littlejoyss

[littlejoyss]

300 followers! Thank you guys so much!! Mwah 💋🩷

[littlejoyss]

More soulmate au yess

Also WELCOME BAACK, HOPE LIFE HASNT BEEN TOO HECTIC AND THAT YOU'RE DOING OKAY

I'm gonna save the fic for tommorow as im headed to sleep soon but first thing in the morning, im gonna read it.

Have a great day!

-🖌

Sadly, life has been hectic 😭 August ended up being the busiest month of my summer when I thought it would be my relaxing month LOL. But overall I'm doing pretty good! I've mostly been working on school now

Hope it's a good read :))

-Deedee

[littlejoyss]

feeling part 1

“One single thread of gold tied me to you.”

Stray Kids - Lee Know x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count (for now): 3k

current part -> next part(coming soon) | masterlist

Summary: Minho didn’t want a soulmate. Or more accurately, he didn’t think he deserved one. But when Soonie gets sick, he ends up rushing to the local vet clinic in the middle of the night. (Y/N) is the on-call vet tech. The second she sees Minho as he hands Soonie over, the golden thread between them flares so bright it nearly blinds her. The more Minho comes in to check on Soonie, the more cracks form in his walls. And soon, it’s not about the cat anymore. (TRIGGER WARNINGS: Close to death animal :( )

[NOTE: This is the fourth installment in my Soulmates Series. HOWEVER, this story can be completely read as a stand-alone (and is written to be). Don't worry, if this is your first time here, you won't miss any important lore :) ]

Once everyone turned eighteen, a golden thread appeared tied around their pinky. Most people discovered it at dawn, just as the first light spilled over the horizon, when the string is most visible to the owner.

The string shimmered like a captured sunrise. It never tangled and it never dulled. Where the old tales spoke of a red cord, rough and knotted with destiny, this was liquid gold. From the moment it appeared, society revolved around it.

Golden‑mornings. Families gathered for a ceremonial breakfast, slicing warm honey‑cake to celebrate the new thread‑bearer. There was always an extra place set at the table for the unseen soulmate at the string’s far end.

Length‑measuring. Thrumming with nerves, the newly bound stretched their hands skyward, guiding the filament between thumb and forefinger to gauge its reach. Long meant distant, sometimes oceans away, and short could indicate a lover already in the same room.

The First Pull. Sometime within that first year, the thread would tighten and tug. Legends claimed that if you followed the pull immediately, no power on earth could keep you from meeting your counterpart before nightfall. Most people waited for many reasons, but the bold few who obeyed the first pull were said to find love. 

You remember your Golden Morning. You had come home from college to celebrate with your family. It was tradition, the Golden Morning was meant to be shared, like a birthday or an anniversary, a moment sacred enough that even your perpetually busy parents made time to sit at the kitchen table together.

The house smelled like honey and cinnamon, the oven humming with warmth as your grandmother prepared the ceremonial breakfast. On the table, there were two mugs of tea and a plate of sliced fruit, plus one extra mug and an empty seat for them. Your soulmate. You weren’t sure why the thought made your stomach twist.

“Sweetheart, come here,” your mother called softly.

You padded into the kitchen, your bare feet cool against the tiles. The first rays of sunlight filtered in through the lace curtains, turning the golden thread around your left pinky into molten fire. It glowed faintly in the dim light, quivering ever so slightly, as if testing its strength.

Your breath caught. “It’s… beautiful,” you murmured, lifting your hand to watch it shimmer. The thread didn’t stretch far, only to the window before it fell limp. You pointed to where it stopped.

Your grandmother came to your side, her hands warm and gentle on your shoulders. “Ah… a short one.”

You glanced at her. “Is that… bad?”

She shook her head, smiling faintly. “No, no. Short threads only mean your soulmate is close. A few towns over. A country. But not across oceans.”

“They’ll find me eventually, though,” you said quietly, more a question than a statement.

“Of course,” your mother reassured you, sliding a steaming slice of honey-cake onto your plate. “When the time is right.”

You nodded and took your seat, staring down at the golden filament. It hummed faintly under your touch, alive somehow, like it was breathing. By midday, the glow had faded into a soft, steady line. You found yourself tugging gently at it when no one was looking, as if testing the connection. There was no pull yet. No tug to tell you to go. Now. And so, like most people, you waited.

But as the years slipped by, graduation, job applications, and long nights at the clinic, you stopped staring at it so often. The thread never dulled, but it never pulled either. You began to wonder if maybe yours wasn’t one of those miraculous first-pull stories. Maybe your soulmate had seen it too and… chosen not to follow. You brushed your thumb over the thread as you closed up the clinic late one night, years later. It still thrummed faintly under your touch. Warm. Waiting. “Guess you’re not ready yet either,” you murmured under your breath, setting the lights to night mode.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Mornings at the clinic always smelled faintly of antiseptic and chamomile tea. The kind of place that felt alive, not loud or chaotic like a hospital, but softly pulsing.

You arrived before sunrise, as usual, unlocking the front door with one hand while balancing a cardboard tray of coffee in the other. The golden thread curled lazily at your pinky as you pushed through, its faint glow barely noticeable anymore in the wash of fluorescent light.

“Morning, Hana,” you called toward the back.

Your boss, Hana, a petite woman with an intimidating energy that belied her size, poked her head out of the supply room. “You’re early again.”

“Habit,” you said with a shrug, setting down your coffee and pulling your hair into a messy bun. “And I had to bribe the coffee gods to keep the equipment from breaking down today.”

By the time the first patients arrived, you’d already gone through most of your checklist. Files organized. Medications prepped. Rooms sanitized. It was comforting, the rhythm of it. Check vitals. Log data. Offer soft words and scratches under chins. You loved watching the way nervous owners melted when they saw how gently you handled their companions. You were good at this. 

Around noon, you found yourself alone in the exam room between appointments, wiping down the counter. Your pinky brushed the golden thread where it rested on the edge of the counter. It thrummed faintly under your touch. “You’ve been quiet lately,” you murmured without thinking. The thread didn’t respond, not that it ever did, but the silence felt heavier today.

Hana came in, holding a clipboard. “You’re next patient is Jagiya. The Golden Retriever. Bora Kwon’s dog.”

“Ah, yes, I remember her.” You set the rag down and glanced at Hana. “Sweet girl. Arthritis, right? Bora’s been worried about her hips.”

Hana nodded, scanning the clipboard. “And she asked for you specifically. Said Jagiya doesn’t let anyone else touch her nails anymore.” A faint smirk tugged at her lips. “You’ve got a fan club, apparently. Two-legged and four-legged.”

You snorted, tugging your gloves off with a snap. “I prefer four-legged fan clubs.”

Jagiya’s appointment went smoothly. Her tail thumped wildly on the table while you trimmed her nails, murmuring reassurances in a soft voice that made Bora smile and clutch her phone to her chest like she was witnessing magic. “See, Jagiya? You’re being so brave. She’s your favorite, huh?” Bora cooed.

You laughed and scratched behind the golden’s ear. “She’s the best girl. Aren’t you?”

By the time Bora left, clutching Jagiya’s leash in one hand and a little bag of supplements in the other, the afternoon rush was in full swing. A parade of pets, cats in carriers with wide, wary eyes, puppies squirming with unspent energy, and an elderly rabbit whose owner insisted on calling him “Sir Hopsalot” with deadly seriousness. It was good. Busy kept you from thinking too much. 

It wasn’t until the sun had long set, the clinic was empty and quiet, that the thread tugged. Not hard. Not the sudden, breath-stealing pull you’d heard about in those old legends. But a faint nudge. Like someone gently testing the line from the other side. You froze where you stood at the front desk, fingers tightening on the edge. The golden thread glimmered faintly in the low light, curling toward the door.  Your heart stuttered. It’s probably nothing, you told yourself. Probably just your imagination. The first pull never came at night…at least, not that you’d heard.

But as you turned back toward the supply room to finish stocking, the front desk phone rang. You snatched it up. “Hello? This is-”

“Are you the vet?” The voice on the other end was low, tight with urgency. 

“...This is Summit Veterinary Center. Yes.”

“It’s my cat. He’s… he’s not breathing right. I think-” The words cracked, and he cleared his throat roughly. “I need help. Please.”

“Okay. Okay, it’s alright. Can you get here? We’re still open for emergencies.”

“I’m already outside.”

You froze. Outside. The thread on your pinky thrummed so hard it almost burned, the golden glow intensifying like liquid fire in the dim clinic lights. Your stomach flipped. Slowly, mechanically, you turned your head toward the glass doors at the front of the clinic. A tall figure stood there, framed by the faint light of the streetlamps. His head was bent over a carrier clutched tightly in his arms, shoulders hunched like he was trying to fold himself smaller. A cap pulled low shadowed his face, but even from this distance, you could see his grip trembling slightly.

The golden thread from your pinky reached for him, taut and shining so bright it almost hurt to look at.

You felt your breath catch. “I’ll…I’ll unlock the door,” you said quickly into the phone, hanging up before he could respond. Your feet carried you forward before you even realized you were moving, fingers fumbling at the lock as your heart thundered in your chest.

When the door finally clicked open, the man lifted his head, and you forgot how to breathe. Lee Minho. The Idol. A name you’d heard in passing, your coworkers playing Stray Kids in the back, clients humming along under their breath, even Hana once making a passing comment about his dance videos online. But you’d never connected him with the faint tug at your finger. You’d never thought the boy on the other end of your thread could be someone like him.

“Please,” he said, voice rawer now without the phone buffering it. His dark eyes darted down to the carrier. “It’s Soonie. He’s… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Come in,” you said, stepping back quickly to let him inside. The golden thread vibrated violently as he brushed past you, almost sparking in the space between your hands.

Minho didn’t seem to notice it. Or maybe he did and was ignoring it, his entire focus locked on the carrier as he set it gently on the exam table. “He was fine earlier, but now he’s making these noises…” His voice cracked. “Like he can’t catch his breath.”

“Okay,” you said softly, moving to the table with practiced calm, even though your own heart was beating out of your chest. “We’ll take care of him. He’s safe.” 

Minho’s shoulders trembled as he stepped back, his eyes fixed on Soonie’s small body inside the carrier. You reached for Soonie with steady hands, though the thread between your pinkies hummed so violently it felt like it might snap. The golden glow pulsed in your peripheral vision like a heartbeat, his heartbeat, but you forced yourself to focus on the tiny rise and fall of the cat’s chest instead. “Okay, Soonie. Let’s get you out of there, sweetheart.” Your voice was soft, the same tone you used for anxious animals and even more anxious owners. Carefully, you slid the door of the carrier open and reached inside, feeling the faint tremor of Minho’s gaze locked on your every move.

Soonie let out a small, raspy wheeze. The sound made Minho flinch visibly.

“It’s okay,” you murmured again, more for Minho than for the cat. Your fingers brushed over Soonie’s fur as you lifted him free, cradling his fragile weight in your arms. His sides heaved unevenly, and the faint crackle of fluid in his lungs confirmed your worst suspicion. You didn’t let it show.

“Can you stay here for a moment?” you asked gently, already moving toward the back with Soonie pressed to your chest.

Minho’s jaw flexed, his eyes dark and unreadable beneath the brim of his cap. “Is he going to be okay?”

“We’ll do everything we can,” you promised. Then, softer, “He’s in good hands.” The golden thread flared as you turned away, curling faintly toward him like it didn’t want to let go.

In the treatment room, Hana looked up from her paperwork as you pushed through the door. One glance at Soonie in your arm, and she was on her feet. “What’ve we got?”

“Respiratory distress. Crackles in both lungs. Could be pneumonia,” you said briskly, laying Soonie down on the heated pad. “We need oxygen and a chest X-ray.”

Hana was already moving. “On it.”

As you slipped the oxygen mask gently over Soonie’s tiny face, you felt the thread still thrumming insistently, as though aware the other end was pacing in the waiting room.

“He’s stable for now,” you said softly to Soonie, stroking his head. “You’re okay, baby boy.”

The X-rays confirmed it. Pneumonia. His lungs were clouded and inflamed. Your stomach twisted. No wonder Minho had sounded so panicked. Pneumonia can turn for the worse fast in cats. “We’ll start him on antibiotics and keep him overnight,” Hana said, jotting down notes. “Poor guy probably aspirated something.”

You nodded, already preparing the meds. But your mind wasn’t on the syringe. It was on the golden thread, still glowing faintly as it snaked out the door and into the waiting room. Minho.

When Soonie was settled in a small oxygen chamber, you took a deep breath, smoothing your hands down your scrubs to steady yourself. Then you stepped back out into the exam room again. Minho was standing exactly where you’d left him, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. The cap shadowed his face, but you could see the tension written in every line of his body. His head snapped up as you approached. “How is he?” he asked immediately, voice raw.

You gave a small smile, keeping your tone calm. “He’s stable now. It looks like pneumonia, but we caught it early. He’s on oxygen and antibiotics. He’ll need to stay overnight for monitoring.”

Minho exhaled shakily, one hand lifting to grip the brim of his cap. “Pneumonia,” he repeated softly, like the word hurt to say.

You nodded. “It’s scary, I know. But he’s a strong boy. And you brought him in quickly. That makes a huge difference.”

There was a long pause. His dark eyes searched your face, something unreadable flickering in their depths. Then his gaze dropped to your left hand. The golden thread shimmered faintly in the clinic light, pulled taut between you like it couldn’t bear the space. Minho’s lips parted slightly. But he said nothing. Neither did you.

Finally, you cleared your throat. “You can sit with him for a while if you want.”

His shoulders softened slightly, though his expression stayed guarded. “Yeah. I’d… like that.”

As you turned to lead him toward the treatment room, the thread tugged faintly at your pinky.

General Taglist: @moonlitcelestial @akindaflora @beppybeesnuggets @rylea08 @yxna-bliss @felixsonlyrealwife @wolfs-howling @velvetmoonlght @rougegenshin @ilovvesleepp @qwonyoung23 @imagine-all-the-imagines @hhwangsmoon @hanniesbubuwife

Soulmate Series Taglist: @eridanuswave @dlizzzy @allenajade-ite @crazy4books1 @i-am-fork @btch8008s @offl-ine @robinnotgood24 @hwangrfrnd @natvlad93 @beal-o @i-bitch-you-bitch @16lotonhermind

[littlejoyss]

Guys I'm not dead I swear life is just crazy

[littlejoyss]

KARMA RELEASE DAY!! I'm going to a Barnes & Noble pop-up near me!

Also I did the STAYdium thing and look who I got...hehe

[littlejoyss]

Hellooow,

A shorter one this time. Yes i do also know the soulmate series(im the same anon as the one that said break a leg for your semester start^^.) Aka im a big fan of your writing and writing style 🥰

Would me having a specific tag as anon help? I could pick an emoji? Maybe a paintbrush xause hyunjin? Or a heart for soulmates(or a lock) you tell me what you prefer. 😊

Looking forward to your next piece, whatever you choose to write. I know im gonna enjoy it ❤️

Yes! I love this idea.

I assign you...*pulls sorting hat out* Paint brush! 🖌️

[littlejoyss]

OMG MORE MANCHILD. I LOVE LOVE LOOOVED CHAPTER 2. IM WITH FELIX THOUGH, THESE 2 DUMB IDIOTS DEEPLY IN LOVE BUT CANT SEE IT TILL IT HITS THEM IN THE FACE!! AND THEN THE KISS AND THE SOFTNESS AND HYUNJIN BEING FLUSTERED GAH!!

Okay, serious now. Thank you for writing a part 2. I know you were hesitant about it. I hope you continue the story of these two idiots cause they are honestly the embodiment of 'adorkable' and I just...want to read more about them

Your writing style matches the soft aesthetic they have perfectly! Also, you made a note about tall queens?! Mwah! Love you so much for that. As a taller girly(5'9) when the guys need to lean DOOOWN to kiss her, it kills my immersion so thanks for including that!

The way you write Hyunjin in manchild is a version of him I just want to snuggle and watch movies with(analysing as we go of course) so thanks again

Hope you continue manchild but if ch 2 was the end, then im happy you gave it a part 2

Have a great week!!! Looking forward to see what you'll write next!

UGHHH I LOVE LONG RESPONSES 💕

Yeah, if you think about it this whole thing wouldn't have happened if Felix wasn't secretly trying to set up two friends. Felix invited MC to the party sophomore year, invited her to the camping trip the next year, and again to another party. He is the real hero in this story!

I love these two as well! I'll see if my brain juices can think of what to write for another part. I'm still writing my Soulmate Series, (if you haven't read it, go check it out 😉) and school is coming up, so we'll see. I'll jot down any ideas I get randomly like I usually do!

I'm also a tallish girl (5'7, 5'8 on a good day) and I feel the same. Like technically Hyunjin is still taller than me, but he shouldn't have to crack his neck to kiss me!

Thank you so much! I've worked VERY hard on my writing style. Apparently I'm related to Jane Austen so maybe that's why I'm able to write softly, LOL.

Thank you so much for the support! I hope I can continue to deliver! ❤️

[littlejoyss]

Manchild Part 2

Stray Kids - Hwang Hyunjin x Reader 

College AU | Enemies to Lovers (More situationship to lovers in this part)

Word Count: 9k 

part 1 here! [A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who helped give me ideas in the comments and inbox! Here is the highly requested part two!]

The class the day after felt like stepping into enemy territory with no armor. You were early, too early. The lecture hall was mostly empty, the hum of the projector the only sound. You slid into your usual seat and immediately regretted it. Because his seat was behind you. Always behind you. That had been the unspoken rule since sophomore year. He is close enough to tease you, not close enough to touch.

You were halfway through pulling out your notebook when a shadow fell over your desk. “Morning, princess.”

Your head snapped up. Hyunjin. Too close. Too smug. Except…he wasn’t moving to the row behind you. He dropped his bag right next to yours and slid into the seat beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “What are you doing?” you hissed.

He raised a brow, leaning back casually. “Sitting.”

“In my row.”

“Pretty sure it’s the first row, actually.” He shot you a sideways glance, and for once, there was no teasing spark, no lazy smirk. Just something quiet. Steady. “Relax. I just wanted to sit next to you.”

“You always sit behind me.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, eyes flicking to yours, “and look how well that worked out.”

Your breath caught. You wanted to argue, to tell him to move, to shove the world back into the safe, predictable order it had always been in. But then his knee brushed yours under the desk, the barest touch, and all your carefully built walls cracked just a little more.

He tilted his head, that soft, dangerous smile curving his lips, the one that wasn’t about winning or teasing but about something deeper. “Don’t run this time,” he murmured, so quiet you barely heard it over the sound of students filing in. Your heart slammed against your ribs. Damn, you were very embarrassed about all the running you did at the camp. 

When the professor’s voice cut through the room, Hyunjin didn’t shift away. He didn’t go back to his usual spot. He sat beside you the whole lecture, his arm brushing yours every time he wrote, the warmth of him bleeding into your skin like a secret no one else could see. And you realized, with a terrifying clarity, that nothing was going back to the way it was. Not after the trip. Not after everything.

—

When the lecture finally ended, you shoved your notebook into your bag with a little more force than necessary. You could feel him watching you, that stillness in his eyes that always meant he was about to say something that would knock the air out of you. “Hey.”

You froze halfway through zipping your bag. “What?”

“Study session?”

“What?”

Hyunjin slung his bag over his shoulder, his voice maddeningly casual. “At the café down the street. We’ve got that exam coming up, right? And I…” He paused, his lips twitching like he almost smiled, then didn’t. “I thought we could help each other.”

You stared at him, heart thudding way too loud in your ears. “You want to study. With me.”

“Yeah.” His gaze held yours, steady but soft. “With you.”

You should have said no. You should have shut this down before it spiraled any further. But the word didn’t come. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your voice barely above a whisper. “Fine.”

The grin that spread across his face wasn’t smug this time. It was softer. Real. “Cool. Let’s go, princess.”

He waited until you stood, falling into step beside you like it was already natural. Too natural.  At the café, the soft clink of cups and the low hum of music wrapped around you both as you slid into a corner booth. He dropped his bag on the seat beside him and stretched out like he owned the place, then glanced at you, head tilted. “What do you want? I’ll pay.”

You blinked. “You? Pay? Did I hit my head on the way here?”

Hyunjin’s lips curved. “Wow. Insulting the guy offering free coffee. Bold move.”

“You never offer free anything. You’re literally the most selfish person I know.”

He leaned across the table slightly, eyes glinting. “Except when it comes to you.”

Your pulse jumped. “Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?”

His smirk deepened, but there was something softer hiding under it. “Means if it’s you, I don’t mind giving. Coffee. Time. My last nerve.” His gaze flicked briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Pretty much anything, really.”

Your breath caught hard enough to make you forget how to speak. “You-”

“Mm?” He tilted his head, the picture of feigned innocence, but his thumb was already idly tracing the edge of the table like he needed to keep his hands busy. “Coffee order, princess. Or do I have to guess?”

You forced your voice to work, trying desperately to ignore the heat crawling up your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah.” His grin turned downright wicked as he straightened up. “But you like me that way.”

You were absolutely mortified to feel your heart agree. You were about three seconds from melting into the booth when he slid out of his seat, stretching lazily. “Sit tight. I’ll grab the drinks.”

And then he was gone, leaving you sitting there with your pulse thundering and your face burning. You buried your face in your hands. Oh. My. God. Hwang Hyunjin had just flirted with you. Not in the “we bicker so it counts as flirting” way you’d been stuck in for years. Real flirting. With him leaning in close and saying things that made your stomach drop, and you actually liked it. You groaned quietly, dropping your hands to the table. You were doomed. Utterly, completely doomed.

You peeked through your fingers just in time to see him at the counter, hair falling into his eyes as he leaned his elbow against the register. The barista said something that made him laugh, low and easy, and you immediately hated her. He glanced back at you mid-laugh, like he felt you watching him. And then, God help you, he winked.

You nearly slid under the table and died on the spot. Your hands flew to your notebook, pretending to flip through notes like you weren’t just having a complete cardiac event in a corner booth over a boy who had spent the last two years making your life a living hell. Except now it wasn’t hell. Now it was…something else. Dare you say heaven?

You were still trying to get your heartbeat under control when his shadow fell over the table again. “One vanilla latte,” he said smoothly, sliding it in front of you before sitting back down with his own drink.

You grabbed the cup purely so you had something to hold that wasn’t the table to keep from shaking. “Thanks,” you muttered.

He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes never leaving yours over the rim. “You’re welcome.” God, his voice. Why did his voice suddenly sound like that?

You broke eye contact immediately, staring at your cup like it held the secrets of the universe. Maybe if you focused hard enough, you could forget that he’d just looked at you like you were the only person in the café. Or the world. Hyunjin leaned back, casual as ever, but his knee brushed yours again under the table. This time it didn’t feel like an accident. “Relax, princess,” he murmured, soft enough to make your pulse spike again. “It’s just coffee. Not a date.”

Your head snapped up before you could stop yourself. “Who said anything about a date?”

His smile was slow, deliberate. “I just made you say it.”

You groaned and dropped your head into your hands again. “Let's just…study.”

Hyunjin chuckled under his breath, the sound warm and infuriatingly smug. “Sure. Study.” He flipped open his notebook like he hadn’t just set off a nuclear bomb in the middle of your chest.

You tried to focus on your notes, on anything other than the fact that your knee was still pressed against his under the table, neither of you moving away. Every time you shifted in your seat, the faintest brush of his leg against yours sent sparks racing up your spine.

For twenty minutes, you managed to keep it together. Barely. He was actually quiet, which was more unnerving than all the teasing combined. Every so often, you’d catch him glancing at you over the edge of his paper, and every single time, your heart tried to claw its way out of your ribcage.

“Okay,” you said finally, slamming your pen down and leaning back. “I can’t do this.”

“What, study?”

“Sit here like you’re not-” You snapped your mouth shut so fast you bit your tongue.

His lips curved slowly, dangerously. “Like I’m not what?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, staring at the wall.

“Like I’m not what, princess?” 

“Annoying. Like you’re not annoying.”

“Mm.” His grin was wicked, but his voice was soft. “That’s not what you were gonna say.”

Your brain screamed abort mission, abort mission, but your mouth had apparently decided mutiny was the way to go. “Maybe it wasn’t.”

“What were you going to say?”

“...I can’t sit here like you’re not totally checking me out.”

Hyunjin froze mid-turn of his pen, and for the first time all afternoon, the smirk on his face completely vanished. His eyes flicked to yours, slow and deliberate, and something in your stomach dropped straight through the floor. “...Totally checking you out?” His voice was lower now, like you’d just flipped some switch you didn’t know existed.

You regretted every life choice that led you to this moment. “Forget it.”

“No.” He leaned in, his notebook forgotten, his knee pressing more firmly against yours until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. “You think I’m checking you out?”

Your brain had completely short-circuited. “I don’t know, you keep…looking at me like that.”

“Like you’re the only thing in the room? Because that would be accurate.”

“What?”

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to tease but couldn’t quite manage it. “You caught me, princess. I’ve been checking you out. For a while.” His voice dropped to a murmur, so soft it was almost lost under the hum of the café. “Can’t really help it.”

Your pulse was a war drum in your ears. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His knee brushed yours again, no, not brushed. Stayed. Pressed there, solid and deliberate. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

After around thirty seconds, he smiled, just a little, and leaned back like he hadn’t just wrecked your entire nervous system in under two minutes. “That’s what I thought.” He flipped his pen between his fingers again, his voice maddeningly casual now. “Number six, princess. Don’t get distracted.”

You stared at him, absolutely reeling, and Hyunjin didn’t even look up from his notes. But you could see the faint curve of his lips, and you knew. He knew exactly what he’d just done to you. You didn’t make it through two more problems before your brain completely shorted out. Every number on the page blurred, every line of text turned into some kind of code your eyes refused to translate. The only thing you could register was the heat of his knee against yours and the fact that every time he moved his pen, his sleeve brushed the table in rhythm with your pulse.

Finally, mercifully, he dropped his pen and leaned back with a low sigh. “Alright. That’s enough studying for one day.”

You blinked at him. “We didn’t even finish.”

“We’ll ace it.” His grin was lazy but sharp, like he knew exactly how off-balance you were. “You’re smart. I’m…me. We’ve got this.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved your notebook into your bag just to have something to do with your hands. “Well, thanks for the coffee, I guess.”

Hyunjin didn’t move. His arm rested along the back of the booth, casual like it was an accident, but his fingers drummed once against the cushion right behind your shoulders. “Hey,” he said suddenly, softer than you expected. “You wanna come to my place?”

Your brain promptly exploded. “What?”

He tilted his head, and that little almost-smile ghosted across his lips. “My place. You know. Four walls, a roof. Might even have snacks if you’re lucky.” His voice stayed casual, but his eyes never left yours.

“Why?”

“Because.” His grin turned softer, more dangerous. “I’m not ready to stop hanging out with you yet.”

Your heart performed an Olympic-level somersault. “Hyunjin-”

He cut you off, “Think it over.” He slid out of the booth before you could answer, stretching lazily like this was nothing. “I’m gonna hit the restroom. Don’t run away.”

As soon as he disappeared around the corner, you yanked your phone out so fast you almost dropped it. Your thumbs flew over the screen before your brain even caught up.

You: Felix. Emergency. Massive. Code red. You: He just asked me to come to his place. WHAT DO I DO??? You: Felix I’m sweating. This is illegal. Help.

You stared at the screen, heart hammering, waiting for the little typing dots to save your life. Finally, they came.

Felix: The fact that I know who you’re talking about without you saying his name alone says you should go.

You: Lix. That is NOT helpful. I’m literally having a heart attack. CPR me through text.

Felix: You’re fine. Breathe. You like him.

You: I do NOT. You: ...maybe a little. You: okay a lot. but STILL.

Felix: Then go. Worst case scenario? You talk more about school. Boring. Best case? …not gonna say it because you’ll combust.

You: You’re evil. I hate you.

Felix: You love me. Now put the phone down and pay attention to your man!

You froze, lifting your head just in time to see Hyunjin reappear from the corner, running a hand through his hair, looking unfairly good for someone who just came out of a public restroom. Your phone slipped out of your hands and clattered softly onto the table.

He slid back into the booth, eyes immediately flicking to you. “You look like you just got some life-altering news,” he said lightly, reaching for his drink.

Your voice wobbled. “Something like that.”

His smile was easy, but there was a glint in his eye you couldn’t quite read. “So,” he said, resting his chin in his hand. “What’s the verdict? My place? Or are you gonna run again?”

You swallowed hard. “...What kind of snacks?”

Hyunjin’s grin spread slowly and deliberately, like he’d just won a game you didn’t even realize you were playing. “Guess you’ll have to come find out.”

—

The dorm building was familiar, same beige walls and a faint smell of laundry detergent and cheap takeout. But following him up the narrow stairs and down the hall made it feel like stepping into unknown territory.

He stopped at the last door on the left, jingling his keys lazily before sliding one into the lock. “Welcome to Casa de Hyunjin,” he said with a little flourish, pushing the door open and stepping aside so you could go in first.

You hesitated, your stomach twisting, then stepped inside. It was…him. Not messy, not exactly neat. Sketchbooks stacked on the desk. A half-finished canvas was propped against the wall with smudges of paint on the floor beneath it. A string of fairy lights was draped haphazardly across the window frame. And his jacket slung over the back of a chair like he’d dropped it there without thinking.

You stood frozen in the doorway, suddenly hyper-aware that you were in his space. Hyunjin’s space. He kicked off his shoes and brushed past you, dropping his bag onto the couch. “You can sit, you know. I don’t bite.” Then he shot you a grin over his shoulder. “Unless you want me to.”

“Hyunjin!”

He laughed, low and easy, and padded into the kitchenette. “Relax, princess. Snacks, remember?” You heard the fridge door open and the rustle of a bag. “We’ve got…chips. And…instant ramen. Classic college cuisine.”

You finally moved to the couch, perched on the edge like it might swallow you whole. The faint smell of paint mixed with his cologne clung to the air. He wandered back in with a bag of chips and tossed it onto the table, then dropped onto the couch beside you with absolutely no regard for personal space.  “Okay,” he said, cracking open the bag. “You’re in my apartment. You haven’t run. That’s progress.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to look at him because you could feel his smile. “I didn’t run because I’m not twelve.”

“Mm.” He popped a chip into his mouth, chewing slowly.

“I actually never asked you, what’s your major? I mean…I can kind of guess.”

Hyunjin licked salt off his thumb and shot you a look that was equal parts amused and incredulous. “Kind of guess? Wow. Do tell.”

You gestured vaguely to the room, the sketchbooks, the canvas, the faint streak of blue paint on the back of his hand. “Hmm. Let me think. Maybe…Art History?”

He grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Cute. Try again.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Communications?” You joked. That earned you a chip flicked in your direction. You yelped, swatting it away.

Hyunjin shook his head, still smiling. “Interior design.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

He laughed at your expression, tossing another chip into his mouth. “What, you think I sit in lecture halls all day just to annoy you? I actually do stuff, you know.”

“No, I just…” You glanced around the apartment again, at the way the furniture actually made sense in the tiny space, the way the lights were strung to make the room feel warm instead of cramped. “…it fits.”

Hyunjin turned to look at you fully then. “Yeah?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. It…feels like you.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. His usual smirk softened into something quieter, and you hated how your chest tightened at the sight of it. “Guess I did something right then,” he murmured.

You looked away quickly, heat creeping up your neck. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

His grin came back, softer now. “Too late.” He nudged the bag of chips toward you. “Eat before I end up finishing these, and you accuse me of being a bad host.” You grabbed a handful and shoved them into your mouth. Hyunjin chuckled at the way you avoided his eyes, crunching dramatically. “Wow. Elegant. Graceful. Truly, my apartment has never seen such class.”

You shot him a glare mid-chew. “Shut up.”

He leaned back into the couch, one arm resting lazily along the backrest behind you, his fingers drumming once against the cushion like he didn’t even realize how close they were to your shoulder. “You know, for someone who swears they hate me, you sure don’t mind hanging out in my living room eating my food.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You invited me. And you bribed me with snacks.”

“Ah, so that’s all it takes to win you over? Noted.” His grin turned sharp and soft all at once. “Next time, I’ll get the fancy chips. Maybe even dip. Princesses deserve the best.”

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

Hyunjin’s head tilted slightly, his hair falling into his eyes as he looked at you. “You sound awfully sure of that.”

“I am.” You shoved another chip in your mouth to avoid saying anything else.

Hyunjin’s voice dropped, a soft edge cutting through the playful tone. “You know what’s actually annoying?”

You froze mid-chew. “What?”

“The way you keep pretending.” His knee pressed against yours again, not teasing this time. Firm. Intentional. “Like you don’t like me. Like you don’t want this.” His eyes locked on yours, and suddenly the room felt too small, the air too thin. “I’ve wanted you for so long. And now that I finally have you here, you sit on my couch, eat my chips, look at me like that, and then act like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing.”

You swallowed hard, the chips in your mouth suddenly turning to dust. “I don’t…”

“Yes, you do.” He leaned in slightly, not enough to touch, but enough that his words brushed warm against your skin. “You can hate me all you want. Call me selfish. Pretend I drive you insane. But don’t you dare sit there and tell me you don’t feel this.” His fingers drummed once against the cushion behind you. “Because I see it every time you look at me. You’re terrible at hiding it.”

“You’re…you’re imagining things.”

Hyunjin’s lips curved, but it wasn’t his usual smirk. It was softer. Sadder. “God, you really think I wouldn’t know the difference between pretending and the real thing? You think I’m that stupid?”

“...fine.”

“Fine, what?”

“You’re right.” The words slipped out before you could swallow them back down, and the second they hung in the air, you wanted to claw them back. Hyunjin went completely still. No smug smile, no teasing remark. Just a slow inhale like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

“…say it again.” His voice was low, careful, like you might vanish if he pushed too hard.

Your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. “You’re right.” You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t handle the weight of his eyes. “Happy now?”

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, one that sounded almost disbelieving. “Happy?” His voice cracked just slightly, and that did something awful to your chest. “Princess, you have no idea what you just did to me.”

You blinked at him, completely thrown. “It’s not…that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a-” He broke off with a disbelieving smile, running a hand through his hair like he needed to physically ground himself. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that since the day you threw your pen at my head sophomore year.”

Your jaw dropped. “That was an accident!”

“Mm, sure.” His knee pressed more firmly into yours, anchoring you to the couch, to him. “But it was the first time you ever really looked at me. Like you saw me.” His voice softened, all the playful edges stripped away. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to get you to look at me like that again.”

You swallowed hard, every smart retort dying in your throat. “I didn’t know…”

“Don’t take it back.” His voice was quiet but steady now, a plea wrapped in steel. “Please. Not this. Not when I finally know I’m not alone in this.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, and it was a mistake because there was nothing but raw, aching honesty there. No teasing. No games. Just him. And suddenly you couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason. “I’m not taking it back,” you said, your voice a whisper but steady enough to make his breath hitch.

For a second, he just stared at you like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Then his lips curved into the softest smile you’d ever seen on him, slow, fragile, like he was scared it would break if he moved too fast. “God, you’re gonna kill me,” he murmured, and before you could even process that, his forehead was pressing gently against yours. You froze, every nerve in your body lighting up all at once.

“Hyunjin?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do since we did it the first time at the lake.”

His lips were on yours before you could breathe. You didn’t think. Couldn’t. The world narrowed to the soft press of his mouth, the faint taste of salt from the chips, the way his hand slid up to cradle your jaw like you might break if he wasn’t careful. You grabbed at his shirt without realizing, pulling him closer until there was no space left to pretend with. The couch dipped beneath you both, and his other hand found your waist, steady, grounding, but still trembling just enough that you felt it. Hyunjin kissed you like he was afraid you’d disappear, like every second counted, and you matched him without meaning to, desperate and clumsy and so painfully real.

When he finally pulled back, it was barely an inch, his breath mingling with yours. His forehead stayed pressed to yours, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper, “I have something to show you.” He lingered there for just a second longer, like he needed to memorize the look on your face before he moved. Then he pulled back, slow and reluctant, and stood.

You blinked up at him, still dazed from the kiss, still clutching his shirt like you weren’t ready to let go. “What?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer right away. He crossed the room, his steps unhurried but purposeful, and crouched by the desk where the stack of sketchbooks sat. His fingers brushed over the covers like he knew every single one by heart until they stopped on one halfway down the pile.

Your stomach flipped when you saw it. The worn edges. The faint smudge of mud still clinging to the corner. You remembered it instantly. “That’s…” Your voice caught. “You brought that to camp.”

Hyunjin glanced at you over his shoulder, something soft flickering in his eyes before he turned back and lifted it gently from the stack. “Yeah.”

You couldn’t look away as he carried it back to the couch, his thumb running absently over the cover like he was nervous. When he sat beside you again, he held it between you both.

“Why that one?” you asked quietly.

His lips curved, small and almost shy, two words you’d never thought you’d associate with Hwang Hyunjin. “Because it’s the one I drew you in.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. You drew me by the lake.”

“How could you forget, my muse!”

“To be fair, a lot happened right after I saw you drawing me.”

Hyunjin’s laugh was soft, a little breathless, like he was remembering it too. “Yeah. You kind of ruined my masterpiece by running off like that.”

Your cheeks burned. “I did not ruin it.”

“You did. You moved, and I couldn’t finish your hair the way I wanted.” His thumb brushed the edge of the cover absently, his voice dipping a little lower. “I remember exactly how you were sitting, though. Knees pulled up, your chin resting there like you were holding the whole sky in your arms.”

You swallowed, suddenly too aware of how close he was. “You…remember all that?”

His eyes flicked to yours, steady and soft all at once. “I remember everything about that day.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t. He opened the sketchbook slowly, the spine creaking faintly with the motion. The pages flipped past smudges of trees, the curve of the shoreline, bits of camp scenery you vaguely recognized, until he stopped.

It was you. Exactly as he said. By the lake, with your knees tucked in, your hair falling over your face, the faintest hint of a smile you didn’t even remember making. It wasn’t perfect, not polished. But it felt real. Like you could hear the water lapping at the lake and feel the breeze against your skin.

You blinked hard, your voice almost a whisper. “Hyunjin…this is…”

“Terrible?” His mouth quirked up, but there was no real teasing in it. Just nerves.

You shook your head quickly. “No. It’s…me.”

His grin softened into something that made your chest ache. “Yeah. It’s you.”

You reached out before you could stop yourself, fingertips brushing the corner of the page like it might vanish if you touched it too hard. “I didn’t think you were actually looking at me that day.”

Hyunjin’s knee nudged yours, gentle, grounding. “Princess, I’ve been looking at you since the second we had that first class together.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, your hand finding the side of his face. His breath stuttered when your lips pressed against his, gentle at first, like you weren’t sure if this was allowed. Hyunjin went completely still for a heartbeat, and then his hand was on your waist, fingers curling into your shirt as he kissed you back with a softness that made your chest ache. The sketchbook slipped from his lap onto the couch beside you, forgotten.

—

When you got back to your apartment, your roommate, Felix, was waiting like he was in an interrogation scene. He sat on the living room chair and turned on the lamp the second you walked in, like an angry mom.

You froze in the doorway, clutching your bag to your chest like it was a shield. “...Hi.”

Felix didn’t blink. “Don’t ‘hi’ me. Sit.” He pointed to the couch with all the authority of someone who had been pacing for the last hour waiting for this moment.

You shuffled over, dropping into the cushions with all the grace of a guilty criminal. “You know, you’re terrifying when you’re serious.”

“I am serious,” Felix said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “You disappeared for three hours, didn’t answer my texts, and came back looking like you just walked out of a K-drama finale. So. Start talking.”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “...I did end up going to Hyunjin’s place.”

He wiggled his eyebrows.

“It’s not…it’s not what you think!” you said quickly, though your burning cheeks probably betrayed you instantly. “He just…he asked me to come over. And we…talked. Ate chips. Looked at his sketchbook. Watched TV.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh. And that explains why you look like you’ve been hit by a truck full of feelings?”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan.

“Oh my god,” Felix gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. “You kissed him.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “...Maybe.”

“MAYBE?” His voice cracked. “No, no, no, there is no maybe! Did lips touch lips or not?”

“Felix.”

“Answer the question!”

You let out a strangled sound and dropped your hands. “Fine! Yes! We kissed, okay? Are you happy now?”

Felix’s jaw dropped. Then he made a noise so high-pitched you were worried the neighbors might call animal control. He sprang off the chair, pacing the room like he couldn’t physically contain himself. “You kissed Hyunjin. You kissed Hyunjin. Do you understand the historical weight of what you’ve just done? Nations will write about this in textbooks!”

You grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at him. “Oh my god, stop!”

He caught it midair with reflexes born of sheer excitement and hugged it to his chest dramatically. “Was it good?”

You stared at him, deadpan. “…You’re actually twelve.”

“I’m serious! Was it good?”

Your cheeks heated so much you were genuinely worried you might combust on the spot. “…Yeah.”

Felix dropped the pillow and launched himself onto the couch beside you, shaking you by the shoulders. “You’re dating him.”

“We’re not dating!” you sputtered. “It was one kiss!”

“Hyunjin told me about the lake kisses. Sooooo….one kiss my ass!”

Your mouth fell open. “He what?”

Felix’s grin was nothing short of villainous. “Oh, you didn’t know? He told me. Yesterday. Wouldn’t shut up about it, actually.” He leaned back, looking way too pleased with himself. “Something about how it was the best kiss of his life? And that he’s had many, so that’s a compliment. How you tasted like stolen campfire marshmallows?”

You groaned so loud you were sure the neighbors heard. “I’m going to die.”

Felix pointed at you like he’d cracked a major conspiracy. “You like him. Like, really like him. And don’t even try to deny it this time because your face is literally spelling out the word ‘yes’ in bright neon lights right now.”

You flopped back down onto the couch, covering your face with both hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Correction,” Felix said, nudging your knee with his. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re falling.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” he said gently now, his teasing softening into something warm. “You’ve been so careful for so long. And I get it, I do. But if anyone was ever worth the risk…” He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s him, yeah?”

Your throat felt too tight, and for a second, all you could do was nod.

Felix patted your knee and got up, already heading toward the kitchen. “Cool. I’m making tea. You’re gonna sit there and panic while I process the fact that my two dumbest friends are in love with each other.”

—

You had fallen asleep on the couch that night, listening to Felix ramble about how to ask Hyunjin to be your boyfriend. You woke up to someone shaking your shoulder. Your eyes cracked open to see Felix crouched beside the couch, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“What,” you croaked, voice rough with sleep.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, way too chipper for the dim morning light streaming through the blinds. “Big news.”

You sat up slowly, hair sticking up at every angle. “If this is about running out of coffee again, I swear-”

“Hyunjin’s hosting another party tonight,” Felix cut in, voice full of barely-contained glee.

Your brain stalled. “...What?”

He nodded dramatically. “At his friend’s house. And guess what? You’re going.”

You blinked at him, still half-asleep. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Felix plopped down on the arm of the couch, kicking his feet like this was Christmas morning. “You kissed him. You can’t just stay home like nothing happened! That’s illegal. It’s literally against the law of…rom-coms. Or something.”

“Felix, the last time I went to one of his parties was sophomore year. Where I got drunk out of my mind and he basically told me I was pretty? Yeah. Since that day, I decided I’m staying out of Hyunjin’s party scene.”

Felix waved a dismissive hand. “And yet here we are. You kissed him, and now the universe is demanding a sequel. You can’t argue with fate.”

You dragged a hand down your face. “Felix, it’s a party. People. Noise. Alcohol. Hyunjin being…Hyunjin. It’s literally my nightmare.”

“Correction,” Felix said, leaning in like he was sharing state secrets. “It’s Hyunjin’s party. Which means it’s the perfect time to test if he’s gonna look at you the same way he did on that couch last night…or if he’s about to combust in public. Maybe even bust.”

“You are evil.”

“And you love me for it. Now, you have approximately-” he glanced at the clock dramatically, “-eleven hours to pick an outfit that will make Hwang Hyunjin lose all brain function.”

—

You stood outside the house that night, the muffled bass of music vibrating faintly through the walls. Your palms were clammy despite the cool evening air, and you briefly considered faking a sudden illness and bolting.

Felix hooked his arm through yours before you could move. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I wasn’t,” you lied.

He gave you a look. “You were. I can hear your fight-or-flight activating.”

“This is a mistake,” you hissed, staring at the front door like it was the gates of hell. “What if he regrets it? What if I regret it? What if he sees me and-”

“Falls to his knees because you look amazing? Yeah, that’s probably going to happen.” Felix tightened his grip and tugged you up the steps. “Now, deep breaths. In, out, repeat. And smile like you’re not about to pass out.”

The door opened before you could respond, letting out a wave of music and warm air. A couple of people glanced your way as you stepped inside, but your eyes immediately found him. Hyunjin was leaning against the wall near the kitchen, laughing at something someone said, a red cup dangling loosely from his fingers. His hair was a little messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked…good. Too good.

Felix elbowed you. “There he is. Go get him. Now, I’m going to go get a drink. You'd better keep your promise to be the designated driver.” With that, he walked to the kitchen.

You wanted to argue, but then Hyunjin turned his head, and his eyes landed on you. The grin he’d been wearing froze in place, his laugh dying in his throat. For a second, he didn’t move, didn’t blink. Like his brain was trying to make sure you were actually standing there. “Holy shit,” you heard him murmur, almost to himself. His cup lowered a little like he’d forgotten he was holding it. He looked…stunned. Not cocky, not smooth. Just completely undone.

Before he could even move toward you, a small group of girls swooped in, giggling as they latched onto him. “Hyunjin!” one of them squealed, touching his arm. “We were just talking about you! You have to come dance!”

“Yeah, come on!” another said, tugging on his sleeve. “You promised the next song was ours!”

He blinked, still staring at you over their shoulders like they weren’t even there. One of the girls followed his line of sight and glanced back at you, then smirked like she’d just uncovered a secret.

Hyunjin finally seemed to snap out of it, gently peeling their hands off him without looking away from you. “Not now,” he said, his voice rough in a way that made the girls blink.

“What do you mean, not now? Come on, it’s just one song-”

“I said not now.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was sharp enough to silence the giggles. His eyes softened immediately when they landed back on you.

You swallowed hard as Hyunjin finally stepped away from the group, moving toward you with a focus that made your breath catch. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, the music and chatter blurring into static. “You came,” he said softly, like he still couldn’t believe it. “You haven’t come here in a year.”

Your mouth went dry. “Yeah. Well…things change.”

Hyunjin’s lips parted like he wanted to say something, then closed again. He looked you over once, slow, almost reverent, like he was memorizing the sight of you standing in his world again. His hand twitched at his side like he had to physically stop himself from reaching for you in front of everyone. “You look…” His voice dipped, quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear him over the music. “You look so good it’s actually unfair.”

Heat crept up your neck. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” His smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, small but real. “It’s true.”

Before you could respond, the sound of heels clicking on the floor cut through the music. The same group of girls reappeared, their giggles weaving through the bass. “There you are!” one said brightly, looping her arm through Hyunjin’s before he could react. “We were serious about that dance.”

“Yeah, don’t be rude,” another added with a teasing grin, tugging lightly on his sleeve. “You can talk to your…friend later.”

Hyunjin stiffened, the faintest crease forming between his brows. He slipped his arm free with practiced ease, his voice calm but firm. “Not tonight.”

One of them pouted, leaning closer. “Oh, come on, just one song. You always dance with us. Don’t tell me you’re busy.” Her eyes flicked to you, something sly creeping into her smile. “Unless you are.”

“I said not tonight.” His voice held no room for negotiation this time, and the sharp edge in it made the girls falter.

For a heartbeat, none of them moved. Then one let out a laugh that sounded a little too forced. “Fine, fine. We’re not stealing you…yet.” They drifted back toward the music, glancing over their shoulders as they went.

Hyunjin exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. His eyes found yours again immediately, softening in a way that made your chest ache. “Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “They don’t mean anything by it. They just…” He trailed off, then sighed. “They don’t get it.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Get what?”

Hyunjin’s answer came quietly. “Get what no means.”

“Is this normally how your parties are? You flirting with girls?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened a fraction, his mouth opening and closing once before he found words. “Flirting? That’s not…no. I wasn’t…”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twist in your chest. “They sure seemed comfortable with you.”

Hyunjin stepped closer, his brows knitting together. “Because they always do that. It doesn’t mean anything. I…” his voice softened, “I haven’t done that since I started liking you seriously.”

Something warm and dangerous fluttered low in your stomach, but you still clung to the edge of your jealousy. “Yeah, well, they don’t look like they got the memo.”

Hyunjin stared at you for a beat, and then his lips curved, not into a smirk, but into something faint and almost tender. “You’re jealous.”

Your face went hot instantly. “I’m not jealous. We’re not even dating!”

“You are.” His voice dropped, soft but unshakable, like he’d just uncovered a secret you couldn’t hide. He leaned in slightly, enough that his next words brushed your skin. “God, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

You froze, your pulse loud in your ears. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re adorable!”

You scoffed, half turning away so he wouldn’t see the heat creeping up your neck. “You’re insane and impossible.”

Hyunjin’s laugh was low, soft in a way that wrapped around you despite the noise of the party. “You’re the one who showed up and made me forget anyone else was even here.”

You hated how your chest tightened at that. “That’s dramatic.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that same quiet focus he had when he’d held the sketchbook between you. “Maybe. But it’s true.” His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach for you but was fighting the urge in front of so many eyes.

You swallowed, the jealousy still prickling at the edges even though his words softened the sharpest parts of it. “It’s just…” You hesitated, fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt. “They all want you.”

Hyunjin blinked, like the thought had never even occurred to him. Then his lips curved, slow and certain. “They can want all they want. I only want one person.” His eyes searched yours, earnest in a way that made it hard to breathe. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t care about the parties or the noise or anyone else in this room.” He leaned in just enough that his words were meant only for you. “I’m going to be completely honest. These parties did start as a quick way for me to get hookups. But…I don’t know. I just don’t want to anymore. These parties are starting to get boring.”

Your brows lifted slightly at that. “Boring? You? Mr. Life-of-the-Party?”

He let out a small breath, his hand finally brushing against yours like he couldn’t hold back anymore. “You know what’s funny? I used to throw these parties, thinking they made me feel alive. But right now, standing here with you? This is the first time I’ve actually felt it.”

You swallowed hard, words caught somewhere between your throat and your chest. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, gentle, almost reverent, and you couldn’t tell if it was the music vibrating through the floor or your pulse that made your knees feel weak.

Hyunjin’s smile turned faintly sheepish, like he’d just realized how much he’d said out loud. “Sorry. I think…I might be a little tipsy.”

You huffed out a breathless laugh. “You don’t sound tipsy.”

“Oh, I am,” he said with a mock-serious nod, leaning in just slightly. “But not from the drinks.” His grin softened into something shy and warm. “It’s you. You’re the problem. You make me lose all my cool.”

You lightly smacked his arm. “You flirt!”

Hyunjin laughed, leaning into the hit like he deserved it. “What? That wasn’t flirting, that was…confessing under the influence.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

He grinned wider, clearly enjoying the way your cheeks were heating up. “Okay, fine. Maybe it was a little flirting. But if it makes you feel better…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice into something smooth that sent a shiver down your spine. “I haven’t used that line on any of my hookups before…until now.”

Your jaw dropped as you smacked his arm again, harder this time. “Hyunjin!”

He doubled over with laughter, holding his side like you’d actually hurt him. “Ow! Okay, okay, I deserved that one.” His eyes sparkled when he straightened up, his grin wicked but soft around the edges. “God, you’re cute when you're upset at me.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you by twitching up into a smile.

Hyunjin tilted his head, watching you with that same mix of teasing and tenderness that made your stomach twist. “...still cute.”

—

The night stretched on, the music fading into something more like background static as the party began to thin. People lounged in clusters, cups half-empty, conversations slurring slightly with the late hour. You and Hyunjin had ended up near the side of the living room, close enough to the open back door that the cooler night air brushed against your skin.

Hyunjin glanced at the door, then at you, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Hey,” he murmured, leaning in so only you could hear over the hum of the bass. “Come with me for a sec.”

You blinked. “Where?”

“The backyard.” His smile was small, almost shy, like he knew exactly what that meant. “Please.”

Your breath caught. The last time you’d been out there, you’d run from him, first of many. You ran from him, showing his first sign of interest in you. You still remember what he said, “Interesting enough to make me wonder what you’d look like in one of my sketches.”

Hyunjin must have seen the hesitation flicker across your face, because his hand brushed yours, featherlight. “I won’t scare you this time.” He chuckled lightly.

Your chest tightened at the memory, sharp and bittersweet. “You didn’t scare me,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Hyunjin’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just offered his hand properly this time. “Come on.”

You hesitated for a breath before sliding your fingers into his. His grip was warm, steady, not pulling, not demanding, just there. He led you through the open door, the sound of the party dulling instantly as the cool night air wrapped around you. The backyard looked the same. The faint glow of string lights, the quiet hum of crickets, the soft breeze carrying the smell of grass, and the oncoming summer. It felt frozen in time, like the place itself remembered that night as vividly as you did.

You stopped in almost the same spot, your stomach twisting. “Déjà vu,” you said quietly.

Hyunjin turned to face you, his hand still holding yours. “Yeah. But…different.”

You looked at him, at the way his usual confidence was tempered by something quieter, more vulnerable. “Do you remember what you said that night?”

His lips curved into the smallest, softest smile. “I remember everything.” He took a breath, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I wasn’t lying. You were interesting enough to make me want to sketch you. Enough that I have…and got to show you finally.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard you swore he could hear it. “That’s…” Your voice faltered. “That's true.”

Hyunjin’s grin turned tender as he stepped just a little closer, his voice dropping. “You stayed this time.”

You blinked, realizing he was right. Your feet hadn’t moved, hadn’t even twitched. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I did.”

His eyes searched yours, like he was memorizing every detail of you standing there under the lights. “Can I…” He hesitated, and for the first time that night, Hyunjin sounded unsure. “Can I kiss you? Here? Where you ran from me?”

“At this rate, I think you’re a secret poet.”

“I almost majored in English?”

You scoffed and stood on your tippy toes (or leaned down? I love you tall queens!) to kiss him. Hyunjin let out the softest laugh against your mouth, like he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. His hand came up, tentative at first, then surer as it slid to the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw like he was afraid you’d vanish if he wasn’t gentle enough.

—

You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, the faint echo of Hyunjin’s laugh still lodged somewhere in your chest. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt the ghost of his thumb on your jaw. Felix’s words on the drive home wouldn’t stop replaying either. “Just date already!” Like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like the answer wasn’t tied up in a thousand knots inside your ribcage. You wanted to. God, you wanted to. The kiss had made that clear enough. But wanting and asking were two very different things, and you weren’t sure which terrified you more, the possibility of him saying no or the reality of him saying yes.

What were you talking about? Obviously he would say yes.

Your phone sat on your nightstand, screen dark but heavy with temptation. You grabbed it before you could talk yourself out of it and opened your messages. Hyunjin’s name sat near the top of your screen, right above Felix spamming you with 👀 emojis. You hovered over the text bar, your thumbs poised but frozen.

You typed, So…about tonight, then deleted it immediately. Too vague. You tried again. Do you wanna maybe, like… Delete. Too awkward. You dropped the phone onto your pillow and covered your face with both hands. “This is ridiculous.” But even with your heart pounding and your stomach in knots, you picked the phone back up. Because underneath all the fear was this steady, stubborn truth, you wanted to call him yours.  Your thumbs hovered again. One deep breath, then you started typing.

You: Can I ask you something?

Hyunnie❤️: OMG! IT’S HAPPENING! CODE RED!

You laughed, honestly surprised he was awake at this hour.

You: I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out tomorrow. Maybe at your place?

Hyunnie❤️: Oh…Sure! Sounds perfect. What time?

You stared at the screen, the cursor blinking patiently. You had wanted to ask him something bigger, something that felt too fragile to type. You wanted to say it in person, to see his eyes when you asked, to hear his voice.

You: How about 7? I’ll bring dinner.

Hyunnie❤️: It’s a date.

—

With dinner balanced precariously in one hand, you stood outside Hyunjin’s apartment door the next evening with your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. The takeout bag crinkled as you shifted it nervously, staring at the door like maybe it would open on its own and save you from having to knock. 

You wanted to ask him. You really, really did. The words had been sitting on your tongue all day, making every hour feel longer than the last. But every time you thought about saying them out loud, your stomach flipped itself inside out. Before you could chicken out, the door swung open. Hyunjin stood there in a loose black hoodie and sweatpants, hair damp from a shower, and pushed back from his face. His smile when he saw you was immediate and soft, the kind that made your knees feel a little unreliable. “You came.”

You held up the bag like a shield. “I brought food.”

Hyunjin’s grin widened, stepping aside to let you in. “My favorite person and my favorite noodles? Best day ever.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how the words hit you right in the chest. The apartment smelled faintly like fabric softener and his cologne, warm and familiar. He grabbed plates while you unpacked dinner.

Halfway through the meal, you caught him watching you instead of eating, chin propped on his hand. “What?” you asked, nerves prickling under his gaze.

His smile was lazy, fond. “Nothing. You just…look really good sitting at my table.”

Your face heated so fast you had to stare at your food. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.” His tone softened. “Feels…right.”

Your chopsticks paused midair. This was it. The opening. You could feel the words clawing their way up your throat. Do you want to be my boyfriend? 

Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Hey. You okay?”

You swallowed hard and forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just…thinking.”

Hyunjin set his chopsticks down quietly, leaning forward over the table. His voice dropped, soft but steady. “Thinking about us?”

“...maybe.”

The corner of his mouth lifted like he’d just confirmed something he’d been hoping for. He reached across the table, his fingers brushing over yours until you let him take your hand. His thumb rubbed a slow, soothing circle against your skin. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about us too.”

“You have?”

“Every day since you kissed me by the lake.” His smile turned small, almost shy, which on Hyunjin felt disarming. “Every day since you ran from me in that backyard, honestly.” He took a slow breath, eyes locked on yours. “So I’m just gonna say it before I lose my nerve.”

“Say what?”

He squeezed your hand gently, his voice soft but certain. “Be my girlfriend.”

“I…what…”

Hyunjin’s grin tilted a little nervously, but his eyes didn’t waver. “You heard me. Be my girlfriend. Please. I don’t care if we’re figuring it out as we go, or if we’re both a little terrified. I just…” His voice cracked the tiniest bit, his thumb brushing your knuckles like he needed the contact to keep steady. “I just know I don’t want this to be a maybe anymore.”

You stared at him, your pulse so loud it drowned out everything else. He wanted this. He wanted you.

“Hyunjin…” Your voice came out quieter than you meant, but the smile that broke over his face told you he heard every word anyway.

“Yes?” His tone held that hopeful lilt, like he was already bracing for your answer.

You let out a breath that felt like it’d been trapped for weeks and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

The relief that washed over his face was so raw it made your chest ache. He laughed, soft and shaky, before standing and tugging you up with him. The kiss he pressed to your mouth was sweet and sure, his hands framing your face like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his voice came out as a whisper, almost reverent. “Finally.”

General Taglist: @moonlitcelestial @akindaflora @beppybeesnuggets @rylea08 @yxna-bliss @felixsonlyrealwife @wolfs-howling @velvetmoonlght @rougegenshin @ilovvesleepp @qwonyoung23 @imagine-all-the-imagines @hhwangsmoon @hanniesbubuwife

Manchild taglist: @afararraaaa @hhwangsmoon @stayjinnie @mamnaimiefrankie 

[littlejoyss]

OMG YESSS I LOVED THAT SOULMATE ENDING FOR HYUNJIN AND YN.

Its so cute and domestic and wahhh. them helping each other heal from the trauma?! The teaser that all the other kids also having kids and finding their soulmates CHEFS KISS FOR REAL I LOVED IT SO SO SO MUCH

Lee know next, im so excited. Also I did read the other news. I hope you have a lovely start to your new schoolyear!! Break a leg is meant for the theatre but it works in my head so

BREAK A LEG AND HAVE FUN!!

Thank you so much!!

Yeah! I plan on writing all eight members stories. I've already written four and am giving myself a half way point break (which knowing me, won't be long).

Thanks for the luck. This year I'm planning on doing a lot 😮‍💨 Someone's gotta represent the STEM girlies though

[littlejoyss]

epilogue

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms."

Stray Kids - Hyunjin x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count: 33k

previous part <- current part

(Years Later)

The morning light spilled golden across the bedroom, soft and warm, filtering through the curtains that swayed faintly in the summer breeze. Hyunjin stirred first, blinking himself awake to the quiet sound of a tiny sigh beside him. He turned his head and smiled. There she was, curled in the crook of your arm, her tiny fists bunched against your shirt, lips parted in sleep. Eun-ae. Her hair was sticking up in all directions from her restless dreaming, and her long lashes rested on cheeks flushed from her nap. Hyunjin reached out with careful fingers, brushing one soft strand of hair away from his daughter's forehead. 

You stirred at the faint movement, your eyes fluttering open. A slow, sleepy smile curved your lips when you found him already watching. “Morning,” you whispered.

“Morning.” His voice was hushed like he might wake Eun-ae. His thumb traced light arcs over her tiny shoulder where her onesie had slipped just slightly. He shifted slightly on the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. “She was frowning in her sleep. Dreaming about something serious, maybe.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing Hyunjin’s where they lingered on Eun-ae’s shoulder. “Hopefully not about us already embarrassing her in public.”

Hyunjin’s grin widened, though his eyes stayed fixed on his daughter’s tiny face. “She’s going to have plenty of reasons to be embarrassed with me as her dad. I’ll be the one in the school drop-off line singing out loud.”

“Please don’t,” you whispered through a laugh, shifting slightly so Eun-ae could settle more comfortably in your arms. “She’s barely a few weeks old and you’re already planning to make her life difficult.”

“Not difficult,” Hyunjin murmured, his tone softening. “Memorable.”

You watched the way his hand lingered, tracing an absentminded pattern on Eun-ae’s sleeve. He looked different now, not in any drastic way, but in a quiet, settled way that spoke to years of growing together. There were still traces of the Hyunjin from those early days, the streak of mischief in his smile, the deliberate grace in how he moved, but fatherhood had brought something new.

“Does it still feel surreal to you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “That she’s ours?”

Hyunjin blinked at you, his expression softening even further as his gaze drifted from Eun-ae to you. “Every single day,” he admitted. “Sometimes I just… stare at her and try to wrap my head around the fact that we made her. That she’s real. That this is real.”

Your thumb brushed lightly over Eun-ae’s tiny hand, where it rested on your chest. “She’s perfect.”

“She’s you,” Hyunjin said without hesitation.

You tilted your head, giving him a tired but amused look. “You always say that. She’s you, too, you know. She’s got your long fingers already.”

“And your eyes,” he countered softly, his own eyes crinkling as a faint smile tugged at his lips. “I see them every time she looks up at me.”

Eun-ae shifted slightly, letting out a small squeak that made you both pause. Hyunjin instinctively moved closer, his hand hovering just in case she startled awake. But she settled with a faint sigh, her tiny chest rising and falling steadily.

“She’s going to grow up so fast,” Hyunjin whispered after a moment, his voice almost tentative, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it. “It feels like we just brought her home, and already she’s getting bigger. Her onesies don’t even fit the same anymore.”

You leaned your head back against the pillow, watching him watch her. “You’re going to be the parent who cries at every milestone, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he said without a shred of shame. His hand shifted slightly so his thumb could brush over Eun-ae’s tiny knuckles. “I’m already a mess just watching her sleep.”

“She’s going to have you wrapped around her finger.”

“She already does,” Hyunjin said softly, his tone light but his expression unreadable for a beat. Then he looked at you again, eyes warm. “You both do.”

You felt your throat tighten, but you covered it with a soft laugh. “That’s not a fair amount of power for us to hold over you.”

“Too late. I’d give you both anything.”

Eun-ae shifted again, her lips parting in a tiny yawn as her hands curled into tighter fists. Hyunjin’s face lit up at the sound. “There it is,” he whispered. “She’s waking up.”

You smiled tiredly, brushing a finger down Eun-ae’s soft cheek. “Morning, sweetheart.”

Hyunjin leaned in closer, his now long hair falling slightly forward as he pressed the lightest kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Good morning, little love.” Eun-ae squirmed faintly, her face scrunching as her eyes fluttered halfway open. For a moment, it looked like she might cry, but instead, she let out a tiny sigh and nestled closer against you.

“She’s going to want to eat soon,” you murmured.

“I’ll get her bottle,” Hyunjin offered immediately, already moving to stand. But you caught his hand before he could pull away.

“Wait a second,” you said softly. “Just stay. She’s calm right now, and so are we. Let’s just… enjoy it for a minute.” Hyunjin stilled, his hand warm in yours. Then he sank back down beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked down at your daughter again.

“Years ago,” he whispered, his voice almost lost to the sound of Eun-ae’s tiny breaths, “I couldn’t have pictured this. Not in my wildest dreams.”

“Me neither,” you admitted, leaning your head lightly against his. “But I’m glad we’re here.”

Hyunjin’s hand found yours where it rested on the blanket, his fingers curling around yours. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on Eun-ae, her tiny chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of a newborn. “I think about it a lot,” he murmured finally. “How much has changed. How much we’ve changed. Years ago, I thought I’d be on stage forever. That I’d never know when to stop.”

You turned your head slightly, your gaze soft as you watched the faint crease in his brow. “And now?”

He smiled faintly, almost to himself. “Now I can’t imagine not stopping. Not making space for this… for her. For us.” He glanced at you then, his eyes warm and a little misty. “Felix was the first, you know? To really step back. I remember when he told us about their baby, I thought I’d never be ready for that. I was proud of him, but I couldn’t picture myself there.” You felt your chest tighten at the memory of how uncertain Hyunjin had been back then, torn between the life he’d known and the one he hadn’t dared to dream about.

“Then Han,” Hyunjin continued softly. “He swore he’d keep working until he was sixty, and now he’s a dad of two. And Chan…” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Chan of all people. The one who held it all together for us. Seeing him hold his daughter for the first time, I think that’s when it really hit me. And now I know Minho is planning on kids too…it just makes me wonder. That maybe it wouldn’t be the end of everything if I let go, too.”

You squeezed his hand, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “You didn’t let go, though. You just made room for something new.”

Hyunjin’s smile softened further as his gaze fell back to Eun-ae. “She made me realize there’s a whole different stage I want to be on. Not under lights or cameras. Just here. With you. With her.” His voice faltered slightly, and he cleared his throat. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How we thought we’d lose ourselves without the work, the tours… but I’ve never felt more me than I do right now.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your own eyes stinging at his quiet confession. “She’s going to grow up with so much love.”

“She already is. From us. From her uncles. From their kids, too. Can you imagine them all together someday? Felix’s little boy teaching her how to skate. Han’s twins making her laugh until she snorts.”

You chuckled softly, closing your eyes at the thought. “And Chan’s daughter bossing them all around.”

Hyunjin laughed too, the sound quiet but warm. “Exactly. A whole little family. I never knew I wanted that so badly… until now.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt full rather than empty. Eun-ae stirred slightly, her tiny fingers flexing against your shirt as if in agreement. Hyunjin reached out and brushed a fingertip across her knuckles. “Retirement used to sound so… final,” he admitted softly. “Like a door slamming shut. But now it feels more like opening one. And I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Not the tours. Not the crowds. Nothing.”

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“It would make me happier if you married me.”

Your breath caught. The words hung in the air between you, delicate but heavy. Hyunjin hadn’t looked away from Eun-ae, but you could feel the weight of his gaze shifting, like he was holding his breath, too, waiting.

“Hyunjin…” you whispered, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

He finally turned his head, his eyes warm and unflinchingly steady on yours. There was no grand gesture, no nervous stammer. Just quiet certainty, the kind that had been building for years, through late-night talks, tearful arguments, and the gentle wonder of building a life together. “I’ve been carrying those words around for a while,” he admitted softly. “Waiting for the right moment. But maybe there isn’t one. Maybe it’s just… this. You, me, her. Lying here, feeling like my whole world is in this room.”

You stared at him, your lips trembling with a smile as Eun-ae shifted again in your arms, letting out a soft squeak that almost felt like encouragement. “You’re really going to propose while I’ve got baby spit on my shirt?” you teased faintly, though your voice cracked at the edges.

Hyunjin’s grin softened, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he leaned in slightly. “It wouldn’t be us if it weren’t a little chaotic. And anyway…” His voice dropped, achingly tender. “You’ve already given me everything I’ve ever wanted. A home. A family. I just… I want to give you my name too.” You felt tears sting your eyes as your free hand reached for his, gripping it tightly. 

“Say yes,” he whispered, his expression open and vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache. “Say yes so I can tell Eun-ae her parents are going to get married. So I can spend the rest of my life making it up to you for all the ways I probably annoy you now, and all the ways I’ll annoy you when we’re eighty.”

You let out a soft laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks as you nodded. “Yes. Why would I say anything but yes?”

Hyunjin’s relief came out as a quiet, shaky laugh of his own, and before you could say another word, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to yours. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For everything. For her. For us.”

Eun-ae let out another tiny sigh between you, her tiny hand brushing against your chest like she’d somehow been listening the whole time. Hyunjin’s fingers found their way to her little ones, and he smiled down at her. “Looks like you’re going to be a flower girl someday, little love,” he whispered.

You laughed through your tears, leaning your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder as his arm curled gently around both of you. For a moment, none of you moved. The three of you were tangled together in warmth and quiet joy, the morning sunlight wrapping around you like a promise.

(A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed Hyunjin's story! I enjoyed writing this dynamic way more than I expected to.

Now comes the dreaded announcement...the school year is starting soon. This summer, I have been going full speed ahead with writing and uploading, but once school starts, I'll have more things to do in the real world. So, I will still be writing and uploading, just expect more of a gap between parts.

Now comes the good announcement...the next story of the series!

"Feeling" Minho didn’t want a soulmate. Or more accurately, he didn’t think he deserved one, not with the kind of life he leads, all eyes on him, schedules packed until his body aches. But when Soonie gets sick, he ends up rushing to the local vet clinic in the middle of the night. (Y/N) is the on-call vet tech. Frazzled. Barely awake. But the second her fingers brush over Minho’s as he hands Soonie over, the golden thread between them flares so bright it nearly blinds him. At first, he’s quiet. Almost cold. But the more he comes in to check on Soonie, the more cracks form in his walls. And soon, it’s not about the cat anymore. (TRIGGER WARNINGS: Close to death animal :( )

If you want to be added to my general taglist, a taglist for a certain member, or the Soulmates Series taglist, comment below! If you're already on the Soulmates Series taglist, you'll transfer to the next story :). Thank you guys so much for all the support!)

(SOULMATES SERIES MASTERLIST)

General Taglist: @moonlitcelestial @akindaflora @beppybeesnuggets @rylea08 @yxna-bliss @felixsonlyrealwife @wolfs-howling @velvetmoonlght @rougegenshin @ilovvesleepp @qwonyoung23 @imagine-all-the-imagines @hhwangsmoon

Soulmate Series Taglist: @eridanuswave @dlizzzy @allenajade-ite @crazy4books1 @i-am-fork @btch8008s @offl-ine @robinnotgood24 @hwangrfrnd @natvlad93 @beal-o @i-bitch-you-bitch

[littlejoyss]

chance part 10

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms."

Stray Kids - Hyunjin x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count: 33k

previous part <- current part -> next part | masterlist

Hyunjin sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, shirt unbuttoned again as he smoothed out a dress he’d picked for you, his expression concentrated like a painter deciding where the final brushstroke should go.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured, still perched on the edge of the mattress, clutching the blanket around you.

He glanced up, a small smile curving his lips. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

“Lucky?”

“That you let me do that,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the hem of the dress absently. 

Your chest ached at his words. You wanted to tell him he didn’t have to say things like that, that he didn’t need to keep proving his worth, not to you. But when his dark eyes met yours, full of warmth and quiet devotion, the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you managed a faint, teasing smile. “Are you going to keep staring at me like that, or are you actually going to dress me, Versace boy?”

Hyunjin’s grin widened, mischief flickering in his gaze. “Versace boy? I’ll take it.” He patted the space in front of him. “Come here, muse. I have a vision.”

You raised a brow, but let the blanket slide off your shoulders and padded toward him. He held the dress out reverently, as though it were spun from starlight instead of silk. It was a last-minute decision to pack that.

“This color will make your eyes glow,” he said, voice low and velvety as he helped you step into the garment. “And the cut, here,” his fingers skimmed your shoulders as he eased the straps into place, “perfect for someone who has no idea how beautiful she is.”

“Hyunjin…” Your voice was a whisper, your pulse tripping over itself as his knuckles brushed down your arms.

He didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he turned you gently toward the mirror. “Look.”

You stared at your reflection, almost not recognizing yourself. The dress clung and flowed in all the right places, the fabric catching the light with each breath you took. But it wasn’t just the dress, it was the way Hyunjin was looking at you in the glass, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“You see?” he murmured against your temple. “Masterpiece.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The art gallery was quiet when you arrived, tucked away down a narrow street in Seoul that smelled faintly of rain. Hyunjin’s hand never left yours as you walked through the entrance, your steps slow. You made sure you still did your job as his bodyguard by scanning around, but you were more chill now. The ceilings soared high above you, pale sunlight spilling in through enormous windows. The space was warm and still, the only sound the soft echo of your footsteps on polished floors.

Hyunjin tugged you gently toward a series of canvases arranged in a row. “This was the first gallery I ever visited alone,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent. “Back when I was still a trainee. I came here whenever I felt like I was disappearing.”

You looked up at him, your heart softening. “Why?”

“Because art doesn’t rush. It doesn’t demand. It just… exists. No matter how messy life gets, it stays.” He traced the air just above one of the canvases with his fingers. “And standing here, surrounded by all this… I felt like I could, too.”

You didn’t speak. You just squeezed his hand, and his thumb brushed over your knuckles in return. For the next hour, you let him lead you through the gallery, stopping often as he pointed out pieces that stole his breath or colors that made his heart ache.

At one point, you found yourselves in front of a massive oil painting, stormy blues and bruised purples swirling across the canvas like a restless sea. Hyunjin stared at it for a long moment before speaking. “This one… it reminds me of you.”

“Me?”

He nodded, his eyes tracing the chaotic waves, the glints of light breaking through. “It’s strong. Untamed. Beautiful even in the middle of a storm.” His gaze slid to yours, tender and unflinching. Your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The faint golden thread between your pinkies pulsed once, twice, like it was alive, like it agreed. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For letting me take you here. For letting me show you this part of me.”

You turned to face him fully, your heart full to bursting. “Thank you for letting me in.”

Hyunjin’s lips curved faintly. He ducked his head, and for a moment, you could see the boy beneath the idol, the boy who used to stand alone in this very room, trying to convince himself he wasn’t fading. “You make it easy,” he said finally, voice low like he was afraid of disturbing the quiet sanctity of the gallery. “Letting you in… It doesn’t feel like a risk with you.”

The golden thread between your pinkies pulsed again, warm and insistent, and without thinking, your fingers shifted to tangle more fully with his. You squeezed lightly, and his thumb brushed over your hand as though grounding himself.

“Good,” you whispered back. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

His gaze softened further, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you right there, gallery patrons and staff be damned. But instead, he pulled you gently toward the next room. “Come on,” he murmured. “There’s one more piece I want you to see.” The room he led you to was smaller, almost hidden. The walls were lined with delicate sketches, soft pencil strokes capturing fleeting moments. A woman with her hair blowing in the wind, a child laughing mid-spin, a couple holding hands beneath an umbrella.

Hyunjin stopped in front of one near the corner, his fingers twitching slightly like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare. “This one,” he said quietly. “This has always been my favorite.”

You studied it, a simple pencil drawing of two figures sitting on a bench. Their hands weren’t quite touching, but there was something in the tilt of their heads, the closeness of their shoulders, that spoke louder than any physical contact.

“Why?” you asked softly.

“Because it’s quiet,” he said after a pause. “There’s no grand gesture. No fireworks. Just two people… who don’t need to say anything to understand each other.”

You looked at him then. At the faint circles still under his eyes, the crease in his brow, the way he held himself carefully even now, aware of the wound beneath his shirt. And yet his expression as he gazed at the sketch was peaceful, almost content.

“You deserve that,” you murmured before you could stop yourself. “The kind of quiet where you can just… be.”

His eyes flicked to you, surprise softening into something deeper. “So do you.” He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing yours as he spoke again, his voice just for you. “Let’s make that kind of quiet together.”

You couldn’t find words, so you only nodded. And when he lifted your hand to press a light kiss to your knuckles, the golden thread between you thrummed so hard it felt like a heartbeat. Then, finally, you said it.  “I love you, Hwang Hyunjin.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The walk back was slow. The late afternoon sun had softened to a hazy gold, spilling across the narrow Seoul streets and painting long shadows between buildings. The air smelled faintly of rain, the kind that had come and gone in thin, misty sheets earlier, leaving the pavement cool and dark beneath your feet.

Hyunjin’s hand was still wrapped around yours, his thumb brushing lazy arcs over your knuckles as if the movement had become second nature. He looked serene, his features bathed in soft light, hair falling in loose waves around his face. But you noticed it, the slight drag in his steps, the way his free hand kept drifting toward his side, fingers brushing the bandage beneath his shirt like he was checking it was still there.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently.

His lips curved faintly, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Just tired. Not in a bad way.”

“Do you want me to call a car?” you asked.

Hyunjin shook his head immediately. “No. I like this. Walking with you like this. Feels…” His voice trailed off as though he was still searching for the word. Then, “Normal. Safe.”

You squeezed his hand lightly. “It’s supposed to feel that way. But if you need to rest-”

“Stop worrying,” he murmured with a soft laugh. “You’re going to get wrinkles before I do.”

“Not funny,” you muttered, but your lips twitched.

Hyunjin glanced at you then, his expression softening in a way that made your chest ache. “It is to me. Because you’re the only person I’ve ever met who could still worry about me after letting me undress her like a doll earlier.”

Heat bloomed under your skin, and you gave his shoulder a gentle shove, careful of his injury. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he teased lightly, “here you are. Still holding my hand. Still walking beside me like you’re not regretting a thing.”

“I’m not,” you said, the words slipping out so naturally you surprised even yourself. “Not anymore.”

Hyunjin’s steps faltered for a beat, and when you looked up, his smile had faded, not because he was upset, but because something softer, heavier had settled in his eyes. “You don’t know what that does to me when you say things like that,” he murmured.

You stopped walking. So did he. The golden thread between your pinkies pulsed once, twice, a steady rhythm like a shared heartbeat. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The city hummed faintly around you, cars passing, a stray dog barking in the distance. But here, on this quiet street, it felt like the world had gone still. Then Hyunjin raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m trying so hard not to fall apart right now,” he said, his voice breaking faintly.

“Then don’t.” You stepped closer, free hand rising to rest gently on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath your palm. “You don’t have to hold it together with me.”

His eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, his shoulders seemed to relax fully. “Let’s go home,” he said finally, his voice low, tender. “Before I forget how to walk and make you carry me.”

“You’d like that too much,” you said with a faint laugh, but you slipped your arm carefully around his waist anyway as you began walking again, his hand never leaving yours.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The apartment door clicked softly shut behind you, muting the faint sounds of the city outside. Hyunjin took off his shoes with slow, deliberate movements, his hand never leaving yours. Even now, back in the safety of his own apartment, he stayed close, like he wasn’t ready to break the invisible tether that had pulled the two of you together all day.

“You need to sit down,” you murmured, guiding him gently toward the couch.

He gave a soft huff of laughter but didn’t argue. Instead, he lowered himself onto the cushions with careful grace, one hand ghosting over his side where the bandage lay beneath his cream shirt.

You crouched in front of him, your hands already reaching for the buttons of his shirt. “Let me check the bandage. Just in case.”

His eyes softened as he watched you work, fingers deft and precise but gentle all the same. “You know… sometimes I think you were born for this.”

“For what?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“This.” His hand came up to brush your hair back behind your ear, his thumb lingering against your jaw. “Taking care of people. Taking care of me.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced a small smile. “Someone has to make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”

He chuckled faintly, though it faded quickly as you peeled the shirt back from his chest, exposing the clean white bandage across his ribs. The edges were still neat, no signs of fresh bleeding. Relief fluttered in your chest, though you didn’t let it show. When you’d finished checking the bandage and began rebuttoning his shirt, his voice broke the quiet. “I’m ready.”

You froze, fingers stilling on the fabric. “Ready?”

“To know more.” His eyes shifted to meet yours, dark and steady, though there was a faint tremor in his voice that betrayed him. “About… him. The one who…” He broke off, jaw tightening as his gaze dropped to the floor. “The one who hurt me.”

Your stomach knotted. It wasn’t the first time the subject had surfaced, but every time before, Hyunjin had deflected. Brushed it off. Changed the topic with a quiet smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hyunjin…” You sat back on your heels, searching his face. “Are you sure? You don’t have to push yourself if…”

“I know,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. Then his shoulders sagged, and his voice softened. “I know. But I can’t keep avoiding it forever.”

“You’re not avoiding it,” you said gently. “You’re healing. That takes time.”

“It’s been time. And I keep telling myself I’m fine, that I don’t need to know more. But the truth is…” He trailed off, hands tightening faintly in his lap. “The truth is, I was scared. Scared that if I heard his name, or saw his face, it would make it real again. Like I’d be right back there.”

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. He let you take it, his fingers curling tightly around yours. “Whatever you learn, whatever you feel, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when his eyes met yours again, they were glassy with unshed tears. “I know,” he whispered. “That’s why I think I can do this now. Because I’m not alone anymore.”

“You’re not alone,” you echoed.

Hyunjin exhaled shakily, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Will you… Will you help me?”

“Always,” you said without hesitation.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then Hyunjin tugged gently at your hand, pulling you up to sit beside him. He turned, curling into your side as his head found its place in the crook of your neck. “I’m still scared,” he admitted, his voice muffled against your skin.

“That’s okay,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Together.”

You opened your laptop and opened the tabs you had looked at the previous night. Hyunjin stayed curled against you as the soft glow of the laptop screen lit the dim room. His arm rested loosely around your waist, his breath warm where it ghosted across your collarbone. You could feel the faint tension in his body, like a tightly wound string slowly loosening, but not yet slack.

The search results loaded silently, articles, police reports, even a few blurred photos. You’d pulled them up the night before, unable to sleep, wondering how to gently bring this moment to him when he was ready.

But still, you hesitated, your finger hovering over the trackpad. “We don’t have to dive in all at once,” you said quietly. “We can take it slow. You can look away whenever you want, okay?”

Hyunjin nodded against your shoulder, his fingers tightening faintly in the fabric of your shirt. “Okay.”

You scrolled carefully, choosing the shortest article first, a straightforward news brief about the assault and the arrest made weeks later. Hyunjin’s gaze flicked to the screen, his body tense but steady. You felt him exhale against your shoulder as you read aloud softly, giving him the chance to stop you at any moment. When you reached the end and he still hadn’t pulled away, you glanced at him. “Do you want to see the next one? Or take a break?”

“Next,” he said quietly, his voice low but firm.

You hesitated a moment longer, then clicked into another article. This one was longer and more detailed. The headline made your stomach twist: “Park Jiwoon Confesses Motive in Idol Assault: ‘She Was Always Watching Him’” Your pulse spiked, but you didn’t let your face betray it. You felt Hyunjin’s hand tighten slightly in the fabric of your shirt again, his breath shallow. “Are you sure?” you murmured. “This one… it’s more personal.”

“I want to know,” he whispered. “Please.”

You nodded and began reading.

“Park Jiwoon, 28, confessed during interrogation that his attack on Hwang Hyunjin was motivated by a long-simmering resentment. Investigators report that Jiwoon discovered his longtime girlfriend’s admiration for the K-pop idol and felt ‘belittled and emasculated’ by repeated comparisons to Hwang.”

Hyunjin went utterly still.

You swallowed, forcing your voice steady as you continued. “‘Every time I saw her watching him, smiling at his performances, I felt like less of a man,’ Jiwoon told police. ‘I wanted him to know how it felt to be powerless. I wanted him to see what it’s like to be humiliated.’”

You stopped there, unable to keep reading. Hyunjin’s fingers dug into your side, not hard, but enough that you could feel his nails through the fabric.

“I…” His voice broke, low and raw. “It wasn’t even about me.”

“...”

“It was about him.” His words tumbled out in a rush now, shaking. “About his ego. His pride. I…I wasn’t even a person to him. Just… just some image he hated because his girlfriend-” He cut himself off with a choked sound, his free hand curling into a fist in his lap.

You turned, framing his face gently with your hands. His eyes were wide and wet, his jaw taut like he was trying to hold back everything at once.

“You are a person,” you said fiercely. “You were always a person. What he did says nothing about you and everything about him.”

Hyunjin blinked rapidly, a tear slipping down his cheek despite the tight control in his expression. “But it… it felt so personal.”

“Of course it did,” you whispered. “Because he made it violent. He made it real. But listen to me, Hyunjin, it doesn’t define you. He doesn’t get to define you.”

His breath hitched, and then suddenly he was pressing his face into your neck, his arms winding around your waist like he needed to anchor himself.

“I hate him,” he whispered hoarsely. “I hate that he made me feel like I was nothing. I hate that I’ve been carrying him with me all this time without even knowing his name.”

You held him tighter, stroking his hair as he shook faintly in your arms. “You’re not carrying him anymore,” you murmured against his temple. “You’re letting him go. One step at a time. He’s in prison now.”

Hyunjin clung to you like a lifeline, the golden thread between your pinkies thrumming warm and strong in the dark room. “Promise me,” he whispered after a long moment. “Promise me you’ll stay even if I break down. Even if I’m… not okay for a while.”

“Hyunjin.” You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. “I’m already here. I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

His lips quivered faintly like he wanted to say something else, but instead he leaned in and kissed you, not hard, not desperate, but soft and lingering, like he was trying to pour every unsaid word into that single moment.

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[littlejoyss]

chance part 9

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms."

Stray Kids - Hyunjin x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count: 33k

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The morning sunlight streamed weakly through the curtains, painting the apartment in soft golds and grays. You were curled up on Hyunjin’s couch, his hoodie loose on your frame and your hands wrapped around the lukewarm mug of tea he’d made hours ago.

The TV spoke softly in the background. You weren’t really watching, just staring blankly at the screen while Hyunjin busied himself in the kitchen, humming faintly under his breath. You wonder if it was a new song he was working on with his bandmates or if it was an original.

Then you heard the news on TV. “Breaking news this morning, Park Jiwon, the man accused of assaulting idol Hwang Hyunjin last month, has accepted a plea deal with prosecutors…”

Your breath hitched. The mug wobbled slightly in your hands.

Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder, sensing the shift in the air. “What is it?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes were fixed on the anchor’s face, words crashing over you like cold water. “…pleading guilty to aggravated assault and cyberstalking in exchange for a reduced sentence. Reports say Park Jiwon had been sending online threats and stalking the idol through online text messages between a friend who worked for JYP Entertainment-”

“It was a mistake,” you said sharply. Except it came out more like a whisper.

Hyunjin froze, a carton of orange juice in his hand. “What?”

You turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. “Letting them offer him a deal. It was a mistake.”

“...why?”

“What do you mean, why! The man who attempted to kill you is getting less time in jail. I’m surprised he wasn’t charged with attempted murder!” Your voice cracked, louder than you meant, and Hyunjin flinched, not at your tone, but at the storm raging behind your eyes. You shoved the mug onto the coffee table with shaking hands, sloshing tea over the edge. “I’m surprised they’re letting him walk away with a deal,” you continued, your voice trembling now. “He’s going to get out. He’s going to get out, and then what? He’s going to come back for you. Or-” Your breath hitched. “Or maybe he won’t even wait that long.”

“Hey.” Hyunjin’s voice was quiet, but there was steel threaded through it now. He set the juice down with deliberate care and crossed the room. He crouched in front of you again, his hands braced on his knees like he was trying to make himself small enough to fit in your collapsing world. “He’s not coming back.”

“You don’t know that!”

The reporter continued, “Police say the intent to assault Hyunjin was made when he found his girlfriend reading fanfiction about the idol. Jiwon got jealous and decided to harm the idol.”

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “What? What does that-”

The anchor kept talking, the words slicing through the air like a knife. “…evidence recovered from Jiwon’s apartment included handwritten notes detailing his plan, as well as screenshots of fan-created content featuring Hwang Hyunjin. Investigators believe these materials may have contributed to the suspect’s obsession and escalation toward violence.”

You stared at the TV, your pulse pounding in your ears. The world tilted for a moment, the edges of your vision threatening to blur. “This is…this is insane,” you whispered, the words trembling out of you. “All of this… because of some stupid fanfiction? Because his girlfriend-” You broke off with a sharp exhale, your hands curling into fists in your lap. “This wasn’t random,” you said finally, your voice low and raw. “It wasn’t just some guy with a knife. It was planned. He thought about this, over and over, and he still went through with it.”

“I know,” Hyunjin said quietly. “But he’s in custody now.”

“Not for long,” you snapped, your eyes flashing up to meet his. “A reduced sentence? That’s not justice. That’s a time limit. He’ll get out, Hyunjin. And you’ll still be a target because people like him don’t stop. They fixate. They escalate.”

“Do you want me to be scared?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“Because I’m not. Not of him. Not with you here. And it’s not because I think you’re invincible…it’s because I trust you. I trust you with my life.”

The golden thread between your pinkies pulsed hard, the warm tug so fierce it felt like it was trying to anchor you to the present. Your chest constricted painfully as the tears threatened again. “You shouldn’t,” you said hoarsely.

“Then let me be stupid,” Hyunjin murmured, his lips twitching into a faint, rueful smile. “Because I don’t know how to stop.”

His words cracked something open in you. All the fear, all the guilt, all the exhaustion surged forward in a rush, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” Hyunjin’s hand came up to cradle your cheek. 

“Promise me something,” you whispered.

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll keep being careful. Even when I’m not there.”

“I promise.” His lips brushed your temple. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

That night, the glow of your laptop screen cast a pale light across the darkened bedroom, and the faint clicking of the trackpad was the only sound besides Hyunjin’s slow, even breathing beside you. You hadn’t meant to stay up this long. But every time you tried to close the screen, a new headline, a new thread, a new theory pulled you back in.

“Park Jiwon accepted plea deal: reduced charges.” “Former girlfriend speaks out: ‘I never thought he’d actually hurt anyone.’” “Fan communities react to Hwang Hyunjin’s attacker’s sentencing.”

Your chest ached as your fingers hovered over the trackpad. The words blurred after a while, but the unease lodged in your ribcage wouldn’t budge. Beside you, Hyunjin shifted in his sleep. The comforter had slipped low on his hips, baring his pale torso to the weak moonlight spilling through the curtains. Your eyes caught on the bandage still covering the wound just below his ribs. Even in the dim light, you could see faint bruising peeking out from the edges, the ghost of pain he rarely let show. Carefully, you set the laptop aside and turned slightly toward him. Hyunjin’s face was relaxed in sleep, hair falling onto his forehead, lips slightly parted. He looked peaceful like this, almost boyish in a way you rarely got to see anymore. But your gaze kept straying to the bandage. To the place where a knife had nearly taken him from you.

Your hand itched to reach out, to brush over the gauze gently, to convince yourself that there was only healing underneath, that there wasn’t still pain or fear or any of the horrible possibilities still gnawing at you in the dark. But you stopped yourself, your fingers curling in the fabric of his sheets instead. “I can’t lose you,” you whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible.

Hyunjin stirred faintly, his brows drawing together. You held your breath, thinking you’d woken him, but his breathing evened out again. Still, something deep in your chest twisted painfully. Because even asleep, his body curled slightly toward you, like even in unconsciousness, he couldn’t help reaching for you. Your thumb brushed over your own pinky absentmindedly, feeling the golden thread’s faint, familiar warmth there. But still, the images wouldn’t stop playing in your mind. The blood. The chaos. The sound of his ragged breathing as you pressed trembling hands to his wound. You let out a shaky exhale and buried your face in your hands, trying not to make a sound.

But then a warm hand brushed over your arm. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” His voice was low, rough with sleep.

Your head shot up. “I…sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Hyunjin blinked groggily at you, his lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. He shifted onto his back, one arm draping lazily over his stomach near the bandage. “You didn’t wake me. I think… I just knew you weren’t okay.”

“I’m fine,” you said automatically. But your voice cracked slightly, giving you away.

Hyunjin hummed softly, his eyes still half-lidded as he reached out. His fingers brushed lightly over your wrist, then curled around your hand, tugging gently until you let him pull you closer.

“Stop scrolling through articles,” he murmured, eyes flickering open fully now. “You’re just torturing yourself. Lie down. I’ll hold you.” You settled beside him carefully, your head finding its place on his bare chest, just above the steady beat of his heart. His arm curled around you protectively, his thumb tracing patterns over your shoulder. “Try to sleep,” he whispered.

But you didn’t sleep right away. Instead, you let yourself memorize every detail. The warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint scent of his shampoo. Your hand drifted without thinking, your fingers tracing a feather-light path across his chest as if memorizing every line and dip. Damn. He had gained even more muscle since you met him. But your fingers brushed the edge of the bandage. The gauze gave slightly beneath your touch, and you felt it, the rigid edge of the medical tape, the faint, wrong warmth of skin still healing.

Hyunjin flinched. Barely. A quick, sharp inhale. The kind he didn’t mean for you to notice. But you did. You jerked back immediately, like you’d been burned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, but his hand had moved, almost protectively, to press against his side. 

You sat up a little, bracing yourself on your elbow to look at him properly. The moonlight caught the sheen of sweat along his temple, the tight set of his jaw. He wasn’t fully awake, but he wasn’t sleeping anymore either. “Does it still hurt?” you asked softly.

Hyunjin hesitated. “Yeah. Sometimes.” His voice was too even. Too careful.

You hated that. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes opened then, meeting yours in the half-light. “Because you already carry enough. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, your throat tightening. “You don’t get to decide what I can carry.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He reached up, fingers brushing gently over your cheek. “I just… every time I see you look at me like I might disappear again, it’s like I’m back on that street. And I never want you to feel that helpless again.”

“But I do.” Your voice cracked, brittle. “Every single day, I still feel it. And if you’re still hurting and I don’t know…if I’m lying here thinking everything’s fine while your body’s screaming otherwise…I can help you.”

His thumb stilled against your skin. “It’s not about hiding it from you. I just didn’t want it to define us.”

You exhaled shakily, dropping your gaze to where the bandage peeked out from beneath the blanket. “But it does. Whether we say it or not. We’ll both heal eventually, but for now, we both experienced something traumatic together.”

There was silence for a moment. Not cold. Not heavy. Just real. Then, quietly, Hyunjin said, “It aches the most in the morning.” His hand dropped from your cheek and gently guided your fingers to rest over the spot. “In the mornings, before you wake, I go to the bathroom to apply the ointment the doctor gave me, then I give myself a new bandage.”

Your heart twisted as his fingers guided yours gently, letting them rest over the gauze. The heat of his skin seeped through, warmer than it should have been, and you swore you felt the faintest thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips. “You shouldn’t have to do that alone,” you whispered.

Hyunjin’s lips quirked into the barest shadow of a smile, small, tired. “It’s not that bad. Just… part of healing, I guess.”

“I want to help,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not just with… ointments and bandages. With all of it. Let me carry some of it for you, Hyunjin. Please. You’ve helped me the past two days. It’s time for me to help you.”

For a long beat, he just watched you, his thumb still tracing slow, soothing circles against the nape of your neck. Then he exhaled softly, the fight in his shoulders melting away. “Okay,” he murmured.

Carefully, you peeled the blanket back just enough to expose the gauze completely. “Can I…? I want to check it. Make sure it’s healing right.”

“You can.”

You eased the edges of the medical tape back, working gently, slowly. The bandage came away to reveal an angry, pink line carved into his skin, still ringed faintly with bruises but no longer weeping or inflamed. Relief and a fresh wave of grief crashed over you at once. You brushed your thumb along the edge of the wound, not touching it directly, but close enough to feel the heat still radiating from the tender skin.

“Looks better,” you said softly. “But you need to let it keep resting. No overdoing it, okay?”

“Is that my doctor talking?” Hyunjin teased weakly, his lips curving just a little.

You shot him a look that was half glare, half plea. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” His smile softened into something quieter, sadder, but no less warm. “And I’ll listen. This time.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Hyunjin shifted slightly, tugging you down so your head rested again on his chest, his arm curling securely around your shoulders. “You’re still trembling,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. “I know.”

“Let me hold you until it stops.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The next morning, sunlight spilled across the apartment in pale ribbons, soft and almost apologetic after the long night. You blinked awake slowly, warmth pressing against your back, an arm draped securely around your waist. Hyunjin was still asleep behind you, his breath slow and steady against your neck.

For the first time in weeks, your body felt… not calm, but not quite like a coiled spring either. Just heavy, in a way that meant rest had finally caught up with you. You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, but Hyunjin made a faint noise, his arm tightening around you instinctively. “Where’re you going?” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“I wasn’t,” you whispered. “I’m still here.”

“Good.” His words slurred a little as he buried his face in your shoulder, clearly fighting wakefulness. But then, after a beat, his voice came quieter. “You didn’t sleep much, did you?”

You hesitated. “I slept enough.”

“Not an answer.” His arm loosened slightly as he propped himself up on one elbow to look at you, his hair a soft, tangled mess. “But I’m not going to push,” he added, his voice gentling. “Not today.”

You turned to face him fully, taking in the faint shadows still clinging beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows that hadn’t quite eased even in sleep. “How’s your side?” you asked quietly.

Hyunjin’s hand brushed over the gauze lightly, testing. “Sore. Better than yesterday, though.” His lips curved faintly. “And before you ask, yes, I’ll let you help me change the bandage after breakfast.”

“Good.”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the air between you quiet but not awkward. Hyunjin’s fingers found yours under the blanket, tracing the back of your hand in absent patterns. Then, unexpectedly, his lips quirked upward. “Come with me today.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Out. A real date.” He shifted fully onto his side now, head propped in his palm as he watched your expression. “You remember what I promised? I said I’d take you to the best art gallery in all of South Korea.”

“You’re still healing,” you pointed out, brow furrowing. “Should you even be walking that much?”

“I’ll be fine. You’ll keep me from doing anything stupid, right?” His grin softened, tilting into something more earnest. “Besides… I think I need this. We both do.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” you said finally, your voice soft but unsure. “What if it’s too much for you? What if you’re pushing yourself before you’re ready?”

Hyunjin’s fingers tightened gently around yours. “I’m not trying to pretend I’m healed,” he said carefully, like he knew every word needed to land softly. “But I don’t want my life to stop because of what happened. And I don’t want yours to either.”

“I just… I don’t want you to end up back in a hospital bed because we rushed this.”

His laugh was quiet and warm. “Then don’t let me rush. Keep me slow. You’re good at that.” His free hand lifted to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “We don’t have to stay long. Just enough for me to show you the place. Enough for me to prove to myself that this, us, life, it doesn’t stop here.”

You exhaled softly, defeated by the small smile tugging at his lips. “Okay,” you said. “We’ll go.”

His grin widened, brighter this time but still laced with that lingering tenderness. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But only if you promise, no running around, no overexerting, no-”

“No heroic stunts, I know.” His thumb swept over your knuckles in a reassuring arc. “You’ll keep me on a leash if I try anything reckless.”

“You’re not joking,” you warned lightly, though the corner of your mouth twitched upward.

“Never.” He kissed the back of your hand softly before letting it go. “Now come on. You need food. I need food. And we’ve got a date to plan.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Later, after breakfast and after you carefully helped him change the bandage, your fingers brushing tenderly over bruised skin, his breath catching but not from pain, you found yourselves standing at the closet. Hyunjin was frowning at his options like they’d personally offended him. “I feel like I should wear something… artistic.”

“You’re going to an art gallery, not a fashion show.”

“Same difference.” He pulled out a flowing cream shirt, holding it up with an exaggerated flourish. “What about this? Too dramatic?”

“It’s very you,” you said diplomatically.

He smirked. “That wasn’t a no.”

You rolled your eyes and plucked the shirt from his hands. “Fine. But only if you promise to wear a mask with it. You’re still Hwang Hyunjin. If you don’t want the media there, you have to at least try to hide.”

“Yes, boss.”

Hyunjin set the shirt on the bed and turned back to the closet, his long fingers skimming over hangers as if he were choosing a canvas instead of an outfit. The early light poured in behind him, catching on the angles of his bare back. His shoulder blades flexed faintly as he reached for a pair of black slacks, and you caught yourself staring. Not just at the graceful way he moved, like every motion was deliberate, but at the faint scattering of bruises and the long, lean lines of muscle beneath pale skin. The bandage at his side was stark against him, but even that couldn’t dull the quiet beauty of him standing there in nothing but sweatpants hanging loose on narrow hips.

“You’re staring.” His voice was soft, teasing, but edged with something quieter when he glanced over his shoulder.

You blinked, heat crawling up the back of your neck. “You’re imagining things.”

“Mm.” He smirked faintly, his eyes dipping to your reflection in the mirror beside the closet. “So it’s a coincidence that your eyes are glued to my back?”

“Hyunjin.” You huffed, crossing your arms as your lips twitched. “Focus. Clothes. Date.”

He chuckled low in his chest, the sound warm and unhurried as he let the slacks slide off the hanger. “You’re right. Clothes.” But his grin turned a little wicked as he added, “Unless you’d rather we cancel and stay in.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are,” he said softly, stepping back from the closet and hooking the black pants over his arm. 

Your breath hitched faintly as he set the pants aside and began untying the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Do you…Do you want me to give you privacy?”

Hyunjin’s dark eyes lifted to meet yours across the room. He shook his head once, slowly. “Not unless you want to leave.”

You didn’t. And you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, even as he pushed the sweatpants down his hips with careful fingers. The bandage caught faintly on the fabric, and he winced, not at your gaze, but at the small tug of pain as he freed the waistband past the gauze.

“Hyunjin,” you started quietly, but he only raised a hand to stop you.

“I’m okay.” He stepped out of the pooled fabric and stood there for a moment, letting the sunlight catch over his bare thighs, his lean torso, the faint ridges of his ribs. The faint shadow of a smirk curved his lips as he reached for the slacks. “Unless you keep staring like that, and then I might not be.”

You covered your face with your hands, muffling a groan. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” 

When you peeked between your fingers, he was buttoning the cream shirt now, the fabric soft and loose as it draped over his shoulders. He left the top few buttons undone, exposing the elegant slope of his collarbones and the faint lines of muscle disappearing beneath the fabric. “You’re too calm about this,” you muttered, but there was no real bite in it.

Hyunjin tilted his head, his eyes softening as he smoothed the shirt into place. “Because you’ve already seen everything! Remember the first night you came here and we-”

“Ah. Ah. You can stop there.”

“You started it.”

“I did not.”

“You did,” he said softly, his voice low and teasing as he stopped in front of you. One hand braced lightly on the bedpost beside your hip, caging you without ever touching. “You’re the one staring like I’m a masterpiece.”

Your breath stuttered. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm. But you’re still looking.” His free hand lifted, knuckles ghosting down your jawline until his thumb brushed lightly under your chin, tilting your gaze up. His dark eyes searched yours, the playful smirk fading into something quieter. “I love it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you whispered, caught in the weight of his stare.

“Like I’m worth memorizing.” His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, feather-light. “Like you don’t care about the mess I’ve been making lately.”

“I don’t,” you said softly, almost before you realized it. “I care about you.”

The tension between you pulled taut, a fine thread ready to snap. You could feel his breath, warm against your lips, and for a second, you thought he’d lean in. But Hyunjin didn’t. “Then let me look at you,” he murmured. “Let me memorize you the way you do me.” Your pulse jumped as his fingers skimmed from your chin down to your collarbone, tracing the edge of your shirt. “Do you want me to help you pick something to wear?” His voice was teasing, but there was an intimacy laced in it now, his touch reverent as though he already knew your answer.

“Help me how?” 

“Let me pick for you. And let me dress you.”

“Hyunjin-”

“I’ll be good,” he promised, his lips curving faintly. “Mostly.”

Your lips parted in protest, but no words came. Because there was no denying the warmth pooling low in your stomach at the thought of his long fingers fastening buttons, smoothing fabric over your shoulders with slow, deliberate care. “Fine,” you whispered. “But only because we’re already running late.”

His smile deepened, not cocky this time, but soft. Like he couldn’t believe you’d let him. His fingers brushed the hem of your shirt, testing, waiting for you to pull away. When you didn’t, he tugged gently, his knuckles grazing your skin as the fabric lifted inch by inch. “Arms up,” he murmured. You complied, and he pulled your shirt free, his fingertips skimming lightly over your sides as he tossed the garment aside. His gaze flickered, meeting your eyes, checking for hesitation, but when he found none, he let his eyes drift lower. “Perfect,” he said softly, like it wasn’t even meant for you to hear. Next came your pants. Hyunjin’s fingers found the waistband, his thumbs sliding over the soft fabric before he began easing them down, careful, slow, like he was memorizing every inch of skin revealed. When they pooled at your ankles, he crouched slightly, helping you step out of them.

He stood again, his eyes drinking you in, but there was no rush, no sharp hunger. Just warmth. Adoration. His hands cupped your face as he murmured, “You’re all I see.” Then his lips met yours, and everything else faded. The sunlight spilling across the room. The faint hum of the city outside. Even the worry that had lived in your chest for weeks melted away under his touch.

You barely felt him walking you back toward the bed until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you sank down, pulling him with you. His weight settled over you, careful not to press too hard against his healing side. One hand tangled in your hair, the other tracing lazy, lingering patterns down your arm.

Hyunjin kissed you again, slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. You let yourself get lost in him, in his closeness, his quiet sighs, the way he whispered your name like a promise. “Fuck…I didn’t mean for this to happen right now,” he murmured against your lips. “We’re supposed to be leaving. I told you I’d behave.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse thundering in your ears as you tried to catch your breath. “Then stop kissing me like that.”

Hyunjin huffed a soft laugh, though there was no real amusement in it. “I can’t help it.” His thumb brushed your lower lip, lingering there like he wasn’t ready to let go. “You make it impossible.”

Your hands slid up to frame his face, fingers threading through his hair. “Then stay here,” you whispered. “Just for a little while.”

His eyes softened, dark lashes lowering as his forehead rested fully against yours. “If I stay, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”

You could feel the golden thread tugging between your pinkies again, hot, insistent, alive. It pulsed in time with the frantic rhythm of your heart, anchoring you both in the moment. “Then don’t stop,” you breathed.

For a beat, he just stared at you, his lips parted, his expression raw, undone in a way you’d only seen once before, on that night in the hospital when he’d first woken up and realized you were there. “God,” he whispered, his voice breaking faintly. “You’re going to ruin me.”

Then his mouth was on yours again, deeper this time, more desperate, though still careful, like he was memorizing each pass of your lips. His hand traced from your cheek down your neck, skimming over your collarbone as if committing every inch of you to memory. Your fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer until his body pressed more fully to yours. You felt the heat of him everywhere, the faint hitch of his breath when your palm brushed over the bandage on his side.

He groaned again softly, his lips moving to your jaw, then your neck, where he pressed slow, reverent kisses that made your toes curl. “I’ll be careful,” he murmured against your skin, as though sensing your hesitation, your quiet fear of hurting him. “I promise.”

“Hyunjin…” Your voice trembled as his fingers found the waistband of your underwear, lingering there, waiting.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. “If it’s too much…if you’re not ready, I’ll stop right now.”

But you shook your head, your hand covering his where it hovered. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Something in his expression shifted, desire flaring bright and sharp, tempered by that endless tenderness only he seemed capable of. “Then let me take care of you,” he said softly. “Let me make you forget, just for a little while.” You nodded, and he smiled against your lips. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady now. “Just us. Just this. Nothing else matters.”

And when his hands slid lower, it felt like the first time in weeks you could finally breathe.

General Taglist: @moonlitcelestial @akindaflora @beppybeesnuggets @rylea08 @yxna-bliss @felixsonlyrealwife @wolfs-howling @velvetmoonlght @rougegenshin @ilovvesleepp @qwonyoung23 @imagine-all-the-imagines @hhwangsmoon

Soulmate Series Taglist: @eridanuswave @dlizzzy @allenajade-ite @crazy4books1 @i-am-fork @btch8008s @offl-ine @robinnotgood24 @hwangrfrnd @natvlad93 @beal-o @i-bitch-you-bitch

[littlejoyss]

The urge to write a fic based off Chappel's new song but I'm currently writing like five things right now

[littlejoyss]

chance part 8

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms."

Stray Kids - Hyunjin x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count: 33k

previous part <- current part -> next part (coming soon!) | masterlist

“I know you showered already, but do you want me to draw you a bath? Or do you want me to go to the store and get you face masks and new nail polish?” Hyunjin was rubbing your head while you lay on his bed. You blinked up at him from where you were curled on your side, the softness of his comforter cocooning you like it had conspired with Hyunjin to keep you there. Your throat still ached from crying.

“Why are you like this?” you croaked, your voice raw but touched with the faintest edge of bewilderment.

Hyunjin’s lips curved, not into his usual smirk, but something gentler. He was sitting cross-legged beside you, one hand carding lazily through your hair as if you were something fragile he didn’t dare rush. “Like what?”

“Sweet.”

“I want to be. For you,” he murmured, still stroking your hair in slow, soothing passes. 

The golden thread between your pinkies pulsed faintly, warm and insistent even now, a quiet reminder of how far you’d let him in. You pressed your face into his pillow, muffling the shaky laugh that escaped before you could stop it. “I don’t need a bath. Or face masks. Or nail polish. I just…” You trailed off, words sticking in your throat.

“You just what?” His voice was impossibly soft now, careful like he didn’t want to scare you off.

“I just need… this.”

Hyunjin didn’t ask for clarification. Didn’t press. He only nodded slightly, his hand sliding down to rest at the nape of your neck where his thumb resumed its lazy circles. “Then this is all we’ll do.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t tense this time. It was quiet. Hyunjin shifted slightly, lying down beside you without closing the distance further, like he was giving you room to breathe. “I can tell you about the art I’m planning to make if you want,” he said softly after a few minutes. “Or I can just stay quiet and let you rest.”

You glanced at him, your lashes still damp. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know,” he replied simply, meeting your gaze with that same calm steadiness that had undone you earlier. “But I want to.”

A beat passed. Then another. Finally, your resolve cracked just a little more, and you reached out under the covers, your fingers brushing against his hand before curling loosely around it. Hyunjin didn’t move for a second, like he was making sure it wasn’t an accident, then laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me about your art,” you whispered.

Hyunjin’s eyes softened, a quiet light flickering there like you’d handed him something delicate and he knew not to crush it. His thumb traced an absent-minded pattern against your knuckles as he exhaled slowly like he was settling into the idea of being vulnerable, too. “I’ve been thinking about hands lately,” he began quietly. “Drawing them, painting them. Not perfectly posed ones, though, messy ones. Hands that are ink-stained, scarred, trembling. Hands gripping someone else’s, or reaching for something they’re scared they’ll never hold. You know?”

You hummed faintly, your head sinking further into his pillow. “Because hands say more than faces sometimes.”

His lips curved into a small smile at that. “Exactly.”

“I want to do a series on connection,” he continued, his voice soft, like it wasn’t meant for anyone but you. “Not the obvious kind. Not the big, cinematic moments. I mean… the little ones. The ones most people don’t notice. Someone is tucking a strand of hair behind another’s ear. Fingers brushing when passing a cup of tea. A pinky hooked through someone else’s without thinking. Those quiet gestures that somehow mean everything.”

“Sounds… beautiful,” you murmured, your thumb grazing over the back of his hand now without realizing it.

“I think it could be,” Hyunjin said. His gaze flicked briefly to your face, and you could feel the heat of it even with your eyes half-lidded. “But maybe it’s selfish too.”

“Why?”

“Because I think I’m really just trying to figure out…” His words faltered, then he laughed quietly, a little self-conscious. “Trying to figure out how to capture this. Right now. You. Me. Whatever’s happening here.”

“Would you let me?” Hyunjin asked suddenly.

You blinked at him, confused. “Let you what?”

“Paint your hands.” His voice was almost shy now, a softness creeping in around the edges of his usual confidence. “I want to remember them like this. Not perfect. Just… human. Holding on.”

Your heart lurched painfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe. But you didn’t say no.”

You pressed your face back into the pillow, hiding the heat that had crept into your cheeks. “Just don’t make me look like a tragic muse or whatever.”

“Deal,” Hyunjin whispered, squeezing your hand gently.

“And you have to show me the sketch that you did of me the other night.”

“It’s still not done yet! Art takes time.”

You both chuckled. You didn’t know how long you lay there like that, his thumb still tracing lazy patterns over your skin, his voice low and warm as he rambled about colors and textures and the way he wanted to make people feel like they could step inside his paintings and find pieces of themselves there.

At some point, your eyelids grew heavy. At some point, your fingers loosened around his. But before you drifted fully into sleep, you felt the faintest press of his lips against your knuckles and heard him whisper, so quietly you almost thought you dreamed it, “I’m already finding pieces of myself in you.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The shrill buzz of your phone shattered the stillness. You jolted awake, your heart hammering, the comfort of Hyunjin’s warm hand curled loosely in yours replaced instantly with a rush of adrenaline.

Hyunjin stirred beside you, his lashes fluttering as he shifted slightly on his side. “What is it?” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

You fumbled for the phone on the nightstand, your fingers trembling as you swiped to answer. “Yeah?”

“This is Agent Yoon with ShieldPoint.” The voice on the other end was crisp, professional. “The police have him. The man who attacked your client is in custody.”

For a beat, the words didn’t register. They just hung there, sharp and cold, slicing through the haze of sleep like a blade. “You’re sure?” Your voice cracked, your hand gripping the edge of the mattress so hard your knuckles ached.

“Positive. He was picked up an hour ago on a weapons charge. We ran his prints. He’s a match.”

Hyunjin had gone still beside you, his dark eyes fixed on your face as he tried to figure out what the call was about. 

“What do you want me to do?” you asked, your tone tight, professional, though your chest felt like it was about to cave in.

“Standby for more info. We’ll send you the details when we receive them. The plan is to get him to plead guilty to the crime, but if not, your client might have to come back for trial. But… It’s over. At least for now. “

Over. The word echoed hollowly in your chest as you ended the call and lowered the phone slowly into your lap.

“Who was it?” Hyunjin asked softly.

You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t. Your fingers curled in the fabric of his hoodie, you were still wearing it, and your breath came shallow, uneven. “They got him,” you said finally, your voice a whisper. “The man who… who stabbed you.”

Hyunjin’s brows drew together, but he didn’t move closer. Didn’t press. “And?”

“And nothing. For now. He’s in custody. The police are handling it.”

Hyunjin’s hand found yours again. "Then why do you look like that’s not good news?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t find the words because it wasn’t good news, not really. Not when the memory of that night was still carved so deeply into your bones that it felt like it had become a part of you. Your chest felt tight, too tight. The image slammed into you again, the blood, his pale face, the rattling breaths, and you pressed your palms hard against your eyes like you could force it back down.

Hyunjin shifted, his arm sliding carefully around your shoulders, his hand warm against the back of your neck. “Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s over. You don’t have to keep bracing for the next hit.”

But you did. You couldn’t stop. Your whole body felt coiled, ready to spring, even as Hyunjin’s thumb traced soothing circles against your nape. “I can’t shut it off,” you admitted hoarsely.

“You don’t have to,” Hyunjin murmured, his voice calm, steady, infuriatingly gentle. “Not all at once. Not alone.”

Your hands shook as you pulled away slightly, trying and failing to swallow down the rising panic. “You don’t get it, what if it’s not just him? What if there’s more? What if-”

“Then we deal with it,” Hyunjin said firmly. He reached out and gently tilted your chin until your eyes met his. “But I can’t let you burn yourself out before the fight’s even here. You’ve been carrying this for both of us. Let me carry you for a while.”

“I don’t know how,” you whispered.

“Start small.” His lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Stay here. Breathe. Let me make you tea. You can even yell at me if it helps.”

The corner of your mouth threatened to lift despite yourself. “That’s your idea of helping?”

“It’s a start.” His hand lingered warm and solid against your jaw. “You don’t have to save the whole world today. Just… let me keep you here. Safe.”

You exhaled shakily. “Tea sounds… okay.”

“Tea it is.”

He pressed a fleeting kiss to your temple before climbing off the bed. “Don’t move. I’m bringing the entire tea shelf over here if I have to.”

You watched him disappear into the kitchen, your pulse still a mess, but for the first time in weeks, your lungs didn’t feel like they were made of iron. The golden thread between you pulsed again, warm and steady, and for the first time, you didn’t try to fight it.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You looked up at him the second he walked in. “Does it hurt you too?”

“Hm?”

“The memory of it. I mean, you’re the one who got stabbed. I feel like I’m invalidating you.”

Hyunjin froze mid-step, the mug of tea in his hand. His expression softened instantly, the faintest crease appearing between his brows as he set the cup down on the nightstand and crouched in front of you again. “Hey,” he said quietly, his voice low and deliberate like he was afraid you might bolt. “You’re not invalidating me.” His fingers brushed under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. “I’m serious. You’re allowed to hurt, too. Just because the knife was in me doesn’t mean it didn’t cut you.”

You blinked hard. “But it’s not the same,” you whispered, voice fraying at the edges. “I wasn’t the one bleeding out on the street. I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t the one who almost died,” Hyunjin finished softly. “But you were the one keeping me alive. You were the one with blood on your hands, praying I’d make it. That… that stays with a person, too.”

Your throat constricted painfully. “So it does hurt you. Remembering.”

“Of course it does.” His thumb swept gently over your knuckles, grounding you. “But not the same way it hurts you. I think about it, sure. Sometimes it hits me out of nowhere, how close I came, how much I could’ve lost.” He exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. “But I’m alive. And when I remember, I don’t just see the blood or the pain. I see you. Your hands are on me. Your voice is telling me to stay awake. The thread between us was pulling so hard I thought it might snap.”

You swallowed hard, your nails digging into your palms. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“But you didn’t,” Hyunjin said firmly. “I’m still here. Because of you.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with all the words you couldn’t say. Hyunjin leaned in slightly, his forehead brushing against yours. “So don’t carry this like you’re alone in it. We both survived that night. Together.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

He handed you the mug of tea. “I made your favorite.” Hyunjin smiled softly as you took the mug from his hands, your fingers brushing his. The tea was still steaming faintly, curling wisps of warmth into the air between you. He didn’t pull away, didn’t break the fragile connection, just let his thumb graze over yours like he was anchoring you to this moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said simply. And then, softly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. It was a quick, simple peck. It wasn’t a grand, cinematic moment like in the stories. It was gentle. When he pulled back just slightly, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the soft space between. “Sorry,” he whispered, though his thumb kept stroking your cheek. “I… didn’t plan that.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, your voice barely audible. “Not for that.”

His lips curved faintly, a flicker of relief softening his features. “Then I won’t.”

General Taglist: @moonlitcelestial @akindaflora @beppybeesnuggets @rylea08 @yxna-bliss @felixsonlyrealwife @wolfs-howling @velvetmoonlght @rougegenshin @ilovvesleepp @qwonyoung23 @imagine-all-the-imagines @hhwangsmoon

Soulmate Series Taglist: @eridanuswave @dlizzzy @allenajade-ite @crazy4books1 @i-am-fork @btch8008s @offl-ine @robinnotgood24 @hwangrfrnd @natvlad93 @beal-o

[littlejoyss]

chance part 7

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms."

Stray Kids - Hyunjin x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count (so far): 33k

previous part <- current part -> next part | masterlist

(TW: PTSD)

You lingered under the spray of the shower far longer than necessary, the water running over your skin in waves too hot to be comfortable. It wasn’t enough to wash away the heat of his hands, the taste of his lips, or the memory of what he felt like inside of you. This was supposed to be simple. You repeated the rules to yourself like a mantra, but they’d already cracked at the seams the moment you let him kiss you.

By the time you finally turned off the water and stepped out, steam clung to your skin like a second layer. You wrapped yourself in a towel and padded barefoot into the guest room. There was a folded note sitting on the nightstand. The paper was plain, his familiar handwriting scrawled across it in ink that looked almost rushed,  “Went to grab a few things at the corner store on 6th. Don’t worry, I won’t be long, also, flowers. Because I’m apparently ‘the trouble’ you accused me of being. -H”

You stared at the note for a beat too long. Flowers. He was promising to bring you flowers. The first spark of irritation bloomed sharp and fast in your chest. He left. Alone. You tightened your grip on the towel. Hyunjin had been stabbed less than two weeks ago. There were still credible threats against him. And yet he thought it was fine to stroll out into public like this? As if on cue, the golden thread pulled hard. Your breath hitched. “No,” you whispered, clutching the edge of the towel like it could anchor you, but your pulse was already slamming against your ribs. “No, no, no-”

You hadn’t felt a pull like this since…  Your stomach lurched violently, a sick wave of memory crashing into you. The last time the thread had burned like this, he was bleeding out on the street. You still remembered the blood. His shirt torn open, crimson blooming under your hands as you pressed down.

You shoved the memory away so hard it left you dizzy. “Fuck,” you hissed, hands fumbling for the nearest clothes. The towel hit the floor as you yanked on leggings and a soft hoodie, Hyunjin’s, you realized belatedly, the scent of his cologne still clinging to the fabric. It made your throat tighten, but there was no time to dwell on it. Your movements were clumsy, panicked. Barely tugging the zipper halfway before you were shoving your feet into sneakers and grabbing your phone off the nightstand.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

By the time you reached the corner store, your heart was pounding so violently it hurt. You spotted him instantly through the wide glass windows, Hyunjin, standing near the register with a small basket dangling from his fingers. He had on his hat and mask, but you could look past that now and see him. And just like that, your knees almost gave out in relief. His hair was pulled back in a loose bun, a soft black hoodie slung over his tall frame, one hand holding a cup of coffee. He was completely oblivious to the fact that you’d practically sprinted three blocks with your heart lodged in your throat.

You yanked the door open so hard it startled a nearby customer. Hyunjin’s eyes landed on you, and his face lit up. “Hey,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I was gonna bring you coffee too-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you snapped before you could stop yourself. The words were too loud, too sharp, but you didn’t care. Not when the image of him bleeding out was still seared into the back of your mind.

Hyunjin blinked, startled. “I-”

“You don’t get to do this,” you hissed, storming toward him. “You don’t get to sneak out and leave some cute little note like it’s romantic while I’m left wondering if-” Your voice broke, throat tight with the weight of all the fear you’d been holding in. “If I’m going to have to patch you up again, or worse-”

“Hey, hey-” Hyunjin’s hands came up, gentle but cautious, like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him touch you. “I’m okay. I swear.”

But your chest wouldn’t stop heaving. “Do you even realize what could’ve happened?” you said, quieter now but no less shaky. “There are people out there who want you dead, Hyunjin. And you just-”

“I know,” he murmured. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, pressing a hand over your mouth as your eyes stung. God, you hated this. Hated how unprofessional you sounded, hated how raw and exposed you felt standing in the middle of a convenience store with your heart trying to claw its way out of your chest.

But Hyunjin didn’t look smug. He didn’t look amused, either. His expression softened, dark eyes searching your face with quiet regret. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said gently. “I just… I wanted to do something normal. For you.”

The words barely registered through the roar of blood in your ears. You could feel the heat of your panic coiled tight in your chest, the fine tremor in your hands refusing to settle even though you could see he was fine, standing here alive, breathing, smiling at you like he didn’t understand why your world had nearly split open in the last ten minutes.

You exhaled shakily, trying, failing, to steady yourself. “Don’t say that,” you muttered, dragging your hand down your face. “Don’t make this about me.”

Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable behind his mask, but his voice impossibly soft. “It is about you. You’re shaking.”

You stiffened, your arms crossing tight over your chest. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he said gently. “You think I can’t tell?”

“I said I’m fine,” you snapped, too sharply, but the crack in your voice betrayed you.

Hyunjin’s brow furrowed, his hand shifting like he wanted to reach for you again but stopped himself. For once, he didn’t push. Instead, he let out a soft sigh, his tone calm in the way that only made your chest squeeze harder. “Maybe we should go back to the apartment,” he suggested quietly. “We can talk there. Or not talk. Whatever you need.”

You blinked at him, startled, your panic hitching into something sharper. “I don’t need-”

“You do,” he interrupted, not unkindly. His gaze was steady now, pinning you in place even as your breath came uneven. “You’ve been carrying too much since that night. You think I haven’t noticed? Every time I so much as breathe wrong, you tense like you’re bracing for sirens.”

“I’m your bodyguard,” you said, your voice tight, brittle. “It’s my job to be alert-”

“It’s not just your job,” Hyunjin said softly, and there it was, the thing you’d been avoiding, the truth tucked neatly into the corners of his voice. “This isn’t about protocols or assignments. It’s about you. You’re scared, and you won’t let yourself process it.”

That did it. Your stomach dropped, something raw and ugly twisting deep in your chest. The golden thread between your pinkies pulsed faintly, like it was urging you to listen, to admit what you didn’t want to name. You swallowed hard, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat. “Don’t psychoanalyze me in a convenience store.”

“I’m saying you’ve been through hell too, and maybe it’s time you stopped pretending you haven’t.”

Your mouth opened. Closed. The retort caught somewhere behind your teeth. He wasn’t wrong, and that terrified you more than anything. You drew in a shaky breath and turned abruptly toward the door. “Let’s just… go,” you muttered. “Before I cause a scene.”

Hyunjin didn’t argue. He only nodded once, his fingers curling tighter around the basket as he quickly paid, then followed a step behind you out into the cool morning air.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The walk back was silent, but not comfortable. Your hands were shoved deep into the sleeves of his hoodie, your eyes fixed straight ahead as you fought to slow your breathing. Every few steps, you felt Hyunjin’s gaze flick to you, but he didn’t speak. Not until you were back inside the apartment, the door clicking shut behind you.

“Sit down,” he said gently.

You shot him a sharp look. “I don’t need-”

“Sit,” Hyunjin repeated, his voice firmer this time. Not a command, but a request laced with quiet concern.

You hesitated. Then, reluctantly, you sank onto the edge of the couch, your arms crossing tightly over your chest like they could hold you together. Hyunjin set the grocery bag on the counter and crouched in front of you, his long fingers resting loosely on his knees.

“Look at me,” he said softly. You didn’t. You couldn’t. “Please.” Your eyes flicked to his, and the quiet in them undid you.

“This isn’t just about me leaving,” Hyunjin said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “This is about what happened before. About how it felt to be there. To see that happen.”

Your chest constricted painfully. “Stop.”

“I’m not saying it to hurt you,” he said gently. “But you need to hear it. You’re holding it all inside as if you let yourself feel it, you’ll break.”

“I can’t break,” you said hoarsely, your fingers curling tight in the fabric of your sleeves. “You don’t get it. If I break, I can’t do my job. And if I can’t do my job-”

“Then I get hurt again?” Hyunjin finished softly. The words hung heavy between you, the unspoken truth wrapped around them like barbed wire.

You looked away, your vision blurring. “Exactly.”

Hyunjin exhaled slowly, his hands coming to rest gently over yours, where they were clenched tight in your lap. “Then let me say this once,” he murmured. “You didn’t fail me. You saved me. I’m standing here because of you.” Your throat tightened, the first hot tear slipping free before you could stop it. “And if you need to break, just for a little while, I’ll still be here.” His thumbs brushed lightly over your knuckles, his voice low and steady. “Let me be here for you this time.”

The golden thread pulsed hard between your pinkies, a warm, insistent tug that made something in your chest finally, finally snap. A broken sob tore from your throat before you could shove it down, and suddenly Hyunjin was there, arms wrapping around you, pulling you gently against his chest. His voice was quiet, but it landed like a strike to the ribs. “It feels like since you got this job… you’ve been doing what the police should’ve done. More than you signed up for.”

You froze in his arms, your breath catching hard enough to hurt. Hyunjin didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on you tightened slightly, not possessive, not demanding, just steady, anchoring you like he knew you were one exhale away from unraveling completely. “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “But I’ve seen the way you carry this. Like you’re not just protecting me, but trying to make up for something that wasn’t even your fault.”

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“I can’t,” Hyunjin said softly. “Not when I see you torturing yourself like this. Do you think I didn’t notice how you barely sleep? The way you flinch every time I so much as walk near a window? You’re stuck in the same night on a loop, aren’t you?”

Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt as another choked sob tore out of you. “You don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand,” he whispered, his thumb brushing at the tear streaking down your cheek. “Please. You saved me that night, but who’s been saving you?”

The question shattered something so deep it didn’t even have a name. You didn’t want to remember. But the memories clawed their way out anyway. Blood. Screaming. Your hands pressed down on his chest, slippery with red, praying to the gods as the thread between your pinkies burned. And then, the silence. The sick, endless silence of waiting for the ambulance, of listening to his breaths rattle, and wondering if each one would be his last. “I can’t do it again,” you choked out finally. “I can’t watch you die, Hyunjin. I can’t-”

“You won’t,” he said firmly, cutting through your panic with quiet conviction. “You won’t. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that,” you snapped, your voice sharp even as it trembled.

“I can promise I’ll fight like hell to keep it true,” Hyunjin countered. “And I can promise you don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

The dam broke completely. Hot tears streamed down your face as your body shook, your fingers clutching desperately onto him. You hated crying. Hated how weak it made you feel. But Hyunjin didn’t seem to mind. He just held you tighter, tucking your head beneath his chin as if he could shield you from everything, even the monsters in your own mind.

“You’re allowed to let go,” he whispered against your hair. “Just for a little while. You don’t always have to be the strong one. I can help you. I love you, okay?”

The words lodged themselves in your chest like a splinter, sharp and terrifying in their gentleness. “Hyunjin…” It came out broken, a whisper scraped raw from your throat.

“I don’t need you to say it back,” he said softly, like he’d already expected your panic, like he knew exactly how much weight those words carried for you. “Not now. Maybe not ever. But you need to know. Because whatever’s happening here,” his hand lifted to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading lightly through your damp hair, “it’s not just some game to me. I’m in this. With you.”

You shook your head weakly, your face pressed against his chest, tears soaking through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “You don’t get it,” you whispered, the words trembling out of you.

“No,” he said, firmer now, though there was no sharpness in it. “I mean, yeah, I don’t get it. But that doesn’t mean you get to carry this alone anymore. Not your guilt. Not your fear. Not whatever the hell this is between us that you keep trying to bury. You’ve been strong for so long, it’s killing you, and I can’t stand here and watch it happen.”

The sob that ripped out of you then was ugly, unrestrained. You hated how small it made you feel, but Hyunjin didn’t move. He just held you like he’d been waiting his whole life to do it, his thumb stroking lazy circles against the back of your neck as if to remind you that you were safe now.

“I can’t,” you choked out. “If I let go, I won’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop.” His breath was warm against your hair. “You don’t have to. I’ve got you.”

The flood came fast and mercilessly, tears and gasping sobs shaking you to your core. And through it all, Hyunjin stayed exactly where he was. Not as your client. Not as the man you were supposed to protect. Not as the trouble you’d warned yourself not to fall for. Just Hyunjin. 

When your sobs finally began to switch to quiet, uneven breaths, you realized he was humming. A soft, wordless tune, barely audible over the sound of your breathing, but steady enough to keep you tethered. “You’re okay,” he murmured when you finally shifted, your forehead still pressed to his shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You pulled back just slightly, enough to look at him. His dark eyes searched your face, tender and unreadable, and before you could stop yourself, your fingers curled lightly around his wrist where his hand still rested against your jaw. “This… this doesn’t change anything,” you whispered hoarsely, though even you could hear how hollow the words sounded.

Hyunjin’s lips quirked into the faintest smile. “Then let it change nothing,” he said gently. “But let yourself rest. Just for today.”

You exhaled shakily, your resolve crumbling as his thumb brushed along your cheekbone one last time. “Okay,” you whispered.

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[littlejoyss]

Omg manchild was ADORABLE!!! IS IT BAD THAT I GIGGLED AT THEIR BANTER AS MUCH AS THE GUYS? THEN THE PARTS WHERE HES CLEARLY NOT PLAYING AND YN SLOWLY FALLING AHHHHHHHHHH

alsoo..can I request a part 2 for this or maybe an epilogue. I want to see the prince and princess of this group happily together and yn finally accepting that yes she loves him and yes he loves her back pretty please with a bow on top?

Okay back to the soulmate au I have some catching up to do. Have a great rest of your day night etc🥰

(Adding my taglist because I need ideas)

YESS! I'm so glad many people enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It was supposed to be a short little thing...but as you can see I got too excited and wrote a LOT.

I was just thinking about this today. I have attempted to start drafting part two, but I'm struggling. So...what would you guys want to see in part two? I'm not going to guarantee all your ideas will end up in part two, but I need some inspo. Go ahead and go crazy in the comments!

Also, yes, I'm still working on my soulmates series, this is just a nice little break for me. I'm glad you guys are enjoying that too! ☺️

General Taglist: @moonlitcelestial @akindaflora @beppybeesnuggets @rylea08 @yxna-bliss @felixsonlyrealwife @wolfs-howling @velvetmoonlght @rougegenshin @ilovvesleepp @qwonyoung23 @imagine-all-the-imagines

[littlejoyss]

chance part 6

“A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms."

Stray Kids - Hyunjin x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count: 33k

previous part <- current part -> next part (coming soon!) | masterlist

“You know,” you spoke as you started opening up the food boxes you ordered. “I kind of expected you to be more suave than awkward.”

He sat down next to you at the dining table. “Oh, honey, I can show you suave. I’m just not used to the whole soulmate thing yet.” Hyunjin’s words lingered in the air, wrapped in that teasing lilt that was uniquely his, though you didn’t miss the faint pink creeping up his ears. 

You arched a brow at him, smirking as you slid a container of japchae across the table. “Oh really? Then maybe you should demonstrate this suave side of yours. I could use a good laugh.”

He let out a mock-offended gasp, pressing a hand dramatically over his heart. “A laugh? You wound me. You’re telling me you don’t believe I have it in me?”

You quirked your lips, fighting the grin threatening to betray you. “So far, all I’ve seen is a man who nearly passed out trying to spear a melon in a hospital bed.”

Hyunjin groaned, dragging his hand down his face. “Okay, that’s not fair. I was recovering from being stabbed.”

You chuckled softly, grabbing chopsticks from the takeout bag. “Excuses, excuses.”

But when you looked up, the laughter caught in your throat. Hyunjin wasn’t smiling this time. His gaze was fixed on you, a quiet intensity softening the edges of his face. “You know,” he said softly, his voice dropping low enough that it curled in your chest like warm smoke, “I might be awkward…for now…but I’m very good at reading people.”

You froze, chopsticks hovering over your box of tteokbokki. “And what exactly are you reading right now?”

“That you’re just as terrified of this as I am.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “I’m saying that because… I want you to know it’s okay. I’m scared too. This isn’t how I imagined meeting my soulmate either.”

You set the chopsticks down carefully, fingers curling into your palms. The golden thread hummed faintly between your pinkies as if echoing the weight of his words. “What did you imagine?” you asked quietly.

Hyunjin’s lips twitched into a faint smile, wistful and tinged with sadness. “Not this. Not hospital beds and security details, and conversations about safety protocols. I thought it would be… I don’t know. Simple. Beautiful. The kind of thing you read about in songs.”

You swallowed hard, the tension in your chest making it difficult to breathe. “And now?”

“Now I realize real connections don’t happen like that.” His eyes held yours steadily, even as his voice softened. “They happen when someone sees you at your lowest and stays anyway.”

Your fingers itched to reach for him, but you stopped yourself, curling them into a fist.  You let out a shaky breath, grabbing the tteokbokki and focusing far too hard on mixing the sauce around. “We should eat. Food’s getting cold.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, quietly, “You’re right. But just so you know, I’m not giving up.”

“On what?”

“I’m not giving up on figuring this out. On you.” His voice was steady now, with no trace of the earlier teasing. “I meant what I said. I really like you. And I’m willing to take things slow. As slow as you need.”

You looked away before he could see your expression. “We’ll see.”

He smirked, “See if I can figure you out or if we need to take it slow?”

Your eyes flicked back to him at that, catching the faint curve of his mouth, the kind of smirk that felt dangerous, like it held secrets you weren’t ready to confront. Your chest tightened, heat curling low in your stomach despite the way you tried to shove it down. Damn, his pretty face.

“Both,” you said sharply, though it came out softer than you intended. “We’ll see for both.”

Hyunjin’s smirk deepened, but his gaze stayed locked on yours. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his long fingers tapping idly on the table’s edge, his movements loose but deliberate. “Fair enough,” he murmured. “But you should know…”

You raised a brow, forcing yourself to take another bite of food so you wouldn’t do something stupid like trace the lines of his hand with your eyes. “Know what?”

“I’m not very patient when I already know what I want.”

The chopsticks faltered in your grip. He noticed, of course, his dark eyes flickered briefly to your hands before returning to your face with quiet amusement. You set the chopsticks down with more force than necessary and inhaled, willing your pulse to slow. “You’re still recovering,” you said, and it was meant to sound dismissive, but it came out too breathy, too uneven.

“I am,” Hyunjin agreed easily. “But wanting doesn’t require energy. Just honesty.”

“Where did this side of Hyunjin come from?”

Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were one of his half-finished canvases. “You told me yourself you were expecting me to be more suave.”

“Right…but I wasn’t expecting a flip like a switch…” You started, but words failed you, heat crawling up your neck until you had to glance away. “We should really…eat.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pulling his hand back and leaning back in his chair with a knowing little smile. “You’re right. Food first.” 

Hyunjin didn’t push after that. Not directly. Instead, he let the conversation drift into safer territory, commenting on the ridiculous amount of food you’d ordered, teasing you for choosing so much spicy tteokbokki when you “could barely handle hospital pepper packets,” and laughing quietly when you tried to defend yourself. But the tension never left. Not when his knee brushed yours under the table and didn’t immediately pull away. Not when his long fingers skimmed yours as he passed you a water bottle, lingering just a second too long to be purely accidental. Not when his gaze settled on you between bites, assessing in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness.

“You keep staring,” you muttered finally, trying and failing to sound unbothered.

“I’m not staring,” Hyunjin countered, though the corner of his mouth curved. “I’m observing.”

“Observing what exactly?”

“You,” he said simply. His voice had that soft, low quality again, like warm silk sliding over exposed skin. “You get this little crease in your brow when you’re trying not to look nervous.”

Your lips parted, heat crawling up your neck. “I’m not nervous.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes dancing. “Then you’re cautious. Again.”

You let out a soft, frustrated huff and went back to your noodles, trying to ignore the burn in your cheeks. But then you heard him chuckle under his breath, it only made it worse. “Stop laughing at me,” you grumbled, reaching for your drink.

“I’m not,” Hyunjin said, still smiling. “It’s just…cute.”

Cute? “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” His tone was light, but his gaze was anything but. There was something there now, something unspoken, coiled tight like a spring. “Is it against protocol, too?”

You swallowed hard, clutching the glass a little tighter than necessary. “Hyunjin…”

“I know,” he said softly, holding up his hands as though surrendering. “Too fast. Too much.” Hyunjin leaned back in his chair, breaking the tension with a sigh. “Alright. No more intense staring. You’ll file a complaint with ShieldPoint or something.”

A startled laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it. “That’s…not how it works.”

“Oh, so there’s a loophole?” His grin widened, mischievous now. “Good to know.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t miss the warmth blooming in your chest, stupid, dangerous warmth that only grew stronger as the evening stretched on.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

By the time the dishes were cleared and you both drifted to the couch, the air between you had softened. The TV played quietly in the background, some lighthearted drama neither of you was really watching. Hyunjin had a sketchpad balanced on his knees, a pencil moving lazily across the page.

“What are you drawing?” you asked finally, unable to help your curiosity.

He glanced up at you, then back down at the pad. “Nothing important.”

“Liar.”

“Alright,” he admitted with a quiet laugh. “You.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Me?”

“Mm.” He didn’t look at you, his pencil still scratching across the paper. “You’re sitting still for once. It’s rare.”

“I’m not-” you started, but caught yourself when you realized he was right. You weren’t scanning doors or windows. You weren’t analyzing exits. You were just… sitting. The thought unsettled you almost as much as it soothed you. “You’re not going to show me, are you?” you asked, voice low.

“Not yet.” His smile was faint, but his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “Maybe when it’s finished.”

Silence settled between you again. Comfortable. Almost intimate. And then his hand moved, slow and deliberate, to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered for just a second longer than necessary, tucked the lock behind your ear with a tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine. He chuckled at the face you made. “I couldn’t see your eyes well enough to draw.” The corners of his mouth curved faintly, that dangerous, knowing little smile. His thumb brushed your jawline lightly before retreating, and you swore you could still feel the warmth of his skin there even after his hand dropped back to his sketchpad.

“You…” you started, but the words tangled in your throat.

“Me?” His voice was soft now, teasing but with an undercurrent of heat, as though he was testing how much closer he could get without breaking whatever fragile truce you’d drawn between professionalism and this pull that neither of you could ignore anymore.

“You’re trouble,” you muttered finally.

His smirk deepened. “And yet, you’re still sitting here.”

The golden thread between your pinkies pulsed faintly, warm and insistent like it was agreeing with him, like it was laughing at your weak attempts at restraint. “You really like pushing limits, don’t you?” you said, narrowing your eyes slightly even as heat crawled up the back of your neck.

“Not limits,” Hyunjin murmured. He shifted slightly, his thigh brushing yours as he angled the sketchpad away from view. “I like… discovering where you stop pretending.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The words, the proximity, the subtle graze of his leg against yours, they were all pulling at you, unraveling careful layers you’d kept wound tight since the moment this assignment began.  “You’re still recovering,” you managed finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

“And yet I feel great right now,” Hyunjin said, his tone light but his eyes holding that same quiet intensity. “Strange, isn’t it?”

You huffed, shaking your head, but you didn’t move away. You couldn’t. A few moments passed like that. His pencil scratched faintly against the page, though you weren’t convinced he was really drawing anymore. And then you felt it, his pinky brushing yours. Barely a touch. Feather-light. But it sent a spark skittering up your arm all the same. You froze. So did he. Neither of you pulled away. He sighed. “You look tense.”

“No shit.”

Hyunjin’s lips curved, not into his usual smirk this time, but something softer, warmer. “Then let me help.”

Before you could ask what he meant, his fingers shifted from where they lingered near yours. They traced gently along the back of your hand, slow and unhurried, as if asking for permission without words. His touch was featherlight, but it left a trail of heat in its wake.

“Hyunjin…” Your voice was a warning, but it was weak. Pathetic even. And he heard it. God, of course, he heard it.

“You can tell me to stop.” His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, and it wrapped around you like silk. 

You didn’t want to. Your chest rose and fell too fast, the golden thread between you glowing faintly like it had a mind of its own. Your mind screamed at you to move, to pull back, to say something, anything, to break this unbearable tension. But your body? Your body betrayed you. Hyunjin’s thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, and your lips parted on instinct, a shaky breath escaping before you could stop it. That was all it took.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft at first. Testing. Like he wasn’t sure how far you’d let him go. But when you didn’t pull away, when your hands fisted in the fabric of his t-shirt, he deepened it. His free hand cupped your jaw gently, tilting your head to angle him closer, his thumb brushing slow, teasing strokes along your cheek. His lips moved against yours with a control that made your stomach clench, like he was savoring every second, like he didn’t want to rush this, even though you could feel how much he wanted to.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You knew you shouldn’t. But when his teeth grazed your lower lip and his breath hitched against your mouth, all thoughts of professionalism dissolved like sugar in hot tea. The golden thread pulsed hard between you now, warm and insistent, tightening like it was stitching the two of you closer with every second that passed.

Hyunjin pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you breathing hard. His eyes fluttered open, dark and blown wide with heat. “Still tense?” he whispered, his lips brushing yours with each word.

“Shut up,” you managed, though it came out breathless and shaky, and your grip on his shirt betrayed you.

“Thought so.”

And then he kissed you again. This time, there was no hesitation. This time, it was urgent as his hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, drawing you impossibly closer. His thigh pressed against yours firmly now, anchoring you when your fingers slid up to his shoulders, clinging like he was the only solid thing left in the world.

You didn’t know when you ended up half in his lap, and you didn’t care. All you cared about was Hyunjin, his lips, his hands, the low sound he made when you tilted your head just right, and the golden thread weaving tighter, brighter as if it had been waiting for this all along.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You didn’t sleep in the guest room that night.

The apartment was quiet in that peculiar way only early mornings could bring. The golden hue of the sunrise slipped lazily through the sheer curtains, casting the kitchen in a warm glow as you stood barefoot on the cool tiles. Hyunjin’s Versace robe swallowed you whole, the silk fabric brushing your thighs as you reached for a mug. Your fingers trembled faintly as you poured the coffee, though whether it was from exhaustion or something else entirely, you weren’t sure.

The events of last night replayed in your head like a forbidden song, his lips trailing down your neck, the soft rasp of his voice against your ear, the way the golden thread had thrummed so violently between you it felt like it might snap from the sheer force of it all. And now here you were, at 5 a.m., trying desperately to untangle the knot in your chest that felt both like regret and something far more dangerous.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

You jumped slightly, the coffee sloshing dangerously in your cup. Hyunjin’s voice was hoarse from sleep, soft yet heavy with that quiet intimacy that only comes after you’ve shared too much of yourself with someone. He leaned against the doorway in nothing but sweatpants, his hair messy, eyes still hazy with sleep. 

“You scared me,” you muttered, gripping the mug tighter.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

Silence stretched between you for a beat too long. Then, Hyunjin’s gaze drifted lower, to where his robe hung loosely on your shoulders, sleeves pushed up to your elbows. His smile deepened just slightly, though there was no smugness in it this time, just a softness that made your stomach twist. “You look good in that,” he said quietly.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your skin heated beneath the silk. “It was on the floor. I didn’t exactly have many options.”

He chuckled, padding barefoot across the kitchen tiles to join you. You took a cautious step back, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned lazily against the counter beside you, his fingers brushing against yours. “You’re overthinking,” he murmured after a moment, his voice low.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” His head turned, and you found his dark eyes on you, soft but unflinching. “You’re trying to rewind and erase it all in your head. Tell yourself last night was a mistake.”

“It was a mistake,” you said sharply, though it came out more like a whisper.

“Really?” Hyunjin’s gaze dropped to your lips for just a second, barely there, but enough for your heart to lurch painfully against your ribs. “Because it didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

“Hyunjin.”

He straightened slightly, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. “I meant what I said yesterday. I like you. I’m not going to pretend I don’t just because it’s inconvenient for your own mental rules.”

You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

“Maybe not.” He tilted his head slightly, his voice softening. “But when has life ever gone how it’s supposed to? I’m not asking for forever. Not yet. Just… don’t shut me out. Not after last night.”

Your throat tightened painfully. You should say no. You should. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just stared down at your coffee as if it held the answers to questions you weren’t ready to ask. “...I’m going to shower,” you said finally, pushing off the counter. Hyunjin didn’t stop you. He only watched, quiet and unreadable, as you brushed past him, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging stubbornly to the robe.

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