWTHH series. It's a bittersweet feeling to end it; it's undoubtedly one of my proudest creations, but I'm also super excited to finally be able to work on newer things!

Once again, I just want to thank each and every one of you for being with me on this journey. I hope this epilogue was decent! Perhaps some of you might not agree with who I've chosen to be little Park's godfather (but my heart wants what it wants lmfao). Y'all, let me know your thoughts! It'd be awesome if you could share a bit about how you stumbled upon this story and what you liked about it! <3

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Again such a good story!

Rule Breaker M.List

❥ pairing: han jisung x female reader (feat. hwang hyunjin) ❥ genres/tropes/au: series, fluff, romance, angst, boxer!jisung, journalism major!reader, fake dating!au, college!au ❥ rating: pg-13 ❥ warnings: included in each individual chapter ❥ status: completed ❥ word count: 87.7k ❥ synopsis: Han Jisung only wants one thing: to get his ex back. And for that, his best plan is to get a fake girlfriend, choosing Y/N as the one. Although she is not very happy with this idea, she knows she also has something to gain from this. She agrees with one condition: they must follow her list of rules. However, a simple list of rules cannot prevent one from falling in love and the other from getting their heart broken.

❥ lia's note: Your eyes are not deceiving you. This is a new masterlist for Rule Breaker because I'm back. I've decided to bring back some beloved fics, so here we are, starting with this one. This version will be edited to include fewer grammar mistakes, fewer typos and maybe a few additions here and there. The plot will remain the same with a few small tweaks to tie everything together nicely. This story is inspired by To All The Boys I've Loved Before, so you might see some similarities between this fic and the movie (I haven't read the books)

[stray kids m.list] ● [join my taglist]

🎡 Chapter List 🎡

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen (Finale)

Disclaimer: This fic is a work of fiction. The representation given to the idols does not reflect my opinion nor the actions of these individuals in real life.

© mxxndreams 2024 Copying, reposting, translating and/or any modifications of my work are strictly prohibited. Moodboard images from Pinterest. I do not own the rights to any of them, credit goes to rightful owners. If any of the images featured is yours, please reach out to me so I can properly credit it or remove it.

So cute!

embers – choi soobin

word count: 16.4k

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: After a devastating breakup in Seoul, Y/N returns to her small hometown, seeking solace in the familiar but finding her past more complicated than she remembered. As she reconnects with her family, twin brother Beomgyu, and her childhood friends Ryujin and Soobin, the unresolved feelings she has for Soobin begin to resurface. Amidst the backdrop of small-town life and the warmth of old friendships, Y/N must navigate the pain of her past to discover whether her heart truly belongs in the place she left behind—or in the arms of the person who's always been there, waiting.

genre: love next door!au, childhood friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, suggestive themes

The train slows as it nears the station, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks gradually fading. Outside the window, the cityscape of Seoul has long since given way to the rolling hills and open fields of Gwangcheon, the small town you once called home. You haven’t been back in years, not since you left for university and the bright lights of the city. Now, the sight of it fills you with a mixture of anxiety and reluctant nostalgia.

Your reflection in the window stares back at you, eyes still puffy from the sleepless nights that have plagued you since the breakup. Seoul was supposed to be your fresh start, your escape from the confines of small-town life. Instead, it became the place where everything fell apart.

His name was Daehyun. You met during your second year of university, in a café just off campus where you both liked to study. He had a warm smile, the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, and a outgoing personality that drew you in. He was different from anyone you’d ever met—sophisticated, ambitious, and completely in control of his life. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

For a while, everything was perfect. He introduced you to a world you’d only ever dreamed of—fancy restaurants, art galleries, weekend trips to places you’d never been. He made you feel special, important, like you were part of something bigger. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, things began to change. 

He became distant, absorbed in his work and his own life. You told yourself it was just a phase, that he was busy, that he still cared. But the late-night arguments started, his voice cold and cutting as he accused you of being too needy, too demanding. You tried to make it work, to hold onto the relationship that had once made you so happy. But it was like trying to hold water in your hands—the more you tried, the more it slipped away.

The final straw came when you found out he’d been seeing someone else, a girl from his work. The betrayal cut deep, shattering the last remnants of the trust you’d once had in him. You confronted him, hoping for an apology, for some sign that he still cared. But all he said was that he didn’t see a future with you, that it was better to end things now before it got worse.

You left his apartment that night, your heart in pieces, the life you’d built in Seoul suddenly meaningless. You couldn’t stay there, surrounded by memories of him, by the constant reminders of what you’d lost. So you packed your things, bought a train ticket, and left the city behind without a word to anyone.

As the train pulls into the station, you force yourself to take a deep breath. You’re not ready for this, not ready to face your family and the questions you know are coming. But there’s no turning back now. The past few months have been a blur of pain and confusion, and all you can do is hope that coming home will help you find some semblance of peace.

The station is small, just as you remember it, with only a handful of people waiting on the platform. As you step off the train, your suitcase rolling behind you, you spot Beomgyu leaning against the hood of the family car. He hasn’t changed much—your twin brother is tall and lean, with the same mischievous glint in his eyes that’s been there since you were kids. But there’s something else in his expression now, something softer, more understanding.

When he sees you, his face lights up with a smile that makes your heart ache with a bittersweet mix of relief and guilt. He pushes off the car and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug before you can say anything.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice warm and familiar. “You made it.”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Yeah. I’m here.”

He pulls back, studying your face with a concerned frown. “You okay?”

You manage a shaky smile. “Not really. But I will be.”

He nods, seeming to understand. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The drive through town is quiet, the silence between you and Beomgyu filled with unspoken words. The streets of Gwangcheon look almost exactly as they did when you left—small shops with faded signs, the old school building, and the park where you and Beomgyu used to play. The familiarity is comforting, but also disorienting, like stepping into a past you’re not sure you belong to anymore.

Beomgyu keeps glancing over at you as he drives, his expression thoughtful. “Mom’s going to be surprised,” he says after a while. “You didn’t give her any warning.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell her. Or what to say.”

“She’ll understand,” he says firmly. “She’s just going to be happy you’re home.”

You nod, hoping he’s right. You haven’t told anyone the full story—not your parents, not Beomgyu, not even your closest friends. It’s too raw, too painful to put into words. But you know you can’t avoid it forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face the questions, the concern, the inevitable pity.

When you pull up to the house, the familiar sight of it brings a rush of memories. It’s a modest place, with a small garden out front that your mother has always taken pride in. The curtains in the living room window flutter slightly, a sign that someone inside has noticed your arrival.

Beomgyu grabs your suitcase from the trunk and gives you a reassuring smile. “Ready?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you follow him up the path anyway, your heart pounding in your chest.

He opens the door without knocking, calling out, “Mom! We’re here!”

You step into the entryway, the familiar scent of home—lavender and something faintly floral—washing over you. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. You can hear footsteps coming down the hall, and then your mother appears, her face lighting up with surprise and confusion as she sees you standing there.

“Y/N?” she says, her voice filled with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

You try to smile, but it feels forced. “Surprise?”

For a moment, she just stares at you, as if trying to convince herself that you’re really here. Then she steps forward, pulling you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with a familiarity that brings tears to your eyes. You can feel the tension in her shoulders, the worry she’s trying to hide, but she doesn’t say anything, just holds you like she’s afraid to let go.

After a long moment, she pulls back, her hands still resting on your shoulders as she studies your face. “What happened, sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. “I…I needed to get away. From Seoul. From everything.”

Her expression softens, and she nods, understanding without you needing to explain further. “You’re home now,” she says gently. “That’s all that matters.”

Beomgyu sets your suitcase down by the stairs and gives you a small smile. “I’ll take your stuff up to your room.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his quiet support.

Your mother guides you into the living room, where the afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the familiar furniture. You sit down on the sofa, feeling the weight of the past few months pressing down on you. Your mother sits beside you, her hand resting on yours, offering silent comfort.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly, her voice full of concern.

You shake your head, the tears threatening to spill over. “Not yet. I just…I need some time.”

She nods, squeezing your hand gently. “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. We’re here for you.”

The warmth of her words wraps around you like a blanket, easing some of the tension that has been sitting in your chest. You lean back against the sofa, letting out a long breath as you try to relax. The house is quiet, the only sound the distant ticking of the old clock on the mantel.

Beomgyu returns a few minutes later, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. “Everything’s in your room,” he says, sitting down on the armchair across from you. “Figured you might want to unpack later.”

You nod, too exhausted to do much more than that. “Thanks, Beomgyu.”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s just as relieved as you are to have you home. “What are brothers for?”

Your mother glances between the two of you, her expression a mixture of relief and concern. “Why don’t we have some tea? I just made a fresh pot.”

You agree, grateful for the distraction. As she heads to the kitchen, Beomgyu gives you a knowing look. “Want to sneak out?”

You laugh, slightly taken aback before shaking your head. You’ve been away so long, too long, and it’s made you momentarily forget how much you missed your brother and all of his mischief.

When your mother returns with the tea, the three of you settle into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the house seeping into your bones. For the first time in weeks, you feel a small flicker of hope, like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay again.

You sit with Beomgyu and your mother, sipping tea in the cozy living room. The warmth of the tea combined with the comforting atmosphere starts to thaw the cold ache in your chest. Your mother chatters about the latest town gossip, the news she knows you haven’t kept up with since moving to Seoul. Beomgyu chimes in now and then, adding his own commentary that makes your mother smile and shake her head in that fond, exasperated way she always does with him.

You’re beginning to feel a sense of normalcy, like maybe you can fit back into this life, even after everything that’s happened. But just as you start to relax, the sound of the front door opening interrupts the moment.

Your father’s voice echoes from the hallway, a familiar deep rumble that always made you feel safe as a child. “Honey, I’m home! You’ll never guess what—” He stops mid-sentence as he steps into the living room, his eyes landing on you. For a second, he just stares, as if trying to process whether or not you’re real. 

“Y/N?” His voice is filled with disbelief, his eyes wide as he looks at you. “Am I dreaming, or is my daughter really sitting on my couch?”

You stand up, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s me, Dad. I’m home.”

He blinks a few times, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Well, I’ll be! The prodigal daughter returns!” He strides across the room and wraps you in a bear hug, lifting you slightly off the ground like he used to when you were little. You laugh, the sound surprising you with how natural it feels.

When he finally sets you down, he steps back and gives you a once-over, his expression a mix of concern and affection. “What brings you back to our little corner of the world? You didn’t even tell us you were coming!”

Your mother, who had been watching with a fond smile, steps in before you can answer. “She needed a break from the city, that’s all. And we’re just happy to have her back, aren’t we?”

“Happy?” Your dad scoffs playfully. “That’s an understatement! This calls for a celebration!” He claps his hands together, then turns to Beomgyu. “Go grab that cake from the fridge, son. We’ve got something to celebrate now!”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes but grins, heading to the kitchen to fetch the cake. You can’t help but smile at your dad’s enthusiasm. He’s always been the lighthearted one, the one who could turn any situation into something to laugh about. It’s comforting, especially after everything you’ve been through.

As you all settle back into the living room with slices of cake, your dad starts telling stories from work, exaggerating the mundane until you’re all laughing so hard your sides hurt. For a moment, you forget about the heartbreak, the betrayal, and the uncertainty. Here, with your family, things feel almost normal again.

After a while, the conversation turns quieter, the evening settling in around you. You glance out the window, the sky a deep indigo as night takes hold. It’s been a long day, and the emotional toll of coming home is starting to catch up with you.

“I think I’m going to head up to my room,” you say, rising from the sofa. “It’s been a long day.”

Your mother looks up at you, her eyes soft with understanding. “Of course, sweetheart. Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Beomgyu nods, still munching on his cake. “Yeah, you’ll need your energy for Mom’s full interrogation tomorrow.”

You laugh softly, but there’s a sadness in it, too. You wave goodnight and head upstairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps under your feet. Your room is exactly as you left it—well, almost. There are a few changes, little signs that your mother has kept it clean and cozy even in your absence. The bed is freshly made, and the shelves are dusted, but everything else is just as it was when you left for Seoul.

You set your suitcase down and walk over to the window, looking out at the quiet street. It’s so different from the bustling chaos of Seoul, where everything felt like it was moving too fast, too uncontrollably. Here, everything is still, calm, almost eerily peaceful. You sit on the edge of your bed, the weight of the day finally pressing down on you. The ache in your chest that you’ve been holding at bay all evening starts to grow, and you can feel the tears welling up behind your eyes.

But before you can let yourself break down, there’s a soft tapping at your window.

You freeze, confused, then look over. Your heart skips a beat when you see Ryujin standing outside, a wide grin on her face, her breath fogging up the glass. She waves at you, her smile so familiar it makes you want to cry.

You scramble to open the window, and she immediately climbs inside with the grace and ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. As soon as she’s in, she tackles you in a hug, nearly knocking you off the bed.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Ryujin says, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. “When my mom said she saw you coming home, I thought she was joking!”

You laugh, the sound choked by the emotion in your throat, and hug her back tightly. “I’m here. I’m really here.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face with concern. “I knew something was up when I didn’t hear from you for a while, but I didn’t expect this. Are you okay?”

You shake your head, tears finally spilling over. “Not really. But being here…it helps.”

Ryujin’s expression softens, and she wipes away your tears with her thumb. “You’re home now. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod, unable to speak as more tears fall. She pulls you into another hug, her presence a comfort you didn’t realize you needed so badly. The two of you sit there for a long time, just holding each other in the dim light of your room.

Eventually, Ryujin pulls back and flops onto your bed, patting the spot beside her. “Come on, let’s catch up. It’s been way too long since we had one of our late-night talks.”

You smile through your tears and join her, the two of you lying side by side like you used to in high school. The conversation flows easily, like no time has passed at all. She tells you about everything that’s happened in Gwangcheon since you left—who’s dating who, the latest school scandals, and all the little things you’ve missed.

As the night wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your breakup and the move back home easing just a little. 

“So…have you seen Soobin yet?”

You stiffen slightly, the name bringing back a flood of memories you’ve been trying to keep at bay. Soobin, your childhood friend, the boy who lived next door. The boy who was always there, even when you didn’t realize how much you needed him. 

“No,” you say quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

Ryujin rolls onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you. “He’s been around, you know. Helping his mom with the garden, hanging out at the old spots. I think he’ll be really happy to see you.”

You nod, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and fear. You’ve kept in touch with Soobin, but it’s been sporadic, the two of you drifting apart as you got older and your lives took different paths. But now that you’re back, there’s a part of you that’s terrified of what seeing him again might mean.

Ryujin seems to sense your hesitation and reaches out to squeeze your hand. “It’ll be okay, Y/N. He’s still Soobin, and you’re still you. Just…talk to him. Like old times.”

You nod again, but the knot in your stomach doesn’t loosen. You know you’ll have to face him eventually, just like you have to face everything else. But for tonight, you’re grateful to have Ryujin by your side, helping you navigate the tangled mess of your emotions.

As the two of you talk late into the night, you feel a little more like yourself, a little more like the girl who used to lie here with her best friend, dreaming about the future and everything it held. 

You wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs, the scent of your mother’s pancakes filling the air. The sun is just beginning to filter through your curtains, and for a moment, you feel a sense of peace, as if the world outside your window isn’t so complicated. It’s a sharp contrast to the rush and chaos of Seoul mornings, where you barely had time to grab a piece of toast before running out the door. 

You roll over, half expecting to see Ryujin still curled up next to you, but the spot beside you is empty. Her absence pulls you from the cocoon of warmth you’d wrapped yourself in. Your mind flickers with the memory of last night, the way she’d asked about Soobin, and how much his name had unsettled you. You stretch out the tension from your limbs, a part of you grateful that she didn’t push the conversation further.

After quickly changing into something comfortable, you head downstairs, following the sounds of clattering dishes and the hum of conversation. When you reach the kitchen, you find your mother at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease. Your father is seated at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper. Beomgyu, ever the night owl, is half-asleep with his head on the table, barely managing to keep his eyes open. 

“Good morning,” you say, sliding into the chair next to Beomgyu. He grunts a sleepy response, still not fully awake.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother replies brightly, turning to give you a warm smile. “I was just about to call you down. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Your dad peers over the top of his newspaper, giving you a nod of greeting. “Morning, kiddo. Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you say, though the truth is that your sleep was fitful, your mind too busy with thoughts of everything that’s changed. But you don’t want to burden your parents with that, not when they’re so happy to have you home.

Just as you’re about to ask where Ryujin went, the front door swings open with a loud creak, and she bursts into the kitchen, a wide grin on her face. And right behind her is Soobin.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, the memories of last night’s conversation rushing back. He looks almost exactly as you remember—tall, with that familiar mop of dark hair falling into his eyes. There’s something in the way he carries himself that’s different now, though—a quiet confidence that wasn’t there when you were kids.

“Look who I found wandering around outside!” Ryujin announces, her voice full of mischief. She’s practically dragging Soobin by the arm as she pulls him into the kitchen. He gives her an exasperated look, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning,” Soobin says, his voice warm but slightly hesitant as his eyes meet yours. You can tell he’s unsure, probably wondering how you’re going to react after all this time.

“Morning, Soobin!” your mother says cheerfully, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to be here. “Sit down, I’ll get you a plate. We’ve got plenty of pancakes.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Soobin replies, taking a seat at the table. Ryujin plops down next to him, grinning at the both of you like she knows something you don’t. 

You offer Soobin a small smile, still feeling the awkwardness lingering between you, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth of seeing him again. “Hey, Soobin.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, returning your smile. His voice is softer than you remember, but there’s a steadiness to it that reassures you. The tension between you begins to ease just a little.

“Finally,” Beomgyu mumbles, pushing himself up from the table, more awake now that the smell of pancakes has fully roused him. “I thought I was the only one getting dragged out of bed this early.”

Ryujin snickers. “Oh, please, Beomgyu. You’re always the last one up. I had to do all the work to get him here.”

Soobin chuckles, shaking his head. “She practically jumped through my window to get me up. I’m still not sure how she got into my house.”

Beomgyu grins, the drowsiness now fully replaced by his usual humor. “That’s just Ryujin for you. No one is safe from her morning raids.”

“Exactly,” Ryujin says, unrepentant. She looks at Soobin, then at you, a glint of something in her eyes. “Anyway, I figured you’d want to see each other. It’s been way too long.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, but you quickly focus on your breakfast, not wanting to let the moment become too heavy. Still, you can feel Soobin’s gaze on you, and when you glance up, he’s watching you with that same soft, almost nostalgic expression.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “It has been.”

The conversation around the table soon picks up, with your dad jumping in to share some of the ridiculous stories from his job, while Ryujin and Beomgyu start bickering over the last pancake. Soobin joins in, his laugh filling the room and making you remember all the times the three of you hung out here after school, eating snacks your mom prepared while you joked around until your sides hurt.

For a while, the stiffness between you and Soobin fades, and you find yourselves slipping back into the easy childhood friendship you once shared. He teases you about your terrible aim in the old treehouse slingshot wars, and you fire back about his disastrous attempt at baking cookies that one time. Even Beomgyu gets in on it, reminding Soobin of the time he got stuck in the fence trying to sneak into your backyard.

“Oh my god, I thought we agreed never to speak of that again,” Soobin groans, his face turning slightly red as everyone laughs.

“No way, man,” Beomgyu says, grinning. “That’s one of the all-time classics. Right up there with Ryujin breaking the garden gnome.”

“That gnome was creepy anyway,” Ryujin protests, but she’s laughing, too.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, the sound coming easier than it has in weeks. It feels good, like a small piece of the puzzle that is your life is clicking back into place. The breakfast stretches longer than you expected, the food mostly forgotten as the four of you talk and joke like old times.

Eventually, though, the clock on the wall chimes, reminding Soobin that he has to go. He glances at it and sighs, reluctantly pushing his chair back.

“I should head out,” he says, looking a bit regretful. “Work and all that.”

You nod, feeling a pang of disappointment that surprises you. “Yeah, of course. Thanks for coming over.”

Soobin smiles at you, and this time, it reaches his eyes. “Anytime, Y/N. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you say softly, and you mean it.

He says his goodbyes to your parents, who wave him off with promises to invite him over for dinner soon. Ryujin walks him to the door, but not before giving you a knowing look over her shoulder.

Once he’s gone, the house feels a little quieter, a little emptier, though the warmth from breakfast still lingers. Beomgyu leans back in his chair, stretching with a contented sigh.

“Well, that was nice,” he says, then gives you a teasing smile. “You and Soobin seemed to get along pretty well, huh?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush slightly. “Shut up, Beomgyu.”

“Come on, he’s just teasing,” Ryujin says, returning to the kitchen with a satisfied grin. “It was nice seeing you two together again. Felt like old times.”

You smile, though there’s a lot left unsaid. “Yeah, it did.”

The sun hangs low in the sky as you make your way back home, the weight of the grocery bags in your hands grounding you in the moment. The streets of your hometown are quieter now, bathed in the soft hues of evening, and the familiarity of it all is both comforting and unsettling. You pass by houses you know so well, each one holding memories from a time when life felt simpler.

When you reach your house, you notice a familiar figure standing on a ladder just outside the front door. Soobin is there, fiddling with a light fixture, his tall frame stretched to its limit as he tries to reach the wiring. You pause for a moment, watching him, a mix of amusement and curiosity bubbling up inside you. 

As if sensing your presence, Soobin glances down and catches your eye, a grin spreading across his face. “Back already? I thought I had more time to finish this before you got home.”

“Guess I’m faster than you thought,” you reply, smirking as you walk up to the door. “What are you doing, anyway? Isn’t that light Beomgyu’s job?”

Soobin scoffs, shaking his head as he returns to his work. “Beomgyu can barely change a light bulb without breaking something. Your mom called me over. Said this thing’s been flickering for weeks.”

You chuckle, knowing all too well how disastrous Beomgyu can be with household tasks. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m surprised you’re the one she called, though.”

Soobin shrugs, still focused on the light. “She knows I’m good at this stuff. And I guess I can’t say no to her.”

You stand there for a moment, watching as he works. There’s something oddly satisfying about seeing him like this, so at ease with himself, even in the small, mundane task of fixing a light. It’s a stark contrast to the image of him you had in your mind all those years in Seoul, where he was just a memory, something to miss in quiet moments.

Finally, he finishes up, stepping down from the ladder and giving the light a final check. “There. All fixed,” he announces, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Impressive,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe. “But you missed a spot.”

Soobin’s eyes narrow playfully. “Where?”

You point to a random spot on the light, smirking as he follows your finger. “Right there.”

He rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re messing with him. “Very funny, Y/N.”

You laugh, pushing off the doorframe. “You’re welcome. Now, help me with these groceries.”

He obliges, taking a few of the heavier bags from your hands as you both head inside. The house is warm and cozy, the smells of dinner already wafting through the air. Your mom calls out a greeting from the kitchen, but it’s clear she’s busy with preparations.

You and Soobin head to the living room, where you set the bags down on the coffee table. The room is quiet, save for the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and it’s strange being alone with him again, after all this time.

“So, how long are you staying?” Soobin asks casually, breaking the silence as he takes a seat on the couch.

You hesitate, knowing that question has been on the tip of everyone’s tongues since you arrived. “I’m not sure yet. I guess it depends.”

“Depends on what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You shrug, avoiding his gaze. “A lot of things.”

He watches you for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure you out, then changes the subject. “You still remember how to cook, right? Or do I need to take over in the kitchen?”

You scoff, grabbing the bag of vegetables and heading to the kitchen. “Please, I’ve been living on my own for years. I’m pretty sure I know how to chop a few vegetables.”

Soobin follows you, leaning against the counter as you start to unpack the groceries. “Just checking. You never know, city life might’ve turned you into one of those takeout-only types.”

“Not a chance,” you say, setting a cutting board on the counter and grabbing a knife. “But thanks for the concern.”

He smirks, watching as you begin slicing the vegetables with practiced ease. “I’m impressed. Maybe you have changed.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re the one who’s changed, not me. I never would’ve pegged you as the handy type.”

He laughs softly. “People can surprise you.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, exchanging banter as you prepare dinner. It feels almost like old times, the bickering and teasing coming naturally, even after all the years apart. But there’s an underlying tension, a sense that there’s more to say, more to ask.

As you chop up the last of the vegetables, Soobin clears his throat, the casual tone of the conversation shifting slightly. “So, uh… are you still with that guy? Daehyun, or something?” he hesitates when saying his name, like he can’t quite remember it, but it sounds almost as if he can exactly remember.

Your hands freeze for a moment, the knife hovering over the cutting board. You knew this question would come eventually, but you hadn’t expected it so soon, or so directly. You glance at Soobin, who’s watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place.

“No,” you say quietly, resuming your chopping at a slower pace. “We… broke up.”

Soobin’s brow furrows in concern. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, forcing a smile as you set the knife down. “It was… a long time coming, I guess.”

He nods slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You take a deep breath, debating how much to tell him. You haven’t even told your parents the whole truth, not wanting to worry them more than necessary. But with Soobin, it feels different—like maybe you owe him at least some of the truth.

“It just… wasn’t working out,” you say, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “We wanted different things. Or rather, he wanted something I couldn’t give him.”

Soobin’s gaze softens, and you can tell he’s piecing it together, but he doesn’t push. “Sounds like he was an idiot.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I was the idiot for sticking around as long as I did.”

He shakes his head, his expression turning serious. “You’re not an idiot, Y/N. Sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how much you want them to.”

You meet his eyes, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah. I just wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, Soobin’s presence a steadying force as you let the weight of your words settle between you. It’s not the whole story, not by a long shot, but it’s more than you’ve told anyone else. And for now, that’s enough.

“Well,” Soobin says after a moment, his tone lighter as he pushes off the counter, “if you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to make fun of, you know where to find me.”

You smile, genuinely this time. “Thanks, Soobin. I appreciate that.”

He grins, that easy, familiar smile that you’ve missed more than you realized. “Anytime, Y/N.”

As you both continue preparing dinner, the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable, more familiar. It’s strange how quickly you’ve fallen back into this dynamic, but it’s also comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

And you allow yourself to think for a moment that maybe being back home wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur of small-town rhythms, a stark contrast to the constant noise and motion of Seoul. You find yourself falling back into old routines, hanging out with Ryujin, spending time with your family, and catching up with Soobin. It’s comforting, in a way, but also unsettling—like you’re living in a strange limbo, where everything is familiar but slightly off-kilter.

Ryujin is a constant presence, as she always was, dragging you out of the house whenever she can. Whether it’s to grab a coffee, take a walk around the neighborhood, or just sit and gossip like you used to in high school, she’s there, her energy relentless. She never pushes you to talk about why you came home, though. She’s content to let you come to her when you’re ready, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your parents, on the other hand, aren’t as subtle. Your mom, especially, hovers more than usual, her concern evident in the way she keeps asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if there’s something you want to talk about. You deflect with practiced ease, reassuring her that you’re fine, that you just needed a break from the city. She seems to accept it, but you can tell she’s not convinced.

Soobin is around often, whether he’s coming over to help with something around the house or just hanging out with you and Beomgyu. You fall back into an easy friendship with him, the teasing and bickering coming naturally, just like it always did. But there’s something different now, a tension that lingers beneath the surface, something neither of you acknowledges but both of you feel.

It’s on one of these typical days that Soobin invites you out for dinner with some of his coworkers. “It’ll be fun,” he promises as the two of you lounge in the living room, flipping through TV channels. “They’re a good group. Plus, I could use someone to keep me in check.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Since when do you need someone to keep you in check?”

Soobin grins. “Since I started working with these guys. They like to drink. A lot.”

You laugh, but you agree to go. The thought of getting out of the house, doing something different, is appealing. Plus, you’re curious to meet the people Soobin spends his time with these days.

That night, you find yourself in a cozy, bustling restaurant, surrounded by Soobin and his coworkers. They’re a lively bunch, full of jokes and stories, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel at ease with them. The drinks start flowing almost as soon as you sit down, and before long, the whole group is in high spirits.

You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your veins as you listen to Soobin’s coworkers tell ridiculous stories about him. Soobin, for his part, takes it all in stride, grinning sheepishly as his friends poke fun at him.

At some point, the conversation turns to confessions—nothing too serious, just silly admissions brought on by the alcohol. One of Soobin’s coworkers, a guy named Jisoo, starts it off, confessing that he once got caught sneaking into his girlfriend’s house by her parents, who thought he was a burglar. The table erupts in laughter, and soon everyone’s sharing their own embarrassing stories.

When it’s Soobin’s turn, he hesitates, glancing at you with a mischievous grin. “Alright, but you can’t judge me too harshly, okay?”

You raise your glass, already giggling. “No promises.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. So… back in high school, I had the biggest crush on someone, and I spent an entire year pretending to be terrible at math just so she’d tutor me.”

The table bursts into laughter, but the alcohol and thoughts in your mind start suddenly swirling around rapidly. Didn’t you give him algebra lessons in 10th grade? Maybe he’s talking about someone else…

“Did it work?” someone asks.

Soobin shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I passed algebra, didn’t I?”

The laughter continues, and you feel a strange warmth in your chest, and his added comment only continues to make your mind race. The night goes on, and the drinks keep coming, until you’re all a little too tipsy, the world spinning just enough to make everything feel surreal. The drinks have taken off the edge about Soobin’s comments, for a little while at least.

At some point, Soobin leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “You know, I really did have a crush on you back then.”

You blink, surprised by the sudden confession, but before you can respond, he pulls back, his eyes a little unfocused as he gives you a lopsided grin. “Too much to drink, huh?”

You smile softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I guess so,” you breath out, the word increasing its spinning around you but you’re not convinced it’s because of the alcohol anymore.

He chuckles, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Maybe.”

The moment hangs between you, charged with an intensity that’s almost too much to bear. But before anything else can happen, Soobin’s head lolls to the side, his eyes slipping shut as he mumbles something incoherent.

“Great,” you mutter, half-amused, half-exasperated as you try to shake him awake. “Soobin, come on, don’t pass out on me now.”

But he’s out cold, his breathing steady as he slumps against the table. You sigh, realizing there’s no way you’re getting him home by yourself. With a resigned smile, you pull out your phone and call Beomgyu.

He answers on the second ring, sounding more amused than concerned when you explain the situation. “Of course, he passed out. Why am I not surprised?”

“Just hurry up and get over here,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I can’t carry him by myself.”

Beomgyu arrives a short while later, looking entirely too amused by the situation as he takes in the sight of Soobin slumped over the table. “Wow, he’s really out, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to laugh as you stand up. “Think you can handle him?”

Beomgyu snorts. “Do I have a choice?”

With some effort, the two of you manage to get Soobin on his feet, though he’s mostly dead weight, mumbling incoherently as you half-drag, half-carry him out of the restaurant. The fresh air hits you like a shock, clearing your head just enough to realize how ridiculous this all is.

“This is a disaster,” you mutter, struggling to keep Soobin upright as Beomgyu does most of the heavy lifting.

Beomgyu chuckles. “It’s a disaster you walked right into.”

Before long, you realize that even with Beomgyu’s help, getting Soobin all the way back home is going to be nearly impossible. You try to be optimistic, but when Soobin starts to slip from your grasp, you realize you need reinforcements.

“I think we need to call Ryujin,” you admit reluctantly, pulling out your phone again.

Beomgyu groans. “Do we have to?”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. “We don’t have a choice, Gyu. I can barely keep him up, and you’re not exactly faring much better.”

Reluctantly, Beomgyu agrees, and you call Ryujin, who answers after a few rings, sounding half-asleep but entirely too eager to hear about your predicament. After a quick explanation, she promises to be there in a few minutes.

When Ryujin arrives, she takes one look at the situation and bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, I knew you two couldn’t handle this on your own.”

“Not helping, Ryujin,” Beomgyu grumbles, though there’s a smile on his face.

Together, the three of you somehow manage to get Soobin back to his place, collapsing into a heap of laughter and exhaustion once he’s safely on his bed. By then, the humor of the situation has fully set in, and you’re all giggling uncontrollably, the night’s events replaying in your minds.

Finally, when the laughter dies down, Ryujin nudges you playfully. “So, what was that about Soobin confessing his high school crush?”

Your cheeks flush, and you try to deflect, but Ryujin is relentless, teasing you mercilessly as Beomgyu joins in. It’s all in good fun, though, and you can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, a sense of belonging that you’ve missed more than you realized.

Eventually, the night winds down, and you all head home, leaving Soobin to sleep off his hangover. As you climb into bed, you can’t help but replay the night’s events in your mind, the memory of Soobin’s confession lingering in your thoughts.

It’s been a long time since you felt this way, and despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but wonder what the future might hold.

You wake up to a dull throb in your head, the remnants of last night's drinks still pulsing behind your temples. Your room is far too bright, and you curse yourself for not closing the curtains before collapsing into bed.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already late morning, far later than you usually sleep, but considering the amount you drank last night, it’s a miracle you’re awake at all. Groggily, you swing your legs out of bed and stand, feeling the slight wobble in your knees as your body adjusts to being upright.

The house is quiet as you pad downstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your weight. The smell of coffee hits you as you enter the kitchen, and you sigh in relief. Your parents must already be up. Sure enough, you find a pot of freshly brewed coffee on the counter, a few mugs stacked neatly beside it. You pour yourself a cup, cradling it between your hands as you savor the warmth seeping into your skin.

After a few sips, you feel more human, the caffeine doing its job. Now that you’re awake and somewhat functional, you start rifling through the fridge and pantry, searching for the ingredients you need. You’ve made hangover soup enough times to know the recipe by heart, and it isn’t long before you have everything laid out on the counter.

As the soup simmers on the stove, filling the kitchen with its comforting aroma, you smile to yourself. Soobin is in for a rude awakening, but you know he’ll appreciate it in the end. With that thought in mind, you grab a spoon and taste the broth, nodding in satisfaction at the flavor.

Once the soup is done, you ladle it into a bowl, then take a deep breath and head to the house across from your own, belonging to the Choi’s. You knock lightly on the door at first, then a bit louder when you don’t hear any response. A moment later, Soobin’s mom opens the door, a surprised smile on her face.

“Y/N! What a lovely surprise,” she says warmly, stepping aside to let you in. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. How are you feeling?”

“Morning, Mrs. Choi,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m okay, just a little hungover. I figured Soobin might need this more than I do, though.”

She glances down at the bowl in your hands and chuckles. “Hangover soup? You’re such a thoughtful girl. He’s still asleep, of course, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

You step inside, the familiar scent of the house comforting in a way that makes you feel instantly at ease. “I’m going to wake him up now,” you say, feeling a little mischievous. “He’s had enough sleep.”

“Good luck with that,” Mrs. Choi says with a knowing smile. “He can be a bit grumpy in the mornings, especially after a night out.”

You grin. “I’m counting on it.”

Heading upstairs, you push open Soobin’s bedroom door with your hip, balancing the bowl in one hand. The room is dark, the curtains drawn tightly shut, and Soobin is sprawled out on his bed, completely dead to the world. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed, his hair a tousled mess. 

You set the bowl down on his nightstand, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful he looks when he’s sleeping. But only a moment. You can’t resist. Reaching out, you grab his pillow and whack him over the head with it—not too hard, but enough to jolt him awake.

He groans, a low sound of protest, but doesn’t move. So you hit him again, a little harder this time, just for good measure.

“Soobin, get up!” you say, your voice tinged with amusement. “I made you breakfast.”

He mumbles something incoherent, burying his face deeper into the pillow. You roll your eyes, leaning down to speak directly into his ear.

“Choi Soobin, if you don’t get up right now, I’m going to eat all this soup myself.”

That seems to do the trick. He slowly lifts his head, squinting at you through bleary eyes. “Y/N? What… what time is it?”

“Time for you to wake up and eat,” you reply, smirking. “Come on, I’ve got hangover soup ready. You need it.”

Soobin groans again but finally drags himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. He looks terrible—pale, with dark circles under his eyes, his hair sticking up in all directions—but you have to admit, there’s something endearing about seeing him like this. Vulnerable, almost.

“Ugh, my head is killing me,” he mutters, wincing as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you drink like a fish,” you tease, forcing him up and down the stairs. 

Once seated at the table, you pour him a bowl of soup before placing it down in front of him. “Here, this will help.”

He takes the bowl from you, staring down at it like it’s a lifeline. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, his voice thick with gratitude.

“I know,” you reply with a grin, sitting down in front of him. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”

Soobin takes a tentative sip, then another, his expression softening as the warm broth soothes his hangover. “This is really good,” he mumbles between spoonfuls.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” you say, your tone light but with an undercurrent of truth. You’ve made this soup more times than you can count, for yourself, for friends… for your ex. But you push that thought away before it can take root, focusing instead on Soobin.

As he eats, you chat idly about nothing in particular, keeping the conversation light. Soobin slowly comes back to life, the soup and your presence working their magic. He’s still a bit pale, but at least he’s awake and functional now.

Just as he’s finishing up, you hear footsteps approaching from the hallway, and a moment later, Soobin’s mom pokes her head into the room.

“How’s our patient?” she asks with a smile, looking between the two of you.

“He’s alive,” you reply, grinning at Soobin’s unamused expression. “Barely.”

Another set of footsteps sound in the hall behind as Soobin’s father suddenly appears, his face a mix of surprise and happiness as he spots his son and yourself seated at the kitchen table. Soobin’s mom has moved into the kitchen behind you now, getting started on breakfast.

“Y/N! I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” he says warmly. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Mr. Choi,” you reply, returning his smile. “Just thought I’d check on Soobin and make sure he was still alive.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing you did. He always overdoes it when he goes out with his coworkers.”

“Morning, Dad,” Soobin mumbles, reaching for a piece of toast as his mother immediately sets the plate down on the table.

“Morning, son,” Mr. Choi replies, his tone amused. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Soobin mutters, shooting you a glare when you snicker. “Don’t think it was much for for Y/N either,” he responds, an amused smirk flashing upon his lips as he swiftly avoids your kick from underneath the table.

As you all start eating breakfast, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and light teasing. You’ve always felt comfortable around Soobin’s parents—they’ve known you since you were a kid, after all—and it feels good to be here, surrounded by the warmth of family, even if it’s not your own.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Choi says at one point, turning to you with a curious expression. “How long are you planning to stay in town this time?”

You pause, the question catching you off guard. You haven’t really thought that far ahead, and the uncertainty of your answer weighs heavily on your mind.

“Um, I’m not sure yet,” you reply honestly, forcing a small smile. “I’m just taking things one day at a time.”

Mrs. Choi nods understandingly, reaching out to pat your hand. “That’s perfectly fine, dear. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched by her kindness. “That means a lot.”

The conversation shifts after that, and you’re grateful for it. As much as you appreciate the Choi family’s concern, you’re not ready to delve into the reasons behind your return just yet.

As breakfast winds down, Soobin stands up to clear the table, but you’re not about to let him off the hook that easily. When he passes by you with a stack of plates, you subtly stick your foot out, and before he realizes what’s happening, he trips, stumbling forward with a startled yelp.

He catches himself before he falls, but not without glaring at you, his eyes narrowed in mock anger. “Really?”

You flash him an innocent smile. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

His parents watch the exchange with amused smiles, clearly enjoying the banter between the two of you. “Careful, Y/N,” Mr. Choi says with a chuckle. “He might actually get you back for that one.”

You laugh, already stepping out of Soobin’s reach as he finishes clearing the table. “He can try,” you say, still grinning.

Soobin just shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but you can see the fondness in his eyes as he glances at you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” you retort, dodging under his arm as he reaches out to flick your forehead. 

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of laughter and lighthearted teasing. After breakfast, you help Soobin’s mom with the dishes, the two of you chatting about everything and nothing. Soobin joins in occasionally, but mostly, he just listens from his stance half standing and half supporting his weight on the kitchen counter, still recovering from last night’s blackout.

For a while, it feels like nothing has changed, like you’ve slipped back into the easy life you’ve always had with Soobin and his family. It’s a comforting thought, one that brings a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. And one that allows you to forget about what Soobin said last night, for just a moment.

As you finish up the last of the dishes, you glance over at Soobin, who’s lounging on the couch in the living room, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed.

“You okay over there?” you call out, drying your hands on a dish towel.

He cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy smile. “Yeah, just trying to recover from the abuse you put me through this morning.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He just grins, not even bothering to argue. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he’s right—maybe you do love this, being here with him, with his family. Maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what you needed.

The summer sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet neighborhood. You sit at the kitchen table, absently stirring a cup of tea that’s long since gone cold. The house feels still, too still, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. You’ve managed to avoid any serious conversations with your mom since you returned home, but time has eventually caught up to you. 

Your mom enters the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She glances at you, then at the untouched tea, her brow furrowing slightly. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, offering her a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

She doesn’t buy it. Of course, she doesn’t. She’s your mother, after all. She sighs, crossing the room to sit across from you, her gaze gentle but probing. “You’ve been back for weeks now, and you still haven’t told us what really happened in Seoul. You left so suddenly, without any explanation. Your father and I… we’re worried about you, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your throat tightening. You knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Mom, I just… I needed a break. Things weren’t going well, and I thought it would be good to come home for a while.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the evasiveness in your tone. “Not going well? You mean with your job? Or… was it something else?” She pauses, her voice softening further. “Y/N, was it Daehyun?”

The mention of him sends a pang through your chest, but you force yourself to stay composed. “We broke up,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s technically the truth, even if it’s not the whole story.

Your mom’s expression shifts, a mix of concern and confusion crossing her features. “You broke up? Why? I thought you two were serious. You were always talking about him, about how he was the one.”

You look down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “We were serious. But… things change, Mom. We just weren’t right for each other anymore.”

She shakes her head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “What do you mean, ‘not right for each other’? Did something happen? Did he do something?”

You shake your head quickly, too quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. We just… grew apart, I guess. It happens.”

Your mom’s eyes narrow further, the doubt clear in her gaze. “Grew apart? That doesn’t sound like a reason to just up and leave everything behind. You quit your job, Y/N. You loved that job. You loved your life in Seoul. And now you’re telling me you threw it all away because of some vague ‘growing apart’?”

“Mom, please,” you plead, your voice shaking. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

But she doesn’t relent. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Y/N. If something happened, you need to face it. You need to tell me what’s really going on.”

“I told you, we broke up!” you snap, your patience wearing thin. “I needed to get away, so I came home. That’s it.”

Your mom’s frustration finally boils over. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You broke up, so you threw your entire life away? You’re being ridiculous, Y/N! You had everything going for you—your career, your relationship—and you just walked away without a second thought?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. But you can’t take them back now, and the look of shock on your mom’s face only fuels the anger burning inside you. “You don’t understand, Mom. You don’t know what it was like.”

“Then help me understand!” she shouts back, standing up from the table. “You can’t just expect us to sit here and watch you fall apart without knowing why!”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “I didn’t fall apart,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. I’m trying to move on, and you’re not making it any easier.”

“Move on?” she scoffs. “You’re not moving on, Y/N. You’re running away, and you’re dragging us into it with you. You can’t just quit when things get tough. That’s not how life works!”

The dam finally breaks, and the tears spill over, hot and angry. “I was miserable for so long!” you cry, pushing back from the table. “You don’t know what I went through, and you never will because I can’t—” You choke on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

Your mom’s expression softens slightly, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Y/N, whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your mother. I just want to help you.”

But the anger has taken hold of you now, and you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. “I can’t! You’ll never understand what it’s like to have your whole world ripped apart by someone you thought you could trust!”

Her face pales, the realization dawning on her as she finally grasps the gravity of what you’re saying. “Y/N… what did he do to you?”

You can’t answer. The words are stuck in your throat, choking you as the pain of it all comes rushing back. You can’t tell her the truth, can’t bear to see the look of pity and disappointment in her eyes.

Without another word, you turn and bolt for the door, the need to escape overwhelming. You can hear your mom calling after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. You burst out of the house, tears blurring your vision as you run down the driveway.

And that’s when you run straight into someone, nearly knocking them over. You stumble back, wiping at your eyes to see who it is.

Soobin stands there, his expression a mix of shock and concern. He’s holding a small basket, likely something his mom sent him over with, but he’s clearly forgotten all about it as he stares at you.

“Y/N? What happened?” he asks, his voice soft, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks too loudly.

You shake your head, trying to brush past him, but he gently grabs your arm, stopping you. “Wait, just… slow down. Talk to me.”

You can’t. You can’t talk to him, can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re going to fall apart. But the gentleness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, it’s too much. You can’t hold it in any longer.

You sprint down the street, the sound of your mother’s angry words still echoing in your ears. Your vision blurs with tears as you race toward the park, the one that sits just at the edge of the neighborhood where you spent so many summers playing with Beomgyu, Soobin, and Ryujin. It feels like you’re running from more than just the fight—like you’re running from everything you’ve been trying to hold together since you came back home.

The park is quiet, almost eerily so. The swings sway gently in the evening breeze, the only movement in the otherwise still space. You stumble to a stop by the playground, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you collapse onto the sidewalk, your legs unable to carry you any farther. Hugging your knees to your chest, you finally let the tears fall, your sobs quiet but intense, the weight of everything you’ve been bottling up crashing down on you all at once.

You don’t hear him approaching, but you sense Soobin before you see him, the sound of his hurried footsteps catching your attention. He’s out of breath, clearly having run after you the moment you bolted from the house. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stops a few feet away, his eyes searching your face with a mix of concern and sadness.

“Y/N…” he starts softly, taking a cautious step closer. “Come on… What happened back there?”

You don’t answer right away, too overwhelmed to speak. But Soobin doesn’t push. He just sinks down onto the sidewalk beside you, his presence solid and steady, like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s giving you the space to find your words, to figure out what to say.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you take a shaky breath and start talking. “I left because of him,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “My boyfriend… my ex. He cheated on me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with pain and betrayal. You can feel Soobin tense beside you, his hands curling into fists on his knees. But he stays quiet, letting you continue at your own pace.

“I found out a few months ago,” you say, your voice trembling as the memories flood back. “He’d been seeing someone else for weeks, maybe longer. I don’t even know how long it was going on. I just… I couldn’t stay after that. I couldn’t be around him, or our friends, or… or anything that reminded me of him. So, I left.”

The tears come harder now, spilling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the images of him with someone else, the lies he told you, the way everything fell apart so quickly. “I quit my job because I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t do anything without thinking about him, about what he did. I felt like I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to keep going. I didn’t sleep or eat for days at a time. I wasn’t taking care of myself and… well it was either this or me going completely under. So, I ran away. I thought if I came back here, if I was with my family, I could start over. But it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.”

Your voice cracks, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying finally too much to bear. You can’t hold it together anymore. The sobs wrack your body, and you bury your face in your hands, feeling utterly broken.

Soobin doesn’t say anything, but you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close. He holds you tightly, his grip firm and reassuring as he lets you cry into his chest. His other hand rubs soothing circles on your back, his touch gentle but grounding, like he’s trying to anchor you to the present, to keep you from getting lost in the storm of your emotions.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “None of this is your fault, Y/N. You did what you had to do to survive. Don’t ever feel ashamed of that.”

You want to believe him, want to take comfort in his words, but it’s hard. The pain is still so raw, so overwhelming. But being here with Soobin, feeling his warmth, his steady presence, it helps. It makes the hurt just a little more bearable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely making it past your lips.

“What are you sorry for?” Soobin asks, his tone soft and confused.

“For everything,” you say, your voice shaking. “For not telling anyone, for shutting everyone out. For being so weak. I just didn’t want to be looked at like that girl anymore. I don’t think I can take it.”

“Hey,” Soobin says, gently tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. That’s not weakness, Y/N. That’s strength.”

His words hit you hard, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to dismiss them. He means it—he really believes you’re strong, even when you don’t believe it yourself.

You nod, swallowing hard as you try to calm your breathing, your tears finally slowing. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now. Enough to make you feel a little less alone, a little less like you’re drowning.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning into his embrace, letting yourself take comfort in his presence.

Soobin just squeezes you a little tighter, resting his chin on top of your head. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

You stay like that for a while, the two of you sitting on the sidewalk in the quiet park, the world around you fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe again, like the weight on your chest has lifted just a little.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Soobin watches you with that familiar mix of concern and fondness, his eyes soft as he takes in your expression.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks gently, nodding toward the direction of your house. “Or we can stay here for a bit longer if you need more time.”

You glance around the park, the memories of your childhood flooding back in a rush of nostalgia. This place has always been a refuge for you, a place where you felt safe. And now, with Soobin by your side, it still feels that way.

“Maybe just a little longer,” you say quietly, your voice steadier now. “I’m not ready to face her yet.”

He nods in understanding, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, the two of you sit in the fading light, side by side, the comforting silence between you speaking more than words ever could.

The weeks that follow your tearful confession in the park pass in a blur of change and acceptance. You finally muster the courage to tell your family the whole story, no longer holding back the pain and betrayal you’d been carrying alone. Your mother, after her initial shock and anger, softens as she listens to the truth of what happened in Seoul. The harsh words you exchanged that night seem distant now, replaced by an understanding that’s long overdue.

Your father, though quiet during your confession, offers you a comforting hug afterward, his voice filled with warmth as he reassures you that you’re home, and that’s what matters. Beomgyu is the easiest to talk to—his playful teasing makes it easier to break the tension, and soon, you find yourself laughing with him like old times.

Telling Ryujin is harder. You’ve always been able to rely on her, but admitting how broken you felt, even to your best friend, is difficult. But Ryujin listens without judgment, her eyes filled with the fierce loyalty you’ve always admired in her. When you finish, she wraps you in a tight hug and tells you that you’re stronger than you think, and that she’s proud of you for coming home.

As the days turn into weeks, you start to accept that Gwangcheon is where you’re going to be for a while. It’s not Seoul, but there’s a comfort in the familiar streets, the warm smiles of the people you’ve known your whole life, and the gentle pace of small-town living.

With Soobin’s help, and through one of his friends, you land a job at a good company nearby. It’s not the high-powered position you left behind in Seoul, but it’s steady work, and you find yourself gradually falling into a new routine. Your days become a mix of work, spending time with your family, and reconnecting with old friends.

The more time you spend with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu, the more you start to feel like yourself again. You laugh more easily, the pain of your past starting to dull as the present takes over. You’re still cautious, still a little guarded, but the walls you built around yourself are slowly coming down.

As summer draws to a close, Ryujin suggests a trip to a nearby beach town for a late summer getaway. It’s been a while since you’ve done something spontaneous, and the idea of a weekend away with your closest friends is too tempting to resist.

The four of you—Ryujin, Beomgyu, Soobin, and you—pile into Beomgyu’s car early one Saturday morning, the air filled with excitement as you drive toward the coast. The weather is perfect, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, and the anticipation of a carefree weekend ahead makes everything feel lighter.

When you arrive, the small beach town is bustling with tourists, the streets lined with colorful shops and restaurants. You check into a charming seaside inn, your room offering a stunning view of the ocean. The salty breeze and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore immediately put you at ease.

For the first day, you decide to hit the beach. You slip into a light, flowing sundress with thin straps that tie at your shoulders, the fabric swaying gently in the breeze. It’s a pale yellow, the color brightening your complexion.

The four of you spend the day lounging on the sand, swimming in the crystal-clear water, and playing beach volleyball. Beomgyu and Soobin are a hilarious team, their competitive streaks coming out in full force, while you and Ryujin try to keep up, laughing so hard you can barely hit the ball back.

As the sun begins to set, you take a walk along the shoreline with Soobin. The air is cooler now, and you’ve changed into a pair of denim shorts and a loose, sleeveless top that flutters in the breeze. Soobin, in his usual casual style, wears a plain white T-shirt and board shorts. The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

“I’m glad you came,” Soobin says quietly, breaking the silence. He glances at you, his expression soft in the fading light. “I’ve missed this… missed us hanging out like this.”

“Me too,” you reply, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s nice to just… be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us.”

There’s a pause, and then you both stop walking, turning to face each other. The tension between you has been growing stronger with each passing day, and it’s undeniable now. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, how his hand brushes against yours as you stand there, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Soobin…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence. You’re not sure what you want to say—what you need to say.

He looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small smile, he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel your heart racing in your chest.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady and sure. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

The moment is so charged, so full of potential, that it feels like time has stopped. You find yourself leaning into him, drawn to the comfort and warmth he offers, but before anything more can happen, Ryujin’s voice calls out from the distance, breaking the spell.

You both step back, the tension between you still thick in the air, but the moment has passed. You force a smile, trying to shake off the nerves that are buzzing under your skin.

“We should head back,” you say, your voice a little too bright. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Soobin nods, and without another word, the two of you start walking back toward the inn. But even as you rejoin Ryujin and Beomgyu, the electricity between you and Soobin doesn’t fade. Instead, it lingers, a constant undercurrent that makes your heart beat just a little faster every time your eyes meet, every time your hands brush against each other.

That night, after a dinner filled with laughter and more teasing from Beomgyu and Ryujin, you find yourself sitting on the inn’s balcony with Soobin. The others have already gone to bed, exhausted from the day’s activities, but neither of you seems ready to end the night.

The stars are bright in the clear sky, and the sound of the waves is soothing as you sit together, wrapped in a shared blanket to ward off the evening chill. You’re wearing a soft, oversized sweater, and Soobin has a hoodie on, the two of you huddled close for warmth.

For a while, you talk about everything and nothing— jobs, childhood memories, the places they’d like to visit one day. But eventually, the conversation drifts to more personal matters.

“So… what’s next for you?” Soobin asks quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Now that you’re settling in, do you have any plans?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t know the answer, but because you’re afraid to voice it. “I’m not sure,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about staying in Gwangcheon for a while, maybe longer than I originally planned. It’s… it’s starting to feel like home again.”

Soobin smiles at that, a warmth spreading through you at the sight. “I’m glad,” he says. “It’s good to have you back, Y/N. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you reply softly, your heart swelling with emotion. There’s so much more you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you lean your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath under your cheek.

Soobin’s hand finds yours under the blanket, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. The touch is comforting, grounding you in the moment. You sit like that for a long time, neither of you saying anything, just content to be close.

But as the night wears on, the tension between you becomes harder to ignore. Every time you shift slightly, your legs brushing against his, it feels like a spark of electricity zips through you. The quiet, intimate atmosphere only amplifies the connection that’s been building for weeks, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.

Finally, you turn your head to look up at him, finding him already gazing down at you. The intensity in his eyes takes your breath away, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach as you tilt your face up, waiting…

But just when it feels like something monumental is about to happen, Soobin pulls back slightly, his expression conflicted. He lets out a slow breath, breaking the moment. “We should get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

You’re disappointed, but also relieved. You may have felt something for Soobin during your youth, but you had not expected any sort of remaining spark between the two of you upon moving back. It’s a mixture of conflicting feelings: comfort, fear, desire, and enough more to dizzy you.

But even as you part for the night, there’s an unspoken understanding between you— that this moment isn’t an ending but rather just a momentary pause.

The next morning, the four of you wake early to catch the sunrise on the beach. The air is crisp and cool, the sky painted in hues of pink and gold as the sun peeks over the horizon. You feel a sense of peace, standing there with your closest friends, the tension from the night before easing into something more hopeful.

As you pack up and head home later that day, you can’t help but feel like this trip was a turning point. For the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to the future. And though you don’t know exactly where things with Soobin will go, you feel both compelled and terrified to find out. 

The weeks after your beach getaway with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu pass in a blur of cozy evenings and lingering touches. The tension between you and Soobin has become almost palpable, an undercurrent that hums beneath every interaction. You find yourself gravitating toward him, seeking out his presence in ways that feel both natural and inevitable.

It starts with late-night talks, the two of you sitting on the porch of your house or his, wrapped in blankets as the night air grows cooler. The conversations are deep, touching on everything from your childhood dreams to the fears that keep you up at night. Soobin listens with a quiet intensity that makes you feel heard in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Sometimes, when the conversation drifts to a comfortable lull, his hand will find yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin, and the simple touch sends shivers down your spine.

As fall begins to creep in, the annual town festival is the talk of Gwangcheon. It’s a tradition that dates back decades, a celebration of the harvest season with food stalls, games, and music that bring the whole town together. Despite Soobin’s protests about it being the “same old thing every year,” you manage to drag him along with you, promising that it will be fun.

“You say that every year,” Soobin grumbles as you walk through the festival grounds, his hand intertwined with yours. The evening air is crisp, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider. “But it’s just a bunch of food stalls and cheesy games.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “You’re such a grouch. Admit it, you secretly love this stuff.”

He huffs, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Maybe I just like watching you get excited about it.”

You smile, your heart warming at the admission. The truth is, you do love the festival, not just for the nostalgia it brings but because it feels like a part of your roots—a reminder of the simpler times before everything got so complicated.

The festival is in full swing by the time you arrive. Strings of warm, twinkling lights hang overhead, and the sound of laughter and music fills the air. You and Soobin wander through the crowded streets, stopping at various stalls to sample local treats and play a few games. You end up with a small plush bear from a ring toss game, a prize that Soobin wins for you after several failed attempts.

“See? Told you this would be fun,” you say, beaming as you hug the bear to your chest.

Soobin just shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his words.

As the night goes on, you run into Beomgyu and Ryujin near the center of the festival grounds, where a makeshift dance floor has been set up. The four of you spend some time chatting and catching up, reminiscing about past festivals and sharing updates on each other’s lives. The atmosphere is light and joyful, a perfect escape from the weight of everything else.

At one point, Ryujin drags you into a dance, the two of you twirling and laughing while Soobin and Beomgyu look on in amusement. It feels good to let go, to simply enjoy the moment without any worries.

Eventually, you and Soobin find yourselves walking hand in hand again, wandering away from the crowd to a quieter part of the festival. The lights are dimmer here, the sounds of the festivities fading into the background. You can feel the warmth of his hand in yours, the closeness between you more pronounced than ever.

“So… what’s the verdict?” you ask, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “Still think the festival’s boring?”

He looks down at you, his gaze softening. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” he concedes, his thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand. “But only because you’re here.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the tension between you thickening as you come to a stop. The moment feels charged, like something is about to happen, and you find yourself leaning in closer, your breath hitching as his eyes flicker to your lips.

But before either of you can move, a voice interrupts the moment, shattering the intimacy between you.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name, spoken in that familiar, deep voice, makes you freeze. You turn slowly, your heart dropping into your stomach as you see him—your ex-boyfriend, standing just a few feet away.

He looks almost the same as he did the last time you saw him, tall and handsome with that same confident aura that used to draw you in. But now, all you feel is a cold dread pooling in your chest.

“Daehyun…” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.

His eyes flick from you to Soobin, who is still holding your hand, his expression hardening as he takes in the sight. There’s a tense silence, the air between the three of you crackling with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

“So, this is why you left Seoul?” Daehyun’s voice is sharp, accusatory, as he steps closer. “To play house in some small town with your high school friend?”

Soobin stiffens beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Watch it,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous.

But Daehyun ignores him, his gaze fixed on you. “I thought we were going to work things out, Y/N. But instead, you just… ran away?”

You feel a pang of guilt, the old wounds reopening at his words. But then you remember why you left in the first place—the lies, the betrayal, the hurt he caused you. The memories flood back, and with them, a surge of anger and resolve.

“I didn’t run away, Daehyun,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I left because you fucking cheated on me! Last time I checked, you didn’t want me anyway. Why are you even here?”

Daehyun’s expression falters, the confidence slipping for a moment. But then he scoffs, shaking his head and entirely avoiding your question. “You’re really going to throw away everything we had for… this?”

Before you can respond, Soobin steps in front of you, blocking Daehyun’s view. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation,” he says, his tone firm. “So why don’t you leave her alone?”

Before you can respond, Beomgyu and Ryujin arrive, their expressions shifting from carefree to protective in an instant as they assess the situation.

“Is there a problem here?” Beomgyu’s tone is light but laced with an underlying threat as he steps up beside Soobin, crossing his arms over his chest. Ryujin moves to your other side, her presence a comforting shield as she glares at Daehyun.

Daehyun scoffs, turning his attention back to you. “You’re really going to let them speak for you now? Is this what you’ve become?”

“Leave her alone, Daehyun,” Ryujin snaps, her eyes blazing with anger. “You’re not welcome here.”

For a moment, Daehyun looks like he might argue, but the combined glares of Soobin, Beomgyu, and Ryujin seem to weigh on him. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and reluctantly takes a step back. “This isn’t worth it,” he mumbles, his gaze flickering to Soobin. “Have fun Y/N.”

With that, he finally turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving a suffocating tension in his wake. 

As soon as Daehyun is out of sight, the energy shifts. The air feels heavy, charged with everything left unsaid between you and Soobin. He stands there, his hand still resting on your shoulder, but the warmth that once comforted you now feels like a burning reminder of the distance that’s crept between you in just a few short moments.

You search his face for some kind of reassurance, something to tell you that everything is okay between you. But all you find is a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—in his eyes before he steps back, dropping his hand to his side.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible above the festival noise. He’s looking anywhere but at you, his usual confidence and ease replaced by a discomfort that twists painfully in your chest.

“Wait, Soobin, you don’t have to—” you start, reaching out to stop him, but he’s already shaking his head, taking another step back.

“I need to go,” he mutters, the words clipped and hurried. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your hand half-raised, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You watch his retreating figure, your heart pounding in your ears as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

When he disappears from sight, the weight of it all crashes down on you. Your knees feel weak, and you stumble to the nearest bench, dropping onto it as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You bury your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body as the emotions you’ve been trying so hard to keep in check burst free.

You’re so caught up in your grief that you don’t notice Ryujin and Beomgyu returning until Ryujin’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Ryujin’s voice is laced with concern as she kneels beside you, her hand rubbing gentle circles on your back.

Beomgyu stands awkwardly to the side, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a worried frown. “Y/N, you don’t have to cry over him,” he says, trying to sound comforting. “Daehyun’s not worth it.”

You shake your head, unable to find the words to correct them. They think you’re crying because of Daehyun, that seeing him brought all the pain of your breakup to the surface. But it’s not Daehyun you’re crying over—it’s Soobin. It’s the way he looked at you like he couldn’t bear to be near you, like something had shifted irreparably between you, and the way he just left without a second glance, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

But how can you explain that to them when you’re just now understanding it yourself? 

The realization hits you like a truck and you suddenly jump up, slightly unsteadily on your feet. But it’s not really a realization after all. It’s something you’ve known deep down for a while. Forever, it feels like.

The world feels like it’s spinning, your thoughts tangled in a whirlwind of panic and desperation. You can barely hear Ryujin and Beomgyu’s voices through the haze of your own mind, their concerned words just background noise to the single, overwhelming thought that suddenly consumes you.

You need to find Soobin.

The tears are still streaming down your face, but you don’t care. The only thing that matters right now is reaching him, before this suffocating tension between you turns into an unbearable distance.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Ryujin calls after you, but you’re already running, your heart pounding in time with your frantic footsteps. 

You don’t answer her, your feet moving faster than your thoughts. You’re driven by pure instinct, by the gnawing need to fix this before it’s too late. Before you lose him.

His house isn’t far—it never has been—and it’s that familiarity that drives you faster. The image of his retreating back is burned into your mind, propelling you forward through the dimly lit streets of the neighborhood. The sound of your breath is loud in your ears, mingling with the rapid beat of your heart as you round the final corner and see his house come into view.

His house is dark except for the porch light, and a flicker of doubt crosses your mind. What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he won’t even open the door? But you can’t stop now, not when you’re so close. You run up to the door, and without hesitation, you start banging on it with all your strength.

“Soobin!” Your voice cracks as you call out his name, your fists pounding against the wood, the desperation in your voice echoing through the quiet night. “Soobin, please, open the door!”

For a moment, nothing happens, and your heart sinks with each second that passes. But then, you hear the sound of footsteps inside, followed by the slow creak of the door opening.

When Soobin’s face comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. He looks surprised, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. His gaze immediately locks onto your tear-streaked face, and the shock deepens.

“Y/N?” He frowns, his eyes flicking over your smudged makeup and tear-stained cheeks. “What are you—are you okay? Did… did he do something else? I thought he left.”

His voice is soft, laced with worry, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re fragile, like you might break at any moment—only makes the tears well up in your eyes again. But it’s not because of Daehyun. It’s because of him.

You shake your head, trying to find the words, but they all come out in a frantic rush, jumbled together with your raw emotions. “No, it’s not—it’s not Daehyun, Soobin. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your words, but you don’t give him a chance to respond. The words pour out of you, all the things you’ve been holding back for so long, spilling over in your desperation to make him understand.

“I don’t care about Daehyun,” you continue, your voice trembling with the force of your feelings. “I never did, not the way I care about you. I dated him because I was trying to get away from these feelings, because I was scared of how much I liked you, because I thought… I thought maybe if I was with someone else, it would go away. But it didn’t. I just made everything worse.”

Soobin’s expression shifts from confusion to something softer, something that almost breaks your heart all over again. He opens his mouth to say something, but you’re not done yet.

“I thought I could just… run away from it, from you, by moving to Seoul, by throwing myself into a relationship that I didn’t even really want, but it was all a lie. Everything with Daehyun was just a distraction, a way to pretend like I didn’t want to be with you. But I did. I do.” You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally say the words that have been eating away at you for so long. “Soobin, I like you. I like you so much it hurts, and I’ve been pretending that I don’t for so long that I almost convinced myself it was true.”

There’s a silence that follows your confession, the kind that feels like it stretches on for an eternity. You can’t bear to look at him, to see the rejection you’re sure is coming, but you can’t look away either. 

Soobin doesn’t speak right away, his eyes searching your face, and you wonder if you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. The silence between you is thick with tension, every second that passes weighing heavily on your chest.

Finally, he reaches out, his hand hesitating just inches from your cheek. When he finally cups your face, his touch is so gentle that it sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and when he speaks, his voice is soft, almost disbelieving. “You… like me?”

You nod, unable to find your voice, your heart beating so loudly that you’re sure he can hear it.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable, and you brace yourself for the worst. But then, slowly, a small, almost tentative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You idiot,” he murmurs, his tone affectionate, even as his words make your breath hitch. “You really thought I wouldn’t feel the same?”

Before you can even process what he’s saying, he’s pulling you inside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet click. The next thing you know, his hands are framing your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter.

Then, without another word, he’s kissing you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. The kiss is desperate, hungry, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have. His lips move against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, as if he can’t get enough.

You respond with equal intensity, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. Every pent-up emotion, every unspoken word, every lingering touch that you’ve shared over the years is poured into this kiss, and it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepens the kiss, his lips and tongue exploring yours with a desperation that mirrors your own. It’s like everything else fades away—Daehyun, the fight with your mom, all the pain and confusion you’ve been carrying with you. All that matters is Soobin, his touch, his warmth, the way he’s holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

Soobin doesn't waste any time. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together as he pulls you deeper into the house, the intensity between you building with every step. His other hand never leaves your waist, his thumb brushing back and forth in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounds in your chest as he leads you through the familiar hallway, your breaths coming faster with each second. The anticipation crackles between you, a living thing that makes your skin tingle and your pulse race. His grip on your hand tightens when you reach his room, and without breaking the kiss, he pushes the door open, guiding you inside.

The moment the door shuts behind you, his lips are on yours again, more desperate this time, as if he can't bear to be apart from you for even a second. He walks you backward toward the bed, his hands sliding from your waist up to your shoulders, then back down to your hips, pulling you closer until you're pressed against him.

Your back hits the edge of the bed, and he nudges you down onto it, his hands cupping your face as he hovers over you. His kiss is relentless, stealing your breath away as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours with just enough weight to make you feel grounded in this moment.

You respond eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you arch up into him. Every touch, every kiss, is like a spark of electricity, igniting something deep within you. His lips trail down to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he presses soft, lingering kisses there. Each touch makes you melt further into the bed, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath your fingertips.

Soobin's breath hitches as you slide your hands up under his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his toned body. He pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips find yours again, his kiss more heated, more urgent than before. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your toes curl, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he's been waiting for this moment forever.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he touches you, the way he whispers your name against your lips like a prayer. The world outside his room fades away until it's just the two of you, tangled together in a mess of sheets and emotions. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a confession, an unspoken promise that this is just the beginning of something more.

“No more running,” he murmurs against the crown of your head, breathing in your scent he only could dream of being able to fully take in.

A smile curves its way onto your lips and you smile against his gentle touch, nodding as though there was not a single better thing he could suggest. Because there is nothing you would rather do than stay right here, the very place where a piece of you has always been and where you’ve always belonged.

thank you for reading! <3