lveegsoi

[lveegsoi]

OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO GOOD. such an interesting plot for a fanfic. i love how you wrote it

date changbin!

pairing: seo changbin x afab!reader

warnings: established relationship, does this count as poly??? or a crack fic?? lol, look at all those changbins!!!, eventual smut, kissing, sexual tension, sexy pre-workout stretching, sexy bathing, humping, rule 63, lingerie, nipple licking, oral (m rec), slight possessive dirty talk, cowgirl position, very light choking, unprotected sex

a/n: happy birthday sweet bin <3 this fic is based off of the game date everything! with a few of my own little twists, plus a very special surprise guest sprinkled in here that some of you might enjoy seeing again. this is a lot more lighthearted than my bin bday fic from last year lol, and it’s probably a little silly actually, but i had a lot of fun writing it. pls let me know what you think. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated :)

w/c: 18.6k

the jingle of keys, the shuffle of shoes, a fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead right after pouted lips meet yours in a quick farewell. you can hear the door open as he goes to leave, but it doesn’t close. 

“oh?” changbin muses, loud voice muffled only by the rooms now between you.

his keys jingle again faintly when he bends down, his shoes shuffle once more, back towards the kitchen and back towards your spot at the table again, a rubbery squeak thrown into the mix of mundane, early morning noises as the bottom of a platform croc catches on the linoleum. you lift your eyes to see him holding a box, walking slowly enough to concentrate on reading the label on the package. 

“here, it says it’s for you. were you expecting something?” you answer his question with a shake of your head and a slight frown on your lips. there’s no return label on the box, no identifying markers other than your name and address, and it’s light enough to pick up and shake. something clunks inside, rustles like it’s padded by tissue paper. 

the tape wrapping the box doesn’t give easily under your prying fingers, so you hand it back to changbin for him to slice it open with his keys. right down the middle he does, huffing as he uses his strength to finish opening the remaining flaps of cardboard on the sides with two calloused hands, tape popping apart loudly under the force of them. you look into the box together then, two peas in a pod, heads almost colliding in your hurry to lean into each other. 

the box is small enough that you can see its contents right away. pink tissue paper, wrinkled and messy like it was stuffed inside with haste. sitting in the middle of the rumpled tissue paper though, is a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. 

they’re… nice. not necessarily your style, but they’re not ugly. you can tell they’re new, the lenses and legs are free of fingerprints and scratches like so many of your well-loved glasses don’t have the luxury of anymore. they’re objectively nice glasses, but the fact of the matter is, you didn’t order them. 

“are you sure these aren’t for you?” you ask, looking up at changbin where he stands over you. “not like a… brand deal?” 

you check the label on the opened box again and sure enough, it’s your name listed on it, not his. changbin still responds to your silly, obvious question with a genuine answer. 

he hums, purses his lips. “hmm, no, i don’t think so. those are usually sent straight to the company. you didn’t order them?” 

you’d remember ordering them if you did; you’d definitely remember ordering something you wouldn’t typically wear. maybe you won it somewhere? maybe a small online shop you frequent sent you a free gift? did changbin order them for you? it’s not unheard of; changbin enjoys surprising you with things, indulgent when it comes to spoiling you with gifts he thinks you’ll like. but he’s never played possum before, always open and honest when it comes to you. 

“i didnt order them. did you order them?” you look up at him again, and his eyebrows furrow. he takes a closer look into the box to study the glasses and ultimately decides that no, he didn’t order them. the shake of his head tells you so. 

changbin’s phone chimes before he can give you a verbal answer though, and he hisses through his teeth. 

“ah, i need to go.” he stands up straight but leans into your side to smack a kiss against your cheek. “i can take them to the studio if you want. hannie might like them.” 

you take the glasses out of the box and put them on, blinking to adjust your vision to the warm hue of the lenses. the yellow tint doesn’t bother your eyes as much as you thought it would. 

“o-oh, oh my god,” you say seriously, waving your hand in front of your face and gasping. 

“what?!” 

changbin’s eyes widen. his pupils shake as he looks you up and down to figure out your problem. 

“it can’t be! these- these glasses! your clothes are gone. i can see you naked!” 

his hand slaps the table. “yah!” changbin hollers, bellow petering off into a goofy laugh at the end. “yah, you’re bad. you scared me! you’re lucky if you ever see me naked again.” changbin huffs when you join in his laughter, but there’s a satisfied grin tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, baby,” you placate. the glasses creak on your face as you tuck your cheek into his chest, wrapping your arms around him in a hug that he easily reciprocates despite his posturing. “i’ll keep ‘em for now, but thank you though. now go! you’re gonna be late.” 

changbin leaves with one last kiss to your forehead and a sweet squeeze around your shoulders. 

the jingle of keys, the shuffle of shoes. one last goodbye called over his shoulder before the door slams shut behind him on his way out. the thud of the front door leaves you in an achingly quiet house, so suddenly devoid of that easy laughter and booming voice you love so dearly that the sound of it closing seems to reverberate straight through your bones. your home feels so empty with him gone. it feels empty even though you’re standing in the middle of it, space wide and echoing like it’s missing something important, only made full when your one becomes two again, so full that the floors creak and the rafters pop.

you take hold of your own keys and grab your wallet. you should get out for a bit, order a coffee or something sugary sweet to take your mind off of a quiet house. your index finger nudges the glasses back up the bridge of your nose as you make your way to the door changbin walked out of just moments ago. 

the doorknob shocks you when you touch it, and you snatch your hand away with a curse. 

“allow me.” 

the voice is familiar, of course it is, the bulky stature is as well. what isn’t familiar though, is the chocolatey brown suit that dons his figure, the gelled quiff to his dark hair that exposes his forehead. 

changbin stands with his shoulders squared and one hand crossed over the other in front of him, ducking his chin in a light bow when your wide eyes finally meet his. he gestures to the door like he’s politely telling you that you’re standing in the way. there’s an earpiece in one ear, bright pink and fitted, connected to a coiling wire that’s dipping down into the collar of his pristine suit. 

“huh?” you ask dumbly. you look him up and down, and when you look back up at his handsome, round face, his ears are tinted pink. “you-? but? you were wearing that stupid shirt?” 

that god forsaken dinosaur tee changbin loves so much. the dinosaur and his very good friend, the statue of liberty. your memory doesn’t serve you well all the time, but there’s no way you could forget that shirt. 

“ah, you- you don’t like it?” changbin stutters. he runs his hands down his white collared shirt underneath the suit jacket, straightens out any nonexisting wrinkles he thinks you must see, and adjusts his stained glass tie. “i had it ironed! i thought you would- ah. hm,” he coughs. “nonsense! you were headed somewhere, dormouse?” 

you shake your head like that will wake you from your stupor. changbin still stands before you, blinking slowly as if he’s waiting for your answer. it’s only when you remove your new glasses to rub closed fists against the corners of your surely dazed eyes does he disappear completely from your vision, just as quick as he came. you look around the entryway to find yourself alone, gawking at the empty space before you. all you can see is the dark wood of your front door, the stained glass of its window.  

“what the fuck,” you intone. changbin is cocking his head at you when he appears again, right when you put the glasses back on. “what the fuck? seo changbin, are you messing with me? i just watched you leave!” 

“did you?” he asks. changbin frowns, his head cocking the other way now. “well, that can’t be right. i’ve been here all morning! shift starts bright and early, you never know when someone’s going to come knocking.” something seems to click then, and changbin snaps his fingers. “oh! oh, you think i’m- ahhh. that makes sense.” changbin straightens himself up, rights his shoulders again so the breadth of them spans the doorway. he peers at you with a friendly smile and a tilt to his chin. “i’m changbin. not that changbin, just… me changbin. it’s- wow, what a blessing it is to finally meet you officially. we pass each other every day, but i never thought i’d have the chance to really introduce myself.” 

“a-and that’s because…?” you blink rapidly, sputter a little bit. 

“well because you’re always in a rush! sometimes you even forget to- ah…” he gestures with his hands, miming a key turning in the lock of a door knob. he shivers then, a dreamy smile blooming on his lips, cheeks pink. “you don’t have to worry about that though, i handle it when you’re gone — it’s my job to protect the house when you’re away, and you can trust me to do it well! i’m a much more dependable door since the two of you fixed my hinges.” 

you’ve lost your marbles, every single one of them. 

“you mean to tell me that i’m standing here talking to my front door?” 

he nods excitedly then but is quick to take your disbelief a step further. 

“that’s right! well, not just your front door. i’m all of them, really. you can never be too safe.” changbin presses his lips together resolutely and nods once. “listen, i really shouldn’t continue slacking on the job like this, and i can’t help but be distracted by you, dormouse. can i… see you again soon? can i open up to you when there’s more time?” 

you’ve lost your marbles, every single one of them, but you can’t say no to those sweet, pleading eyes or that dulcet voice. in all the years you’ve been together, you’ve never been able to, and that hasn’t seemed to change even though this particular changbin is… different than the one you’re used to. your voice has left you — all you can do is nod. changbin takes it in stride. 

“i’m so thankful, i promise you won’t regret it. ah, well. it was a pleasure to finally speak with you, my dormouse darling. if you need me, just knock, alright? any door in the house. i’ll be there.” 

changbin’s hands curl over one another as you dazedly turn away from him, his gaze hardening in a straightforward, focused stare. his smile is gone, replaced by a curt pout of his lips. they look so small like that. 

you return to the kitchen to put your keys and wallet back in the bowl, sweet treat forgotten before you even made it out the door. 

made it out the door. 

made out with the door? if only. but now is not the time; you’re too flummoxed and frazzled to be thinking about those plump little lips, about how handsome changbin is in his mocha colored tux and his neatly styled hair, with his stern face that lit up like the sun when he spoke to you. and called you a mouse?

you shake your head for what feels to be the millionth time. what the hell is going on? you saw changbin leave this morning, but now here he is standing guard, for some reason, at your front door. are you dreaming?

you pull your phone out of your pocket and swipe your thumb up the screen to unlock it. 

google search: how do i know if im dreaming

“to determine if you’re dreaming, you can perform reality checks like examining your hands, reading text, or trying to push your finger through your palm…”

that’s easy enough. you just typed a sentence and read the answer; that’s one down. you take one hand away from your phone to wiggle your fingers next, so the last thing on your list has you curling your fingers into your palm. no hole to be found, just sensitive layers of skin that your nails tickle. 

“definitely not dreaming,” you mumble. can he hear you from the entryway? you need to stop talking to yourself before your front door starts to think you’re crazy. 

“definitely not, but i can pinch you just to make sure~” 

you yelp, turning quickly to face the person speaking into your ear, just as familiar as the voice you heard earlier. you’re almost expecting to see the charming doorman again, but when you glance back towards the front door, you still see him standing stationary. you’re shocked to find this figure both similar and different all at once. 

changbin stands before you again, grinning from ear to ear, a pair of techy glasses perched on his round little nose, a metallic colored jacket wrapped around a black, fitted t-shirt. his black cargo pants are baggy, his clunky boots just as metallic as his jacket. there are silver rings on several of his fingers, a keyboard-esque belt wrapped tightly around his thick waist. 

“golden delicious!” he beams. “the apple of my eye! it’s me, your gigababe~ you recognize me, don’t you? you should, you know. i’m just saying. we spend a lot of time together.” you look down at the iphone in your hands and back up at him just to be met with a greasy wink. you place your phone back on the counter with a thunk, and he awkwardly rubs his shoulder. 

“…changbin?” you venture. he hums sweetly, tittering off into a noise that sounds suspiciously like a text tone. “you’re-? jesus. i feel like i’m going crazy. i don’t know what’s going on.” 

“hey, don’t worry.” his eyebrows furrow. changbin caresses your shoulder and leans in close, making sure to look you in the eyes. “you know i’m always here to help. what’s the problem?” 

changbin’s tension eases as you explain your morning, and his answer comes easily when he taps a blunt, manicured finger on the frame of the glasses you almost forgot you were wearing. his face goes a little expressionless as he does, his eyes wide and completely white as a jumble of tiny, coded numbers and letters flash across them, the deep brown of his irises only reappearing when he blinks to disperse the code. 

“dateviators,” he says plainly. “ha, i like that. that’s funny! anyways, like i said, there really is no need to worry! your fancy new glasses are magic, that’s all. see! you’re not crazy.” 

you blink at him — he blinks back. 

“magic.”

“magic! can’t you tell?” changbin gestures to himself. “according to some forums i’ve found on the internet, your dateviators allow you to bring everyday household objects to life and pursue relationships with them! for most people it seems like relationships with each object can end in one of three routes. i- well, i don’t see us having that many,” he chuckles, rubs his hand against the back of his neck like he’s suddenly shy. 

“wait, what do you mean by us? like- you and i us, or?” 

“of course you and i us! the others too though.” 

you blink rapidly. you feel like you’re glitching, brain blue-screening like the laptop you accidentally spilled water on back in college. “okay. sure, right. others. the others, as in…?” 

“the other changbins!” 

another rapid set of blinks, a firm nod that feels far shakier than it is. 

“so what you’re telling me is that,” you pause, and changbin leans onto his elbows to listen. “all of the objects i somehow bring to life with these magical glasses will be you? or like, i mean, um. him? you. him, my boyfriend. changbin.” 

changbin nods, pursing his lips together to keep himself from laughing. the dimple on his cheek pops cutely. he angles himself back towards you, leans his hip against the counter, and sends you a downwards smile that always has you melting. 

“exactly! it seems as if your dateviators show you the things you desire most, and well…” his chest puffs. proud, preening peacock. “you must like me a whole lot~” 

“if your chest puffs up anymore you’re going to poke my eyes out with those things,” you grumble. avoiding the subject is no use though — it’s not like you can lie your way out of how much you desire your partner if what he says is true; it’s clearly manifested itself into every nook and cranny of your shared home. “and you said… relationships? routes? what- what does that mean?” 

“ahh, you see, from the information i’ve collected online, it looks like they could either fall in love, form a friendship, or hate each other. again! don’t worry though, you don’t have to stress about that.” the pout on your face must give your feelings away. if every item in your house manifests into different versions of changbin, the thought of even one of them hating you has you feeling short of breath. changbin pouts back, leans into your space to nudge your shoulder with his. “why do you look so upset? don’t you know?” 

“don’t i know what? i mean, i know you just told me not to stress about it, but! changbin, you don’t get it, i think i’ll die if any of you decide you don’t like me.” 

“aiiish,” he breathes. changbin tuts his tongue. “please don’t say that. you really don’t know?” his eyes go white again, flashing with so many numbers and letters that you can’t even begin to follow them. he blinks them away a second time, smiling softly and collecting your hands in his to hold. “i was just doing some scanning again, of my own this time. probabilities, right? every possible outcome there could be. there’s not a single one that- ah, my sweet honeycrisp, you have to know. there is no version of us on this planet that isn’t compatible — no version of changbin that doesn’t already love you. we’re meant to be in every form! isn’t that just wonderful?” 

embarrassingly enough, you find that your eyes are beginning to sting. you butt your forehead into changbin’s strong chest like a cat would, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. 

changbin is right. isn’t that just wonderful, to be loved so endlessly?

“why- why are you crying?! you… oh, you can’t… do that.” changbin’s voice is soft and sweet, petulant like he’s trying to keep his own emotions at bay. “if you cry, i’ll cry, and i can’t get wet! you’ll have to put me in rice.” 

you giggle at that, and the smile on his face tells you that’s exactly what he wanted. your glasses lift when you wipe your eyes — changbin’s lower half disappears and reappears as they adjust back onto your nose. 

“sorry,” you whine. “sorry, this is embarrassing.” 

“you can’t be embarrassed!” one of his silver rings clinks against his own pair of glasses as he pushes them up his nose. “no, no way. not with me! that was nothing. i know your search history, remember? on eeevery website~” changbin tips forward on his toes to giggle in your ear. you swat at him, and he cackles harder, glasses butting together at the closeness. “ah, look at you. even prettier from this angle, can you believe it? mmm… alright, you should go look for the others. we’re just going to eat you up, apple slice. but you have to remember i’m only one swipe away, okay? even when you go play with the others, just know i’m always here.” 

he pats you on the side, a playful encouragement to get your feet moving so you can go exploring. 

how do you even find them? how do your magic glasses bring your household items to life? and where did these ridiculous glasses even come from?! you blink hard and shake your head. these are all questions you could probably ask your phon- well, ask changbin, but your feet carry you away from him and past the other one standing quietly at the door. the stairs creak when you walk up them, railing smooth under the tips of your fingers. 

it makes sense that you’d find your way back to your bedroom of all places, a silent comfort with how lived in it is, with traces of both you and changbin all around to calm your racing heart. a half empty water bottle on your nightstand, changbin’s sock drawer cracked open. you sit on the corner of the mattress and sigh. it dips under your weight, and you don’t realize you’ve zoned out, staring at nothing-yet-something in particular, until another weight joins you on the bed. 

a raspy voice huffs, but it’s weightier than usual, sleepy, and the owner of the voice struggles to slip across the mattress to sit beside you. 

socked feet drop to the floor, another sigh but not your own, and the weight of a heavy head rests on your shoulder. 

“is it time for a nap yet?”

it’s changbin again, of course it is, but you realize exactly what this changbin is before you turn your gaze towards him. the feeling of nostalgia wraps around you like a well-worn blanket, the scent of your childhood bedroom fills your nose — hand-me-down books, toasted marshmallow scented markers, a watermelon juice stained t-shirt thrown carelessly in an old wicker hamper. 

your childhood teddy bear sits on the far corner of the dresser and right beside you now, but one is much bigger than the other. 

changbin lifts his head when you turn to look at him. one green button for an eye, a patchwork quilted sweatshirt that must be two sizes too big, and the fluffiest head of hair you’ve ever seen. you always hugged your teddy bear just a little bit too tight when you were young, so changbin doesn’t seem to mind at all when you snake your arms around his broad shoulders and squeeze. he settles into it with a content sigh, chin tucking over your shoulder and relaxing into you completely. 

you relax into the hug just as comfortably, tucking your face into his warm neck and nuzzling. it isn’t until you hear a pop, and then another, and another — p-p-pop-pop-pop! — that you pull away to see what the noise was. 

“oh, don’t worry about that,” changbin hums sleepily, but he sits up and rolls one shoulder like he’s trying to fix something you can’t see. “it’s just my stuffin’ again. it used to happen all the time when we were little, remember?”

he tugs his sweater to the side by the collar, and you gasp. pink, fraying thread sticks straight up from a neat rip in his clavicle. it seems to have busted right open under the pressure from your hug, polyester fiberfill protruding from the opening like soft cotton candy. it doesn’t reach all the way across to his shoulder, skin still held tightly together by zigzagging pink thread. thank goodness for little mercies; it seems that you only popped half of his stitches. 

the first memory sticks out to you, of course it does. you gave yourself a headache with how hard you cried that day, fat, pitiful tears rolling down your puffy cheeks as you handed your teddy bear over to your mother who took him to immediate emergency surgery to fix the accidental rip, gently pushing the stuffing back into his soft, well-loved body and sewing him up until he was almost as good as new. 

changbin still carries the scar to prove it, but now you’ve gone and popped it open again. 

“i’m so sorry!” you rush, but he shrugs you off. changbin leans back into your space again and noses sweetly at your throat. it feels like velvet felt, ticklish and soft. “i can fix it for you?” 

he heaves a heavy, content sigh, grumbles like a sleepy dog. his body has become so lax against yours that his weight sends you plopping down onto the mattress, changbin curled snugly at your side. 

“it’s really alright,” he assures. his breathing is slow, the light puffs of air from his nose are warm against the skin of your neck. “it shows how much you love me, doesn’t it? being hugged so hard that i pop… that’s something a bear can only dream of, you know.” 

he’s out like a light before you can respond, snoring lightly and twitching in his quick tumble into slumber. you lean up on your palm to admire him, to admire this changbin, so similar to yours yet so different, though it seems like they’re all already yours in their own special way. his button eye, his pouty lips, his round little felt nose. you bend down to kiss it and it scrunches cutely under your attention, but changbin doesn’t wake. 

he doesn’t wake when you cover him with the throw blanket from the foot of your bed either, tucking it around his broad shoulders and making a mental note to see about fixing his stuffing problem later. 

changbin is fast asleep and unbothered, as unbothered as a bear can be while taking a smallish nap or two. 

standing up from the bed and walking away from your soundly sleeping teddy takes a lot of strength, but your newly found excitement to discover more propels you forward. there are so many options, so many changbins to bring to life and discover while you wait for yours to return home. you take a step out of your room. where to go? back down the stairs, to the home gym to your left? the attic? 

there’s movement out of the corner of your eye though that stops you in your tracks. not big enough to be a person, not even big enough to be a critter, thank god, just a little twitch from the far corner of the hallway only made possible by the air conditioner clanking on. man, you… really need to dust. and sweep. maybe mop a little bit even. you’re staring such diligent daggers at the billowing piece of gray, fuzzy lint that so rudely interrupted your search for more changbin doppelgängers that you aren’t expecting one to show up right in front of you. 

he falls to the floor with a thud then, just before your stunned eyes. 

this one is… cute. painfully so. of course he is, with his wide, wide eyes and fluffy pajama pants. gray of course, gray like the thick sweatshirt he wears and gray like the lop ears on his head, twitching profusely as he stares at you in shock. it takes a moment for him to catch up after his fall, and you’re not expecting the flurry of movement as he scrambles away from the corner and takes off down the short hallway. he doesn’t stop when you call his name, so you follow him as quickly as you can, turning the corner just in time to see him ducking into the storage closet beside the door to the attic. 

you call his name again quietly before you open the door. knocking would add your stylish doorman to the mix, and you’re not too sure if this skittish version of changbin that’s hiding in your closet could handle a second set of eyes on him. your fingers reach out to pull it open slowly, turning the knob with careful precision so not to spook the fraidy cat that’s hiding inside — or well, fraidy bunny. 

he’s crouched in the corner of the closet and hidden not-so-subtly behind a small basket of beach towels, covering his eyes with trembling fingers like you won’t be able to see him as long as he can’t see you. you coo at him; it’s not something you can help, fond sigh slipping from your lips before you can manage to swallow it down. his foot thumps on the hardwood floor once in response, twice, a third time, and he huffs at you like you’re the one making the most racket. 

“shhh,” he whispers. you resist the urge to coo again when he brings his hands from his eyes and beckons you inside. he doesn’t give you the chance to turn on the light switch before he’s tugging you down beside him and holding a finger to his lips. “we have to be quiet. he’ll find me!” 

it’s almost too stuffy to breathe in here with the door closed. the sleeve of one of changbin’s winter coats flops onto your shoulder from its hanger and you swipe it off. “who? who’ll find you?”

changbin turns away from you suddenly and presses one tall ear to the wall like he’s listening for something you can’t hear. rather than worrying about it, you decide to focus on the cute, dusty colored cotton tail wriggling against your hip. he doesn’t answer your question anyways, not really, just mutters something about a man and his sucking machine. 

you blink and blink. it’s getting easier to see in the pitch darkness of your confined storage closet, but everything is tinted an odd, off-yellow because of your glasses. changbin twitches, flexes his foot like he’s about to thump it again. his lop ears flap instead. 

“um. sucking machine?” 

he turns back to you with wide eyes and grabs onto the sleeve of your shirt. “yes! it’s so loud. he caught my tail in it the other day and it really hurt. but you don’t… you’ve never used one, have you?” 

there’s a joke in there somewhere. your silly boyfriend might brazenly insist he’s seen you use a sucking machine on many occasions. in fact, there’s one right on your face, right below your nose. one he enjoys thoroughly and frequently. 

but the bunny beside you is already so distressed, already looking at you with forlorn eyes and a quiver to his chin. are those whiskers on his cheeks? he visibly relaxes into your side when you confirm that you’ve never used a sucking machine, even though you hardly have the faintest clue of what that could be. you let him nuzzle you; he’s a lot similar to the sleeping teddy bear you left in your bedroom right up until the moment he starts butting your shoulder with the side of his head. the nudge of his head is light and doesn’t hurt, but he gets sulky when you don’t realize quickly enough what it is that he’s looking for. changbin huffs. 

“you’re supposed to pet me now.” 

“oh!” it’s not like that’s a difficult task. you reckon every version of changbin likes to be pet, a constant across all forms. he’s as sweet as spun sugar, velvet soft ears twitching in content under the gentle caress of your fingers when they move to his head. his hair is just as soft, curly and slightly unkempt from his needy nudging. “you’re so soft, changbinnie.” 

the press of his cheek against your shoulder is soft too. so is the quiet chatter of his teeth, the gentle grind of them muted through the plushness of his smushed cheek. he’s not cold like you might assume, he’s not afraid. his foot taps the floor every few seconds in a relaxed thump. 

this dust bunny is as pleased as pie if the signs tell you anything. 

his head is in your lap before you know it, sweatshirt rucked up so you can rub his belly while your other hand smoothes along his ears. changbin isn’t asleep but he’s not far from it; his eyes are droopy. 

“how about,” you whisper. changbin blinks up at you. “you tell me where to find the man you’re hiding from, and i’ll tell him not to use that mean old sucking machine anymore, huh? how could anyone ever hurt somebunny this cute.” 

changbin wiggles then, body twitching oddly like he should be standing up to wiggle correctly. a slight kick to his bent legs, a jerk of his hips. changbin grins and sits up before he leans back towards the wall and presses his ear to it. he listens for a moment, and when he’s satisfied that he doesn’t hear any suspicious noises, then and only then does he turn the knob to the closet, helping you stand up from your seated position and stretching when he finally steps into the hallway. 

your knees are asleep — there’s static in your feet. shaking out your legs keeps you stationary long enough for changbin to circle you once. he does it again and once more for good measure, weaving around your body with bright eyes and a sated smile. 

“you will?!” he asks. “you’ll tell him? oh, how exciting! i won’t have to keep hiding… alright, listen. he’s usually in the closet in the laundry room. that’s where he keeps that machine at least. you have to be brave. do you really think you can do it?” 

you think you’d do just about anything to keep that smile on his face. 

with a parting scritch to his fuzzy ears, you make your way down the creaking stairs to find whatever, whoever, is scaring the sweet bunny who’s made your acquaintance. 

everything clicks into place when you walk through the kitchen and open the closet in your laundry room to find your cleaning supplies. a broom, several cans of spray, clorox wipes and sponges, and what can only be the infamous sucking machine. bright purple and dark black, with a crevice tool attached to the side. you weren’t even lying when you told that scaredy bunny you had never used a sucking tool. your boyfriend is the one who typically handles the vacuuming. 

you focus your attention on the vacuum long enough to feel a prim finger tap you on the shoulder. 

there he is again, this one different from the rest of the changbins you’ve encountered so far today, frilly headband on his head, equally frilly black dress donning his broad figure yet leaving his shapely legs on display. there’s a white apron tied around his thick waist and a pink microfiber cloth sticking out of one of the pockets. 

now this… this is something you’ve seen before, although under very different circumstances. 

“ohhh, you’re a maid!” 

he rolls his eyes fondly, but gestures to the closet so you’ll move out of his way. he reaches for the feather duster on the middle shelf. “i’m your housekeeper, scrubbing bubbles. who else would you trust to keep your house while the two of you are away?” changbin flutters the feather duster across the top of your head before he glides it across the doorframe of the closet. “is there something you need? something you want me to clean for you?” 

“not- i mean, no, not really. i guess i do need something from you though.” 

he hums, titters around you waving his feather duster like it’s his very own fairy wand. 

“a favor!” he exclaims. changbin swishes the duster across the doorknob and sticks the handle in his apron pocket. now that you have his full attention, he regards you with a glint in his eye. “all favors come with a price~” 

you scoff then. “what, you want me to scrub the sinks or something? windex all the windows?” 

“no, i can do those things myself!” cute and huffy, petulant at even the mere thought of you doing chores for him while he does what, prop his feet up? reads a magazine? naps? his lips quirk then, something cocksure and confident. your eyes follow his as they tick to your nose and then your lips, gaze lifting right back up to your eyes almost as soon as it left. “i want something more than that. something better!” 

as soon as the words leave his lips, a fluffy head of hair and a pair of wide eyes peer around the kitchen corner to spy. lop ears follow, drooping down and swaying limply with the sideways angle of his head. changbin tiptoes from the corner and moves quietly into the kitchen, making a slow turn into your downstairs hallway to — you guess — find another hiding spot. his backside is still visible when your housekeeper turns around and moves fully into the kitchen to straighten the chairs set at the kitchen table, so you jump into action before your skittish dust bunny gets caught sneaking. 

“a kiss!” you squeak. the chair grates on the linoleum, and changbin’s smile turns mischievous. “how about a kiss?” 

“a kiss, you say?” a widening grin, handsomely raised eyebrows. he crosses his arms in front of his wide chest at your answering nod, and the juxtaposition of such a masculine stance paired with his ruffled maid dress has your mind whirling. he steps closer to you then, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek and feel the warmth of his body. you’re half expecting him to kiss you first, but all he does is drop his eyes to your lips again. he’s still looking at them when he speaks. “you’re forward. you know what you want… i really like that.” 

“is that a yes?” you ask, nothing more than a breath. your own eyes flutter to his lips then, still quirked in one corner and so inviting. 

“i was just going to ask if you’d fix me something for lunch,” he laughs. it’s airy and quiet, purposefully undisruptive. “of course it’s a yes. i’ll take a kiss from you over a sandwich any day.” 

you lean forward with a vigor not lost to you, and you meet in the middle with a flurry of limbs and the sweet press of eager lips. your arms wrap around his neck, his uncross to hold you in different places — one firm hand caresses the back of your neck while the other dips to your back. it’s a quaint kiss overall, close-lipped and chaste until changbin rumbles a low hum and deepens the kiss himself. his lips part slightly, his tongue laps against your bottom lip and acquaints itself with yours greedily. his grip pulls you closer; your fingers curl into his hair and grab hold of a strong shoulder. you’re so focused on the unhurried slide of your lips that you hardly notice the clatter of his headband on the linoleum floor beneath you. 

the wet smack of your lips in the otherwise quiet kitchen heats your cheeks. it licks down your spine, coils itself somewhere deep in your belly. heady sighs and the rustle of roaming hands, a whimper is punched from your throat when changbin’s fingers slide themselves into the hair at the nape of your neck. 

he pulls away from your mouth with a smack; his lips are puffy and pink, slick, kissable all over again, such an unyielding cycle. changbin’s smile is dazed, but his fingers are sure where they hold you. he licks his lips, tasting you again. “i liked that noise.” 

you want another kiss, but he’s already dragging his thumb across your own slick bottom lip to wipe away the excess moisture. you bet your hair is a mess after that. the lack of steady oxygen still has you feeling swimmy in the most wonderful way. you watch changbin smooth out his dress after picking up his headband and adjust the band with your own shaky fingers when he’s done, straightening it for him while he stands primly in place. 

what do you even say after a kiss like that? wow? your boyfriend has definitely said that before. that was fun? good work, champ? we fit together like puzzle pieces? i hope we kiss like that until the end of time? 

changbin beats you to it though, when he snaps his fingers like he’s remembering something. “oh!” he exclaims. “what was that favor you wanted to ask me, scrubbing bubbles?” 

huh. that’s right. you have a favor to ask him. that’s why you kissed each other breathless in the first place. 

“uh, yeah. yes, i did have a favor for you, didn’t i?” he nods, looking almost annoyingly proud that he has rendered you so speechless. “the vacuum. can you not…? can you not use it, please.” 

“can i not use the vacuum?!” he bellows. he runs his fingers through his hair in anguish and knocks the headband off a second time. “vacuuming is crucial for a clean house! how could- how could i forfeit something so important—!”

a kiss to his talking lips. you reach for him again and he sinks into you like it’s as easy as breathing. your kiss is short this time but no less heated than your last. you part from him once more with another slick sounding smack. changbin’s lips stay puckered goofily even as you lean away, and he blinks rapidly like he’s trying to wake himself up from a daze. 

oh, how the tables have turned. 

“—i mean, i don’t have to vacuum,” he says. “i don’t even like vacuuming that much. sweeping! i’ll sweep instead. but- but- why exactly am i not vacuuming?” 

“you’re scaring that cute dust bunny.” 

“oh. him… he is kind of cute for a piece of lint, i guess. is he cuter than me though? this dress comes in pink too, you know. it’s backless! and- oh, it’s almost time for the spin cycle to be done, isn’t it?” changbin grabs your cheeks in his hands and hauls you in for another kiss. it’s a peck this time, quick and loud and silly. “that was fun, huh?~ we’ll have to do that again sometime.” 

he putters quickly over to the washing machine and leaves you to your own devices. you could always go find where your dust bunny is hiding or take a nap with your teddy bear upstairs. a hop and a skip over to the entrance of your living room shows your phone plopped comfortably on the couch and watching a movie, hand sunk deep in a bowl of popcorn. your front door remains as sturdy and stoic as ever. sure, you could happily join one of the changbins you’ve already met today, or… 

or you could continue finding more of them. 

but your stomach rumbles something horrible before you can decide where to go exploring next. that monstrous sound is as good of an answer as any; lunch shouldn’t be your only finding in the kitchen, there must be handsome boyfriends to discover here too. 

cans of soda and glass bottles clink together on the side shelf as you open the refrigerator door. you look long and hard; there are leftovers from last night’s dinner you could heat in the air fryer, some fruit you could cut up and eat with some caramel on the side. there might be a box of pasta in the pantry, actually. 

someone standing behind the door of the fridge isn’t something you’re expecting to see when you close it — thank god you weren’t holding anything in your hands. your busy, bustling housekeeper might not be too keen on kissing you anymore if you were to spill something all over his clean floor. changbin startles in surprise at the same time you do, an awkward sound leaving his lips like he wasn’t anticipating a similar reaction from you.  

“holy shit!” you wheeze. 

“cheese and crackers!” 

you speak at the same time. changbin’s hand comes up to cover his heart as he takes a deep, steadying breath. roaming eyes take him in where he stands, and really, it makes sense he looks the way he does since you did find him in the kitchen, though this is definitely not a look you’re used to. he’s holding a purple spatula in one hand, a cookbook in the other. changbin is casually dressed and wearing a pair of comfortable house slippers, adorned in a long sleeved shirt that he’s rolled up to his elbows and a pair of nice, dark wash, expensive, flattering, fitted, tight, thigh-hugging… jeans. 

when you finally manage to snatch your eyes away from his thick thighs, his white apron catches your attention next, haltered around his neck and tied around his waist. 

KISS THE COOK BUT DON’T TOUCH THE BUNS!

ironic. funny, even. you seem to recall your boyfriend enjoying a good touch to the buns every now and then. 

“not even a pinch?” you tease. that kiss has made you brazen. 

“of salt? a pinch of what?” changbin tilts his head at you in confusion until he notices where you’re looking. he ducks his chin to follow your gaze and promptly rolls his eyes, a scoff leaving his subtly quirking lips. “no! not- not right now… i’m at work, cupcake.” 

changbin places the cookbook on the kitchen counter and flips through its pages. he’s still holding the spatula and waving it around as if he’s talking with it instead of his hands, mouthing ingredients to himself and involuntarily ignoring you in his endearingly one-track concentration. 

he startles again when he lifts his eyes from the cookbook, almost like he didn’t remember that you were standing across from him. 

“oh,” he quips. changbin points the spatula at you. “what are you doing back here, anyway? you’re not supposed to be in my kitchen!” 

“but it’s my kitchen? this is literally my house.” 

he ponders that for a moment but ultimately finds your argument plausible. 

“yes, that’s right, isn’t it? then that must make me your chef, sous chef! what would you like for lunch?” 

your eyelashes flutter. how strange! of all the doppelgängers you’ve met so far, this one might blow your mind the most. even more than the bunny with lop ears and a cotton tail, more than the button-eyed, stuffing-filled teddy bear. changbin is usually your sous chef at home, if anything, not the other way around. he’s not exactly hopeless in the kitchen as long as he’s left with rules to follow and some soft-handed guidance. there hasn’t been any eggshells in your scrambled eggs lately, so you really think he’s making progress. 

the possibilities seem endless now. changbin, a real chef! box of pasta in your pantry be damned, he could probably make the noodles from scratch if he wanted to. maybe he could surprise you with something from that cookbook he’s reading. a surprise… that sounds like it could be fun. 

you’ve just gotten the words out of your mouth when someone else walks into the kitchen. your phone is carrying his empty popcorn bowl, boots shuffling on the linoleum floor. he shoots you a wink and places his bowl in the sink. 

“gorgeous gala! i’ve been missing you. are you having fun with the others?” changbin takes a seat at the kitchen table and pushes the chair out beside him, beckoning you to take a seat. your knee knocks against his where you sit, and changbin snakes his arm across the back of your chair. 

you tell him then who you’ve met so far, the fun you’ve been having. you leave out the life-altering kiss you shared with your housekeeper, but if changbin’s been in the living room since you left him this morning, he might have gotten a glimpse of it himself. 

“i’m just a little hungry now. you guys have really made me work up an appetite.” he grins at that, proud to be part of the reason you want to eat something yummy. “chef seo here is just about to make me some lunch!” 

changbin’s eyes widen, looking back and forth from you to the other changbin piddling around at the stove. he leans into you then, so close that you can see the light reflecting from his glasses. 

“you have to- ah, how do i say this…” he drums his fingers quietly against the kitchen table in thought and twists one of his rings. “be gentle with him, okay? he’s not the best, but he’s trying! just look at him up there.” changbin coos then, looking at the other one fondly with a tilt of his head and a kind smile. “he made me popcorn while i was watching my movie, isn’t that so nice? sugarbee, listen to me. it was so burnt i thought i must be eating a bowl full of soot.” 

“oh? oh my. and you still ate it all?” 

“of course i did!” he whispers firmly. “look at that face, you can’t say no to a face like that!” 

you jump apart from each other when a plate clatters onto the table in front of you. changbin stands there sheepishly but folds his hands behind himself to bow slightly. 

“sorry! i didn’t mean to drop it like that. okay, well. lunch is served, sweet pea. today’s chef special is pancakes with chocolate chips, a syrup drizzle, and powdered sugar. i put some fruit on the side for some extra flavor as well. oh, and! here. an ice cold glass of water to wash it all down. i hope you enjoy. everything is made with love, sugar dear, and of course, flour, milk, eggs, baking powder…” 

he’s still prattling on about his list of ingredients as he turns away from the table and heads back to the stove to clean up. 

you look down at the pancakes then. they’re nothing michelin star, nothing you would find at a gourmet restaurant, but the pancake on top has a wonky chocolate chip smiley face and a powdered sugar beard, and you’re going to demolish these pancakes no matter how they taste. 

they’re stacked three high. you decide to bite the bullet and just go for it. encouraged by the wide eyed anticipation from your human cellphone beside you, you cut into the top pancake and shove a small piece in your mouth. it’s definitely an… interesting combination. the chocolate chips on the outside are slightly charred from the stove, the inside of the pancake, however, definitely needed to cook a little longer. it’s a tad doughy, yet still slightly chalky with undissolved pieces of flour. you take a minute to chew and swallow, and your nosy neighbor leans in close.  

“how is it?” he asks earnestly. 

“…it’s so hard to get a pancake just right, you know,” you placate. changbin nods his head so hard it bobbles. 

it doesn’t take too long to finish the top one. honestly, it’s not inedible. the bites of uncooked pancake make your mouth a little sticky and your spit a little thick, but the smiling chocolate chips and sweet syrup help to mask the taste of dough. 

that just leads to your second pancake though, a complete contrast of your first. this pancake is so burnt that that’s all you taste when you bite into it. changbin winces sadly beside you when the pancake actually crunches under the gnashing of your teeth. admittedly, you don’t think you can get through this one as easily as the first, no matter how perfectly melted the chocolate chips are inside. you slide your knife down the middle of the pancake and tilt your plate towards changbin. 

he pinches his mouth shut. 

“mm-mm.” 

“yes, you have to help me!” you frantically whisper, mouth dry. 

“i’m not hungry, i just had popcorn!”

you push your plate toward him. “you told me that you were one swipe away! this is me swiping. i am swiping.” 

he grumbles then, mumbles something whiny about you using his own words against him, which, sure. just this once. he takes one quick glance at the stove to see the other changbin still cleaning away his mess and grabs the remaining half of the pancake with his hand, shoving it in his small mouth unceremoniously. 

of course your chef chooses to turn around right then, and he blanches at the sight of changbin with his mouth full. 

“i jus’ had to haf a bite,” he explains, words muffled with his cheeks stuffed to the brim. he plucks a strawberry off the side of the plate to use as a chaser. 

the third pancake actually doesn’t look half bad. it doesn’t seem burnt by the looks of it, although the chocolate chip smiley face looks more like it’s crying now due to the warmth of the other pancakes stacked on top. the inside remains a mystery until you cut a piece off and bring it to your lips while both changbins watch. 

you gawk then, eyes widening in not-so-subtle shock at just how perfect the last pancake is. fully cooked and fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness from the chocolate and maple syrup. it’s even better when you grab a blueberry on your fork with the next bite. 

“changbin,” you say. it’s nearly a moan. his ears are pink, but you’re not sure if that’s from your tone of voice or from watching you eat something he made for you. “this is amazing!” 

the smile that spreads across his face lights up the room. he’s so beautiful like this, when his cheeks bunch and his eyes crinkle. there’s a new found confidence in the way he holds himself before you, a proudness now that he knows he fed you well. ish. 

“you think?” he asks. he rocks forward on his toes and back on his heels. “you enjoyed it, honeydew? i’m so glad! i tried something new and really wanted it to be special. and you-” he turns to the changbin seated beside you and points at him with his spatula. when did he pick that up? “you liked it too? i’ll add it to the regular menu!” 

you bring the fork to changbin’s mouth so he can taste the last little bit of perfectly edible pancake on your plate and receive a happy text tone in return, something chirpy and bright. he taps his feet while he chews and shoots your chef a hearty thumbs up. he leaves soon after that with a parting kiss to your cheek, sticky, syrup sweet. back to the living room he goes — you can hear the television resume its place. 

the remaining changbin takes your empty plate and discards it in the sink. he washes his hands then, unties the apron from around his waist but leaves the halter around his neck when he’s done. changbin turns back to you and shuffles to sit beside you at the table. he cups a hand over yours, caressing your knuckles with a calloused thumb. 

it’s quieter now, more intimate than it was. 

“thank you for making me lunch,” you say. you turn your thumb to catch his, linking them together before entwining your fingers. “you and my changbin could have a lot of fun together in here.” 

“oh really? is he passionate about cooking too? i thought he was mainly a taste-tester. we’ll have to bounce ideas off of each other then! share tips and tricks. we can- or i can… i could cook for you again?” he squeezes your hand. the tips of his ears are red, pretty pink beginning to bleed all the way down to the lobes. “if you wanted. like a date.” 

it’s not something you have to think about, even with his questionable cooking skills. you didn’t have to think when your changbin asked you on a date either, nor did you have to think when he asked if you wanted to be in a relationship with him, or if you wanted to move in together. there’s another question you hope he’ll ask soon, one that you won’t hesitate to answer either. it comes easy with changbin. it always comes easy with changbin, you’re learning, no matter which one. 

“of course i’ll go on a date with you,” you smile. changbin smiles back, soft and slow. “how about we cook something together? wouldn’t that be romantic?” 

“it would. that would be romantic! oh, biscuits. is that the time? i’ve gotta get started again, pudding pop, the lunch rush will be here soon! you’ll find me again though, won’t you? if you’re hungry again, i’ll make anything your heart desires.” 

he’s up in a flurry, tying his apron around his waist and opening the refrigerator with a sense of renewed vigor. 

there’s only one thing to do with your belly this full. 

you pass your lovely phone again when you walk through the living room. your handsome doorman regards you with a smile and a dreamy afternoon, dormouse. his eyes are on you while you walk up the stairs that lead to your bedroom. you can feel them, dark, calculating, heavy. if you sway your hips a little extra and take your steps a little slower to keep his stare on you for longer, that’s your business and yours alone. you meet his eyes on the top step though, turning your head over your shoulder to blow him a small, teasing kiss. his head ducks then like you caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, but there’s a pleased smile on his face that makes you giggle. 

your teddy bear is right where you left him even hours later, snuggled deep in the throw blanket from the foot of your bed. his eyes flutter as you crawl into bed and curl up beside him. they never open all the way, but his burly arms do. he pulls you into his warm embrace and tangles his legs with yours, and you’re asleep the moment your head hits his chest. 

when you wake again, the sun is a little further down in the sky than it was, and a loose piece of changbin’s stuffing is stuck to your bottom lip. your glasses are smushed uncomfortably close to your face, courtesy of the warm, sturdy chest you’re laying on. a glance above you shows that sweet, sleepy bear still in the land of the dreaming, so you detangle yourself from him as gently as you can and sit on the corner of the bed to think. 

you have a whole lot of house left to explore and even more changbins to find before the one you miss the most returns home to you. it’s with that thought in mind that you decide exactly where to go next. 

it’s arguably one of changbin’s favorite rooms in the house. close enough to the bedroom that he can get there easily. there’s a television on the wall and a full body mirror to its right, a treadmill in the corner. changbin’s workout bench sits along the wall beside his dumbbell rack. you’re honestly not in here a lot. your pilates mat is rolled up in the corner, and changbin has started using your dumbbells to warm up. maybe some encouragement couldn’t hurt, maybe that’s exactly what you need to get back into the swing of things. though you don’t know how any other changbin could be more encouraging or persuasive than your own when it comes to working out. 

the treadmill is what you focus your yellow-tinted sight on. it only takes a moment for the glasses to do their thing, and soon, there’s grunting coming from changbin’s bench behind you, followed by heavy breathing and a one-off curse. 

you turn to see him then, black, fitted tank top and all. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think this changbin was yours, the only real difference you see is the pink striped sweatbands around his head and his wrists. he’s wearing a pair of black athletic shorts and equally black weightlifting shoes, but the laces are pink. he’s got one knee propped on the bench and a palm pressed to it too, working on his biceps. 

changbin hasn’t noticed you yet and you’re glad he hasn’t. he’s in his element like this, focused, disciplined. that principled mindset he always carries is just as attractive as the body he’s worked so diligently for. just as arousing too, the heat rising in your belly is only aided by his dripping sweat, flexing muscles, and gruff noises. 

“…six, seven,” he huffs. it’s the crossing of your legs that gets his attention — of course you catch his attention by being horny over him just existing, but he does a double take and straightens his posture when he sees your eyes on him. the arch of his back is criminal. “… thirty eight, thirty nine, forty…” 

“oh wow,” you grin. changbin places his dumbbell back on the rack with a grunt and puff of his cheeks. he rubs his hands together then, bounces his shoulders. “is that a new record?” 

changbin laughs, an embarrassed little thing. he rubs at the back of his neck and makes a face when his hand comes away wet with sweat. “ah, yeah. i mean, i always do my best when i have an audience.” 

“you have a lot of people who come to watch you?” 

“well, sometimes.” he starts counting on his fingers. “the trophies come watch me a lot. there’s that soccer jersey? he’s new around. and the nice housekeeper watches when he cleans up in here! they’re not as pretty as you are though, so, you know. i don’t need to impress them as much.” 

such a sweet talker. 

“you want to impress me?” you ask, a tilt to your head. that brazenness is back with a vengeance. “why?”

“so you’ll come back to see me, of course. but hey, you’re here already, champ! that counts for something. i was just actually about to get ready for my next set, you wanna join?” 

well. not particularly. you’d actually much rather sit to the side and ogle him while he works out, twirl your hair and giggle when he takes a long sip of water maybe. but you went all in with all of the other changbins you met, so might as well go all in with this one too, leg aches in the morning be damned. 

“i haven’t really done this in a while,” you clarify. changbin nods his head in understanding, and his eyes are kind as he listens raptly. “i’d like to join you, but you’ll have to go easy on me this time.” 

“hell yeah! we’ll take it at your speed, champ, it’ll be fun! i’ve got just the thing in mind, but hey- can’t have you pullin’ a muscle. we’ve gotta stretch you out.” 

yes. yes, that sounds like a great idea, being stretched out. 

you’re feeling it now. that ache, that mounting need for changbin that makes your thoughts fuzzy and soaks your panties. it’s been building under the surface all day with each changbin you’ve met, with each one showing you their heart in their own special ways. you don’t think you could handle another easy touch without throwing yourself at their feet. you can’t handle another confident smile or gentle caress or silly pet name. or a kiss. a kiss. a kiss would ruin you; a kiss would break you down completely, turn you into something malleable and saccharine. 

the ache deepens at the thought. being stretched out… on his tongue, his fingers, his cock. changbin fits inside of you like he belongs there; there’s no truer thought to be had. 

you’re still thinking about it when changbin places a hand on your shoulder to bring you out of your daze. 

“you alright?” he asks. the tilt of his head makes him look so puppyish. “are you still feeling up to it? i promise we’ll have fun! i- hm, you know what? i think i know what’s wrong.” 

he’s found you out already. he can see it in your eyes, how you want him to lay you on his workout bench and have his way with you. 

“and what might that be?” 

“you’re intimidated,” changbin shrugs. he presses his lips together and nods. “listen, i get it. it’s normal. you’re just intimidated by these guns.” in a dramatic flare of movement, he poses. double biceps, bulging and sculpted. he pops his pec muscles until you’re giggling. “come on, you wanna touch? you totally wanna touch, bring it in!” 

the first touch to his popping pec makes you squeal, and changbin laughs in accomplishment. he’s successfully gotten you out of your head and he knows it. 

“okay! okay, i mean. i bet i could do that too, i’m just saying.” changbin raises his eyebrows. your comment makes his grin turn mischievous at the corners. “you said something about stretching…?” 

“yes, that’s right! here.” 

changbin leads you in some easy stretches. you stretch your shoulders and your neck and roll your ankles. you’re already feeling loose until you start to work your legs, the butterfly stretch you’re sitting in sends an uncomfortable twinge through your thighs, but that’s the point isn’t it? you’re stretching, loosening your muscles and releasing their tightness. 

changbin finally takes notice of your wincing when you move to stretch your hamstring out. reaching down to your toes isn’t going to happen, but you can at least skirt your fingers across your lower shin. 

“your legs are tense, huh?” changbin asks. he sits up on his knees and walks over to you on them. “let me help?” 

the closer he gets, the more you lean back, and you’re reclined back on your elbows before you know it. changbin kneels between your spread legs and looks to you for confirmation. his hand touches your knee first — and there you go, that touch, you’re ready to bare your neck and give yourself to him. the higher his hand travels, the harder you bite your lip. 

“is this alright?” his voice has gone quiet and slow around the edges, dipped in honey. “i’ll just… i want to help. your muscles must be really tight.” 

you’re nodding before he finishes speaking, but that must not be good enough. changbin keeps his hand above your knee and squeezes it. 

“yes,” you heave, finally finding your words. “it’s alright. you can- you can.” 

the touch moves then, calloused fingers on soft, tender skin. propped up on your elbows like this, you can see everything. the way those thick digits work along your skin, the concentration on his face. his hand slips up your thigh then and squeezes, kneads, bares the heel of his palm against the meat in a semblance of a massage. both of his hands are magical — the dig of his thumb into the quivering muscle of your thigh makes your eyes roll. he pays the same careful attention to your other thigh, his own eyes locked on the heavy caress of his fingers. 

“can i try something else? you’re still so tight here.” 

his ears are pink, but those eyes, that gaze of his. it’s so heavy that it feels like it’s holding you down, pinning you in place. 

your nod is good enough for him this time; maybe you’re not the only one who’s desperate. changbin’s hand smooths up the back of your thigh until it’s cupping underneath your knee. he lifts it then, so slowly that you end up easing off of your elbows and laying flat on your back, leg hoisted over his shoulder like it would be if you were naked together. his breathing has gone ragged, heavy in his belly. yours isn’t much better, and the heat of the room is causing your glasses to fog up. changbin leans his weight forward and stretches your leg back, straightening it out as he goes. it burns, but changbin’s fingers are there to dull the pain into something more bearable. 

he can’t help but lean into you. no matter how strong his thighs are or how balanced his core is, gravity still plays a part in the weight he bears onto you. you can’t help but notice where you’re joined in the middle, the heat of his growing bulge pressed tight to the heat of your cunt while your leg is thrown over his shoulder. your panties are starting to stick to you — can he feel it? can changbin feel how ready you are for him through your layers of clothes? 

he brings your other leg up to show it the same attention, and he eases the first leg down but stretches it to the side, keeping his hand under your knee to keep it bent. your pussy pulses, clenches arrhythmically against his bulge. his gaze goes heavy lidded; he can feel you, he can feel how hungry you are for him but continues stretching your legs despite how hard he’s growing. 

“you’re hard for me. it’s- it’s because of me, isn’t it?” you angle your hips to meet him, and he growls. 

there’s a kiss pressed to your ankle and a squeeze underneath your bent knee. 

“of course it is,” he grunts. “of course it’s because of you. the way your muscles relax for me… it feels so good knowing that i can do that to you.” 

you whine something truly pitiful when he lowers your leg again and eases his weight off of you. he smooths his hands along your thighs, pets down your calves like he’s trying to focus on the feel of your clammy skin rather than the hardness in his shorts. 

“you still up for our workout? those pretty legs of yours should be ready to go now, don’t you think?” 

the change in pace is almost like night and day. you’re not expecting to be left high and dry so quickly, but you did say you’d do his next set with him. funny for you to assume someone your magical glasses brought to life from a treadmill would prioritize sex over a good, old fashioned workout. 

changbin helps you to your feet and leads you toward the television mounted on the wall. he reaches into the console underneath it and pulls out two white remotes with a smug glint in his eye. 

after several countless grueling matches of just dance and three water breaks, you’re completely wiped out. you’re sweating more than you have in a good while, and despite your valiant efforts to stretch your legs, they feel like they’re going to fall off. 

“good game, champ,” changbin heaves from his spot on the floor. thank god you’re not a sore loser — he tore you up. how could you forget he can move his hips like that? changbin has ripped his sweatband off his head and is using it to wipe the sweat off of his face. his adam’s apple bobs as he takes another long swig of water, and droplets streak down his chin when he speaks up again. “you should hit the showers. the water will feel crazy good on all those muscles we just worked. and hey, i really enjoyed myself today! maybe we can do it again sometime, i have a couple other things i’d like for us to try.” 

you can’t tell if he’s coming onto you or if he genuinely just wants you as a workout partner again, but you’d be happy to find out either way. 

changbin swats his sweatband against your ass when you finally leave and throws a handsome wink your way at the turn of your head. 

he’s right though — you should hit the showers. you smell like sweat and workout equipment, and even though you know your boyfriend wouldn’t mind that ever familiar scent, you want to smell nice for him when he gets home. 

conveniently enough, you don’t have to walk very far. your en-suite bathroom is right between your bedroom and the home gym. 

eager to strip your sweaty clothes off, that’s the first thing you do. how ridiculous do you look standing butt ass naked in your bathroom in a pair of yellow sunglasses? oh well. you don’t exactly want to take a shower by yourself, and you need your glasses to do their job. eyeing the glass door does the trick, and you’re in the middle of sliding it open to reach for the nozzle when a calloused hand reaches for yours to stop it, gentle palm caressing the back of yours. 

“let me,” your shower hums with an alluring tone. he’s warm behind you, bare skin on bare skin. “i know you like me hot.” 

changbin cranks the knob in a counterclockwise motion and the water sprays to life. you study him while the water heats up, taking immediate note of the water droplets clinging to his damp hair and beading on his broad shoulders. he’s almost completely naked save for the fluffy blue towel wrapped around his waist. his chest his slick with water, soap bubbles hug his collarbones. changbin’s skin is like strawberries dipped in honey, dewy like he just got out of the shower rather than waiting to get back in it. 

he takes note of your ardent gaze. of course he does, it’s not like you’re hiding the covetous roaming of your pupils across the ridges and curves of that big, slick, soapy body. 

a confident smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when he decidedly drops his towel and stands naked before you. 

you’ve seen him this way more than you can count, bare in the most base, intimate way, but the sight of him still makes you want to prostrate yourself at his altar like a sinner, pleading to a merciful, benevolent god. changbin’s body is a temple, a house of worship that beckons you.  

this changbin doesn’t feign shyness. he lets you look at him, makes himself a spectacle for your viewing. it’s only when the water warms up does he step under the rain of the shower and hold a hand towards you. slick to the touch, you let him help you inside the steaming shower, glasses and all. they fog up from the steam immediately, distorting that seraphic face, that ambrosial body. you see his shape but not his expression, but the tender brush of his fingertips expresses everything his face ever could. 

“you’re so beautiful. i’ve been hoping you would join me like this for so long now. don’t get me wrong, just having you in here every night is special, allowing me to be the one to wash the stress off of your body…” he clicks his tongue. “but this… this is more than i could ever ask for.” 

changbin’s hands glide up your back. he cards his thick fingers through your hair and guides you toward the spray to wet it fully, cupping his hand above your glasses to keep the water from getting in your eyes. 

you cling to his arms. “bin.” 

it’s the first word you’ve spoken to this one, breathless and yearning. 

“sudsy,” he replies just the same way. “let me wash your hair, hm? would you let me?” 

it’s an easy yes, and of course his hands feel like magic. combing through your hair, scratching gentle fingers at your scalp. he manages to rinse the shampoo from your hair even as you cling to him like a limpet, chests pressed together and arms wrapped around the breadth of his shoulders. 

water cascades around you. the soap from changbin’s collarbones thickens and trails between your heaving chests, slicking the slide of your wet skin together. he lets you rub against him, aides the needy curling and desperate writhing of your body with a hand on your waist and another palming the dip of your lower back. the heavy press of his thick thigh between yours is almost earth shattering — everything is so wet, everything, sticky-sweet pussy slipping across his skin with hardly any friction. you whine then; changbin hisses as you dig your nails into his shoulders. 

his lips press feverishly to yours, all wet heat and desire, meshing lips bumping together wildly. he sucks on your tongue and almost sends you to your knees, only held up by the grip he has on you. 

changbin must realize how frantic you’re becoming because he shushes you after he pulls away, nuzzles his wet little nose against yours and takes a deep breath. 

“there’s no rush. there’s no rush, we have time. won’t you enjoy yourself? let your best shower pamper you, sudsy. let me bathe you. let me feel you like that. please? please.” 

he’s already reaching for a wash cloth and your favorite bottle of body wash, but you stop him in his tracks before he’s able to squeeze a dollop onto the rag. your fingers graze his knuckles. changbin looks at you like you hung the moon. more like you hung his curtains.  

“do it with your hands.” 

it’s said quietly enough that it doesn’t read as a command, but changbin takes it as one, eyes pleading and besotted as he rubs his soapy hands together and brings them to your waiting body. changbin is gentle with you. there’s a firmness in his hands as he scrubs you clean, but he’s careful, attentive to the way you react to him. 

a whimper crawls its way out of his throat when he massages the mounds of your chest; his thumbs drag over your peaked nipples that pebble even further under his touch. changbin echoes the small sounds of pleasure you breathe into the air with his own. 

“everything about you is a gift,” he muses. he whispers the words into your neck just as a steady hand snakes between your legs. there’s nothing mechanical about the way he touches you there because he touches you with such devotion, but it’s obvious that his sole intent really is just to bathe you. you wish he’d dip those fingers inside, curl them deep until your legs are trembling and you’re crying out his name. he sucks a slow kiss into your neck, kisses up the length of it to mouth at your cheek. “you’re so warm.” 

he drops to his knees then. it’s a slow fall, purposeful, changbin’s eyes remain locked on yours all the way until he reaches the tile. 

soapy hands slide up your legs, your thighs. he picks up your feet one by one and slips his bubbly fingers between your ticklish toes. you grab onto his shoulders to keep your balance, but soon, all he’s kneeling for is to press reverent kisses to your thighs and the soft skin of your stomach. his hands caress everywhere he can reach. 

“when you…” changbin drags his tongue up your thigh to catch a rivulet of warm water. his words are slurred between insistent kisses. “when you use me to feel good. when you take my showerhead off the wall and use it… you make me so crazy.” 

you throw your head back and moan. you can’t look at him on his knees like this — your glasses are still foggy, still steamed up, but even the muddled shape of him is too much. you curl your fingers into his hair and pull him up, up, up, into another bruising kiss that he reciprocates immediately. 

“it feels so good,” you keen. “it feels so good like that, you make me feel good.” he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth and kisses down your chin. “ahh, baby. bin-baby, you’re making me crazy too. if you won’t fuck me, we- we gotta get out. i can’t- i can’t-”

he shushes you again, taps his thumb against your bottom lip with a small smile. “soon,” he promises. 

changbin dries you off with a towel from the rack, ruffling your hair with it until you squawk at him. he ties his own towel around his waist and disappears from the room completely when you take off your glasses to wipe the fog away with a dry hand towel. he’s right back in sight when you put them back on. changbin smiles fondly but takes a step back when he notices your gaze lingering on the mirror. you fluff your hair, scrunch it out, wipe your hand across the glass to get rid of the clinging steam.

“okay, have fun!” changbin says quickly. “if you get dirty, you’ll just have to come see me again soon, sudsy. i’ll be waiting!” 

he leaves you with a parting wink before rushing out the door of the bathroom. the change of pace is a little odd, you’re not sure why he’s rushing when just a few minutes ago he wanted to take things slowly, but you guess it’s just a silly quirk of his. 

you’re so focused on your own reflection that the second face in the mirror makes you shout. the second face almost looks like it’s on the other side of the mirror looking back at you, and you drop your hairbrush with a clatter as someone pops out of your bathroom mirror and sits before you on the sink. 

a baby blue shirt tucked into a short, crystalline skirt. it’s pleated and reflective, showing off thick thighs and toned legs that end in a platform heel. you look up to see long, dark, beautiful curly hair held away from her face with a clip. glossy lips, a shimmer of glitter on small eyelids. 

“look who finally came to see me!” she exclaims, ruffling two blue and silver pom-poms together in her hands before tossing them excitedly to either corner of the bathroom. she crosses one leg over the other. “you’re even cuter in person, did you know that?” 

you gape at her. even though her bodice is smaller in stature, she still has broad shoulders, her arms still bulge through the tight sleeves of her shirt. there’s a smiley shaped scar on her chin. this is the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen, and she’s undoubtedly, indisputably, remarkably changbin. 

your eyes are drawn lower, so shocked by this new version of your boyfriend — girlfriend?—  filling your space that you can’t stop your ogling, drawn straight to a chest that might just put yours to shame. her breasts are so perky that you wonder if she’s wearing a push up bra underneath her shirt or if that’s just their natural shape. they sit so pretty, they’re so full, oh my god you can’t stop staring— 

you snap your gaze away from her ample chest and try to focus on literally anything else. 

“um, who-? who are you?”

“i’m just your number one cheerleader, of course. it’s me, cutie. your mirror!” 

she scoots off of the sink and flits around the bathroom, heels clomping on the floor every step she takes. you’re still trying to keep your eyes a respectable distance from her boobs, gaze settling on the small basket of dried rose petal and lavender potpourri on your counter when someone else appears out of thin air, an ever faithful reminder of the abilities of your glasses. 

“oh? we must be getting ready for something. can i help?!” 

a second set of heels scurry forward. the hands that touch your arms are covered by lacy lavender gloves, and this other version of changbin meets your eyes in the mirror over your shoulder. poppy pink hair with cascading rose petals sewn into the strands, a delicate, powder pink babydoll dress draped over bronze skin. lavender chiffon wings sprout from the back of the dress like something you’d see a showgirl wearing. it hits you then — overdrawn lips and starkly underlined eyes, pink and purple painted lids — along with the gorgeous cheerleader nosing through your skin care, there’s a drag queen in your bathroom. 

“changmi, my love! of course you can help, i could use an extra set of hands. you wouldn’t mind, cutie, would you?” 

you shake your head. you don’t really know what’s going on, but you don’t think you do mind all that much. 

“what’s the occasion? a night on the town, family get together, a party?” 

changbin presses herself to your side and rests her chin over your other shoulder. changmi sets her chin down too, and it looks like you have three heads. 

“date night,” changbin whispers conspiratorially. “that stud of yours will be home in a little while, won’t he? we need to get you ready! so. what exactly are you feeling, cutie? what can we do to make you feel the best?” 

you think about it, held safely between two versions of one love of your life. you’ve been pulled in different directions all day, heart and body both fighting to satiate their cravings, clawing at each other for scraps. the attention has left you aching, buzzing under the skin with just how much you want changbin in any way you can get him, any version, but the one you covet the most is the one who’s been yours. before the glasses, before you knew of the secret lives of the things within your house. you ache for the touch of the man who wipes your tears and dances with you in the kitchen, the one who asked to be yours all those years ago. 

you want to get fucked, but more than that, you want to show changbin how much you missed him and feel pretty while you do it. 

“there is something,” you start. a matching set waiting patiently in your underwear drawer, cast to the side due to busy nights and shared exhaustion. it’s something changbin surprised you with a while back, sleek black box left on your bed with a sweet, chicken scratch love note, but it’s been so long since then that you think he might have forgotten by now. “but i’ve never worn it? i don’t know how it’ll look on me.” 

“well, let’s find out, shall we?” 

changbin plugs up your hair dryer as changmi flutters to your bedroom to rummage through your underwear drawer. the dryer roars to life, and you’re left shouting over the noise. 

“it should be kinda shoved to the back? the black ones, with the pink flowers? can you- can you find them?” your hair whips into your face and you’re left trying to keep hold of the towel tied around your chest while changbin fusses over your hair. you can’t hear changmi’s heels, but you see her leaning in the doorway out of the corner of your eye, holding up the pretty set of lingerie you were talking about. when the hair dryer clicks off and the deafening roar peters to a stop, changbin whistles. 

“it’s these right?” changmi asks. she holds up the panties so the thong in the back is facing you. she shows the bra next and holds the cups to her own chest. changmi looks at you with raised brows and a teasing grin on her overdrawn lips. “oh, pretty peony. if you ever wore these for me, i wouldn’t let you out of bed.” 

“ohh please, oh please! you’d put your lovely mirror in front of the bed for some extra fun, wouldn’t you?” changbin sighs wistfully. “he’s so lucky. you’re going to look unreal. come on, let’s get you dressed!” 

you can do it yourself, but changbin and changmi won’t let you lift a muscle unless they’re there to assist you. your towel drops to the floor as changbin squats low to help you step into your panties, and she eases them up your legs with a slow finesse, sliding the satin up until the elastic snaps in place at your hips. changmi works you into the bra next, waiting patiently for you to slide your arms through the straps to slip them up your shoulders. changbin joins in then, fretting with the cups of the bra so your boobs can sit comfortably in them while changmi focuses on hooking the clasps at the back. 

it isn’t until changbin steps away from your front that you see yourself in the reflection of the mirror. the longline bra pushes your breasts up and accentuates your cleavage. the lacy demi cups ride so low that the faintest slip of your areolas tease from the top, surrounded by delicate pink flowers and a silky bow in the middle. the matching panties send a flush to your cheeks courtesy of the black mesh covering your public mound, but the black satin on the rest feels nice, feels expensive even, cool against your dewy skin. pink flowers dot the mesh, and a pink ribbon sits primly in the middle of the elastic band. 

“turn around, beautiful,” changbin encourages, and changmi hums. 

you do turn your body to the side, looking over your shoulder at the thin straps of the bra that shows off the length of your back and the curvature of your shoulders. the panties unsurprisingly leave nothing to the imagination, thong dipping sinfully between your cheeks to leave your ass on bold display. 

the set is beautiful. changbin is so thoughtful, both pieces of the set fit perfectly, and you know he picked it out with you in mind. but it’s revealing, it’s new on your body, so you can’t help but feel a little uncertain even though you’re wrapped in such beautiful garments. 

“is it- i mean, do i look okay?” you’re turning the other way now, plucking at fabric and elastic and trying not to nitpick yourself into taking it off. 

“does it not feel good?” changmi asks. she tilts her head, and a coiled lock of pink hair falls to the side. “it’s supposed to make you feel good, rosy. does it not make you feel that way? we can try something else if it doesn’t.” 

“i think it does. i like the way it feels. it’s really soft, and it fits well, but it’s, you know. a lot? is it too much on me?” 

“i don’t think that man of yours would have bought it if he thought it was too much,” changbin smiles, fixing your derailing train of thought by adjusting the track. “but this is about you, cutie! what makes you feel good. what do you like best about it?” 

“well.” you pause to think, another one-eighty in the mirror. “my boobs look really good.” 

“they do! i really like that little peek of skin in the middle, see? right above the ribbon? look how pretty that is.” changmi leans over your shoulder again and brings a manicured, lace-covered finger to point at the sliver of skin she’s talking about. 

“you fit so well in it too. it looks like this was made custom for you, gorgeous, no spillage on the sides, nothing digging in anywhere to make you uncomfy.” 

“the panties are nice too, right?” you ask. “like- my butt does look pretty nice, doesn’t it?” you turn then, all three of you looking at the globes of your ass, black fabric nestled down the crack. 

“baby, there’s a string back there. that’s all you. the panties have nothing to do with it!” 

“i was thinking the same thing, but look! look right there. where the elastic digs into your waist just a little bit? do you see how soft you are here?” changmi growls playfully in your ear, nipping at the lobe. “i wanna bite it.” 

changbin leans in just as close on the other side of you, nuzzling her tiny, scrunched nose at your other ear. “i bet we aren’t the only ones who wanna bite it~”

the front door opening downstairs makes all of you freeze in your tracks. 

“yeobo? i’m home!” 

that springs you into action, wide eyed and frantic, clomping heels and padding feet rush into the bedroom for the finishing touches. all you do is throw on a worn t-shirt of yours to cover up the lingerie you’re really beginning to love. changmi slams your underwear drawer closed, your mirror fusses with your hair and adjusts your glasses on your face. 

changbin calls for you again. 

“just a second!”

changmi rounds the corner of your bed and changbin grabs her hand so they can scuttle away to somewhere else in the house. 

“good luck, beautiful! tell me all about it tomorrow. mmm, though i guess i’ll be able to put the pieces together when you stand in front of me to brush your teeth and you’ve got hickeys everywhere~” 

“and!” changmi rushes. she pulls hard enough on changbin’s hand to stop her in her tracks. changmi leans close to you — she smells like flowers, roses and lavender to be precise. “i’m not just in the bathroom, you know? if you want to see me again under different circumstances, just check that special drawer of your nightstand, buttercup.” 

she lets changbin pull her away then, and you hear the clacking of their heels recede until it disappears altogether.

you don’t bother turning the lamp off before stepping out of your bedroom and padding to the staircase. you see him then, standing at the bottom of the stairs like he’s been waiting in place there ever since he heard your voice. changbin is so handsome, god, the best thing that’s ever happened to you, standing clueless at the base of the stairs with a bag of takeout in his hand and his keys in the other. 

his eyes widen when he hears you bolt down the stairs, but he still manages to catch you with a steady arm as you throw yourself at him, plowing into that warm chest and latching your arms around his shoulders. 

“baby,” you keen. he rocks you in place like he doesn’t mind you throwing yourself at him the way you did, tightening his arm around your back and nestling his chin over your shoulder. “baby, i missed you! i missed you so much.” 

changbin laughs kindly. his warm breath tickles your neck and flutters your hair. “i missed you too, gorgeous. what’ve you been up to today?” 

you pull away from him then, unwrapping your arms from his shoulders and placing your palms on them instead. 

“changbin,” you say seriously. he’s not going to believe the day you had. 

his eyebrows scrunch. that pretty smile ticks at the corner like he’s confused. “you’re still wearing those glasses? have you worn them all day?” he laughs. 

it’s then that you notice the figure standing to your left, ducking his head politely as if to give you a semblance of privacy. your doorman looks up then, and there’s a knowing smile on his face. a look to your right shows a small crowd in the living room. lop ears and wide eyes peek out from behind the couch, your housekeeper sits with his headband in his lap, reaching a hand down to scritch at fuzzy ears. your phone fiddles with the remote, and your enthusiastic treadmill points at the television from beside him. your teddy bear is curled into the corner of the couch, head pillowed by the warm, dewy chest of your shower. if you listen hard enough, you can hear the clicking of heels in the kitchen and the fizzle of something cooking on the stove. 

when you look at your doorman again, he nods his head. 

“we’ll see you again soon, dormouse.” 

yellow fades from your vision when you take the glasses off. you have to blink a few times to adjust your vision to the muted light of your entryway, and you realize just how quiet the house is now. you and changbin are the only two there — a look around shows an empty doorway, an empty living room. silence from the kitchen. 

but the silence isn’t unbearable, not like it was this morning. your house teems with life; how could you ever be lonely in the space you share with changbin? the floor creaks when he adjusts his stance, the rafters crackle and pop their greeting. 

“changbin,” you repeat again, and you’re tugging him up the stairs and to the bedroom before he can even take his crocs off. 

“but- wait, yeobo, the food-?”

“there’s no time!” 

changbin places his keys and the bag of takeout on the entryway table and lets you lead him up the stairs with an eager grip. he’s just as malleable when you push him back onto the bed and crawl on top of him, kissing up the warm skin of his neck while the sound of him kicking off his shoes interrupts that of quiet sighs and slick smacks. you kiss his lips, slow and deep. 

“the glasses are magic,” you mumble into his plump little mouth. you breathe the words into it. “they bring stuff in your house to life-” kiss, “-and they show up as what you desire most-” kiss, “-so i spent all day going around our house meeting different versions of you-” kiss, kiss, kiss, “-because there’s nothing i want more than you.” 

changbin’s breath is ragged. he bares his neck so you have more room to kiss and lifts up to help you rid him of that god awful shirt. your tongue circles his adam’s apple and he shivers. 

“ahhh, mm… muh-, shit- magic?” 

“that’s all you heard?!” you pinch him on the side, but all that does is make him arch into your hands. 

“i can’t focus on anything with you kissing me like that!” changbin whines. 

you let him off the hook because you know he can’t. pleased to know you’ve already got him where you want him, dazed and trusting and open underneath your body, you lean down to suck kisses down his chest. a puffy nipple catches your attention, so you flit your tongue against it until he’s left twitching. he curls into you when you nip it with your teeth, knees bending inwards and knocking against your hips. changbin brings shaky fingers to your hair and pushes it back from your forehead so that he can kiss it, warm, soft lips searing on the skin. 

changbin’s hands go with you as you work your way lower. kisses between his pecs, down to his belly, his sides. you nose at the band of his pants, looking up at him demurely. 

“i’m gonna put you in my mouth, baby.” changbin’s breath stutters in his throat, but he nods nonetheless. “but that’s not where i want you to cum, okay? just let me taste you for a little bit.” 

his eyes flutter when you nuzzle your cheek against the growing bulge in his joggers; they roll when you press your lips to it. changbin helps you take them off, his pants and his boxers, lifting his hips and moving his legs until you’re finally able to pull them from his ankles and toss the offending pair on the floor. 

he’s a sight like this. changbin is all bronze skin and supple curves, a hard, toned body turning itself soft and pliable to your whims. 

he spreads his legs just wide enough for you to be comfortable between them, skin still pressing together in too many places to count. all he wants is to feel you, and your all too happy to be felt, curling between those strong legs and leaning against a thigh to finally wrap greedy fingers around his hardening length. he’s pinking up at the tip, leaking too, a kiss to the head swipes his pre across your lips like a gloss. he feels pleasure so beautifully, those peachy doll lips dropping open to heave a shaky breath, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle. how lucky you are to see him this way. 

changbin’s fingers cup the back of your neck when you finally slip that ruddy tip into your mouth. he drips onto your tongue, and you savor, savor, savor it, holding him in place between your lips just because you can. you build up a slow pace to reacquaint the wet heat of your mouth to that tasty intrusion, bobbing your head up and down on him while he struggles to keep his composure. 

a fondle to his balls has his legs twitching. you feel the muscles in his thigh tense where it’s pressed to your back, eyes flitting up to see changbin with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. you lift yourself off of his cock then to tongue your way down to his heavy sac, soft and furled and full under your fingers as you circle them under the skin. changbin throws his head back then, a choked grunt punching from his chest. 

“fuck,” he heaves. he makes a valiant effort to lift his head back up to watch you suck on his balls, but it must be too much, the sight or the sensation, you’re not sure. either way, his head flops back down on the pillow with a loud moan. “yeobo, god.”

you hum then and suck his cock back into your mouth, massaging his balls as he finally meets the entrance to your throat. the faster your head bobs, the harder changbin fights to keep his composure. he’s tense — muscles jumping under your touch like he’s fighting not to buck himself between your lips at his own pace. he’s never selfish when it comes to his own pleasure, no, he takes what you give him and loves every second of it, but you make him feel so good that his body just can’t help but react. 

it isn’t until changbin is quivering that you ease him from your mouth with a slick sounding pop. his hands take hold of your hips as you begin your ascend up his body, straddling your legs on either side of his hips. reverential eyes take you in, and they widen when you bare yourself to him. you slip the t-shirt over your head and toss it behind you somewhere, leaving you in the set changbin bought just for you. 

“oh,” he whispers. those eyes haven’t left you — they search now, roaming freely, taking in every ounce of you they can. changbin’s rough hands slide gently over your belly, they squeeze your hips. “oh, yeobo. oh, i-” he laughs then, something tight and overwhelmed. “you’re so fucking beautiful.” 

he’s not looking at your body when he says it. his eyes aren’t locked on the swell of your breasts or the mesh covering the mound of your cunt. he’s looking into your eyes as he speaks. 

“yes,” you confirm. his gaze grows heavy. changbin’s eyes only move from yours when you start to lower the shoulder straps of your bra. one at a time, they slink down your arms and stay limp in place at your elbows. you don’t move to take the bra off, you’ll fuck him with it on. “i feel beautiful.” 

your body feels good, you feel soft and powerful where you are. black and pink fabric kisses the contours and dips of your skin in a way that makes you feel confident, even if it took help to get there. changbin helps now too — he lives his life like it’s his purpose to make you feel beautiful, covetous eyes, adoring hands, and honest words. 

you pull your panties to the side and he gasps. your jaw drops too, a low sound leaving your lips at the press of his hot tip to your tender clit. 

you’re suddenly ravenous for it, unable to stop the bump of your hips that rubs you against the length of him. your swollen lips hug him like that, covering him in that sticky-sweet slick he’s coaxed out of you. you’d fuck him like this if you didn’t feel a bone-deep need to have him inside. you’ve been wound up on and off all day, teased, kept on the precipice, and who better to guide you down than the one who started it all? 

one knee on the bed, you lift up onto the ball of your foot and reach for his cock. changbin angles his hips to help, squeezing your hips and holding steady for you to take him however you please. 

you sink down on him slowly, not stopping until you’re seated on him fully. changbin pets your belly; you cup his hand and caress his knuckles. he’s the perfect fit. your hips move on their own accord, familiarizing yourself to the sweet stretch you love so much.

if lifting back up on your knees feels like rapture, dropping back down feels like creation, an uninhibited moan leaving your lips when you fill yourself with him again and again. 

“this is mine.” you place your palms on his chest and ride, breasts finally popping out of your bra at your rough pace. “your cock is mine, changbinnie, it’s mine. mine to use, mine to play with, mine to- fff- ah!” 

you’re losing control, so changbin gives you his. 

“yes, baby,” he nods. his gaze is heavy, lashes fluttering like it’s taking all of his effort to keep them open. changbin licks his lips and groans, bringing his hands up to wrap around your wrists. 

“it’s mine,” you repeat. “you’re mine.”

he’s already confirming before you’re done talking. “all of me is yours. every part of me, gorgeous.” 

he hits deep like this, even deeper when his hips start to move on their own and aid your pleasure, bucking just as you drop down onto him so he strokes deeper. his hips move so effortlessly, the glide of him slick and dirty. your juices drip down the base of his cock and to his heavy balls that smack against you wetly as he thrusts upwards. every time you drop down on him, it shocks a cry from his lips. every time he fucks up into you, you repeat his name like a prayer. the slap of skin echoes noisily, the rhythm breaking in your desperation to have him.

the only thing about desperation is that your body can’t always keep up with it. your limbs grow tired before you want them to, your heart pounds just a little too fast, and your breathing turns a little too laborious. you whine, hands scrambling across his slick, heated skin for more leverage to no avail. your head hurts, you feel heavy, your muscles burn, and changbin pulls you down before you can start to panic. 

“hey, hey,” he coos. your breasts press flush to his warm chest, and his hands rub up and down your back. he hasn’t stopped fucking you, thank god, the beat of his cock has turned slow, softer than before. “i’m right here. i’m right here with you, beautiful.” 

it’s easier like this. it was good before, and it’s good now, in a different kind of way. you can kiss him like this, feel his thundering pulse under your fingertips when they wrap around his throat just to touch him more. changbin’s mouth can’t help but falter — he’s all too focused on the rhythm of his hips to choreograph the movement of his tongue or the pucker of his lips, so you use his mouth how you like, sucking on his tongue and nipping at his bottom lip when he fucks into that spot you like the most. you clench on him then, hugging him tight with tender walls to keep him where you need him. changbin twitches inside of you.

you rest your forehead on his. changbin’s breathing is uneven against your mouth, sweet, airy moans leaving his lips and slipping between yours. you’re not fairing any better. he feels too good, his cock inside where it belongs and his arms around you, being intimate like this in the bed you share, in the house you live in together. 

“‘m gonna cum,” you mumble. it builds so fast that you gasp, body jolting on top of his at the warm, tingling sensation of a rapidly building orgasm. “baby. baby, baby- you’re gonna make me cum.” 

“please. please cum for me, please. ah, my heart, show me how perfect you are when you cum on me… when you cum on this cock that belongs to you.” 

he kisses the wail from your lips as you do, squirming fitfully on top of him and only held in place by the embrace of his arms. changbin is never far off after that. the clenching of your cunt, the sweet pulse of your orgasm always pulls his right out of him. he cums inside with a hiss, slamming his hips up one final time and using his grip on your back to push you down onto him so that you can take his cum deep. 

you lay in his arms until your legs are going numb, finally using that as your excuse to pull off of him and throw a leg over his thigh, curling into his side. you’re going to drip cum all over his side, but you know he’ll only fuss a little bit, and he’ll do it with a smile on his face. 

it isn’t until you’ve both caught your breath that changbin gets up to wet a cloth to clean you with. 

you turn onto your side and watch him turn the water on in the bathroom, standing naked and sated under the bright light. 

“ah, wait, i meant to tell you when i got home,” he says. changbin wrings out the cloth over the sink and comes back into your bedroom to wipe you down. he gets your hot spots and focuses his attention between your legs. “hyunjinnie texted earlier today and asked how you were liking the glasses?” 

“hyunjin bought them for me?!” 

“mm, he said something about waiting to see what you thought before he bought his own pair.” 

“so i’m his guinea pig.”

changbin laughs. “i guess so, yeobong.” 

a few minutes of talking go by, and changbin finally makes himself get up again to throw the cloth in the hamper. 

your yellow glasses are sitting askew on the far side of the bed. he picks them up and surveys them before putting them on his own face. 

changbin rounds the bed again and walks to the door of the bathroom. “so you’re telling me,” he starts. “you spent the entire day romancing all of these random objects in our house because of these glasses?” 

“yeah! they were able to bring stuff to life, i dunno how.” 

“and they were all me?! will- will i be able to see them too?” 

that’s a question you don’t know the answer to, but you have a good idea of who could find the answer in the blink of an eye. 

“i’m not really sure? i think it might be different for every person. like, you see what you desire most? but i mean, maybe. all you have to do is, like, focus your eyes on something you want to bring to life, and somebody will appear.” 

he huffs then, puts his hands on his hips and looks around the bathroom. 

you turn back over to lay flat on your back, nuzzling your head on the pillow to get comfortable. you don’t stay relaxed for long. 

“oh. wuh- wah!” changbin shouts. 

“bin? what’s wrong?” you sit up in bed but can’t see anything out of the ordinary, other than changbin standing naked and wide eyed in the bathroom with your glasses on his face. 

“yeobo, you’re yellow,” he says very seriously. his eyes are still wide, but he’s not looking at you. “y-you’ll squeak if i squeeze you?” your eyebrows raise. of course he’s not seeing himself in these glasses at all, of course he’s seeing— “squeeze you where? a-anywhere?!” 

changbin’s still staring at something you can’t see. if you lean far enough to the left, you can follow his gaze. you snort a goofy laugh when your eyes spot the only yellow item in your bathroom, something you wouldn’t have thought about twice. 

the bed is too big without him. you want to curl around him again and fall asleep with your hand resting over his heart. 

“changbinnie,” you call sweetly. “why don’t you take those glasses off and come to bed, baby? you can talk to our rubber duck tomorrow.” 

[lveegsoi]

a little e preview of my current wip. im super excited to finish it, but i have no idea when that’s gonna be. let’s hope i manage to finish it by the end of the week

if you want to be tagged when it comes out let me know 🩷

[lveegsoi]

hiiiii... can u write something like, doctor jungwon with nurse reader... and the reader suffers an accident...

Dr. Yang, Can You Not?

Pairing: Surgeon! Jungwon x Nurse! Fem! reader

Synopsis: Being a nurse means long hours, short breaks, and trying not to stare too long at Jungwon, or so we call, Dr. Yang Jungwon, during rounds. No one said falling for a surgeon would be part of the job description, but here we are.

Author's Note: This was honestly the hardest thing I’ve ever written 😭 It took so much time and research because I wanted to reflect the reality of hospital life. Writing a story where the characters are both grounded was a challenge, but I learned a lot from it. Huge thank you to the anon who requested this. I’m so sorry it took forever to finish. I poured my heart into it. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I struggled writing it 😭💉 Happy reading! 💗

Content Warning: Please note that this is a fictional story. While I did a lot of research to make the hospital setting feel real, this does not accurately represent actual medical procedures or protocols. This was written for entertainment purposes only. This story mentions blood, injuries, fainting, medical emergencies, and heavy emotional moments. Also includes cursing and unfiltered language at times. Please read with care!

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Being a nurse isn’t easy. It’s not like the shows, and it’s not like what people outside the hospital think it is. There’s no time to breathe when you’re responsible for lives. You learn to control your emotions, move fast, and think faster. And even then, mistakes happen.

You knew something was off the moment the shift slowed down. The patient was fine, but the chart wasn’t. There’d been an update, a new dosage written in right after you made the rounds. Jungwon, or so everyone calls, Dr. Yang, had caught it. He said nothing then, only glanced at the chart and walked off. He asked to speak to you in the staff lounge an hour later. He didn’t sit. He didn’t lecture. “Walk me through what happened,” he said, arms crossed. He seemed calm but unreadable.

You shifted your weight. “It was bed 14. The chart was updated, but I didn’t double-check. I was covering trauma for Jina, running back and forth. I saw the old dosage and went with it. I didn’t mean to cut corners. I…I missed it.” He didn’t interrupt. You continued, “The update must’ve come through after I’d already prepped, and I know that doesn’t excuse anything. I was responsible for checking again, but I didn’t, Dr. Yang.”

For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then he exhaled lightly. “Patient’s fine. No harm done. I logged it as a near miss.” You nodded, but it didn’t feel like relief. Only a confirmation of what you already feared, that it had been close. Too close. “You’re not careless,” he added. “You’ve been consistent. One mistake doesn’t change that. But next time, don’t rush. Even if you’re covering, you say something.”

“I will,” you said. You meant it. He looked at you for a moment longer and asked. “Are you alright?” You hesitated, “I’m just mad at myself.”

That seemed to land with him. Not sympathy, he wasn’t the type, but understanding. “Good. You should be. Means you won’t let it happen again.” He turned toward the door, paused with his hand on the knob. “If it starts feeling too much, don’t wait until it breaks you. Say something sooner.”

And that was the thing with Jungwon. He wasn’t that warm, but when it mattered, he was present. And in a place where lives hang by a thread daily, that meant everything.

🚑

You were slumped on the break room couch with your wrinkled scrubs and hair clipped up with zero effort. Jina had her feet on the table, unbothered by hospital etiquette, while Ara tried to get the vending machine to accept her crumpled bill for the fourth time. “Just accept your fate. No snacks for you,” Jina mumbled while eyes half-shut. “I just want a chocolate bar,” Ara said, pressing the buttons with the desperation of someone clinging to hope. “This hospital is cursed.”

“I could’ve told you that,” you muttered. “I almost gave the wrong dosage to bed 14 today.” That woke Jina up. “Wait, what?”

You shrugged. “Dr. Yang caught it. He asked me to walk him through it. No yelling, though. It’s only that terrifying calm voice.”

“Oh no,” Ara groaned, flopping onto the chair beside you. “The ‘walk me through it’ is worse than yelling. It’s like guilt, shame, and a midlife crisis all in one sentence.”

“I kept waiting for the part where he tells me I’m off the schedule next week,” you said.

“And did he?” Jina raised an eyebrow.

“No. He said I’m not careless. Which somehow made me feel worse.”

“Because now you have a reputation to protect,” Ara said, poking your leg with her foot. “Welcome to hell.” She added. “Nurses from the third floor were hanging around the corridor again.” You didn’t look up from your notes. “What for?”

“Dr. Yang was in OR 3. Apparently, the supply room suddenly became the most visited place in the hospital.” Jina gave a tired laugh as she unwrapped her sandwich. “It’s funny. The way they pretend to be casual with clipboards in hand.” You shook your head. “They’ll be disappointed. He barely even looks up unless it’s patient-related.”

“That’s what makes him kind of intimidating,” Ara said. “Not in a mean way. He’s just strict and focused.” Jina nodded. “Still better than the others. He won’t call you out in front of a patient. He corrects you once, and that’s it. But you remember.

You responded, “It’s the way he talks. He never raises his voice, but you know when he means business.”

Ara smirked. “The ‘walk me through it’ line?”

You smiled faintly. “Exactly.”

“I swear, we’re running on caffeine and instinct at this point,” Jina muttered. “Mostly instinct,” you said. “Barely any caffeine left.” Ara sighed. “Two more hours. Let’s make it.” You all stood up slowly, the weariness showing in the way your bodies moved. No complaints, though.

Someone mentioned a patient needing to be checked on in the ICU, but no one asked who would go.

You were already moving.

🚑

Everyone looked like shit but the thing was, no one complained too much. Because this was real work. Messy, exhausting, nonstop and honestly, no one had time to be pretty at 4 AM. Jina was slouched in the nurse’s station chair. “If I die, make sure they clean my brows before the funeral.”

“You’re not dying,” Ara said. “You’re just decaying slowly.”

You leaned your head against the counter. “Why does this shift feel like three years?”

“Because it is,” Ara answered. “Time bends here.”

Someone was wheeling a portable vitals cart down the hallway with one squeaky wheel screaming for help. Another nurse was trying to untangle IV tubing. Then, Jungwon walked past.

Everyone straightened, not because he was scary in a mean way, but because, somehow, he made you want to be on your A-game. He wasn’t the type to raise his voice or humiliate anyone. He only had that stare. You weren’t feeling any fear. It was only respect… and fine, a lot more fear. Jina whispered, “I swear I saw four nurses almost break their necks earlier just watching him.” Then, you sighed, grabbed your tablet, stood up, and headed down the hall to follow up on a urine output. Another hour in the hospital.

🚑

You were replacing the ECG leads on Mr. Choi, the elderly patient in room 305, again, for the third time this week. He’d somehow peeled them halfway off while adjusting his pillow and now acted like the whole thing was a crime against his freedom. “They itch,” he grumbled, crossing his arms as you prepped new stickers. “They always itch, Mr. Choi,” you said, not looking up. “But you don’t pull them off unless you want a lecture and a delay in meds.”

“I wasn’t pulling, I was just adjusting.”

“Mmhmm,” you muttered, pressing the last lead down. “Try adjusting your expectations next time.” The monitor beeped back to normal. You were currently logging the change when footsteps approached. You didn’t have to look up. Jungwon stepped in, making a quick scan of the room. “What happened?”

“Monitor alarm. Leads were off,” you answered. “I reattached and checked his rhythm. Stable, Dr. Yang.”

Jungwon nodded once. “Noted. Thank you.” Then to Mr. Choi, “Please avoid touching anything connected to your heart.”

“I was itchy,” Mr. Choi replied while unfazed. Jungwon raised a brow but said nothing. Mr. Choi snorted and asked you something, acting as if Jungwon wasn’t still in the room. “He always like that?”

“Like what?”

Mr. Choi said, “Serious and stern. He looks like he hasn’t slept since med school.”

You shrugged while double-checking your chart. “He works harder than anyone here.”

“Still,” Mr. Choi leaned in slightly. “You two close?”

You gave him a confused look. “Close?”

Jungwon was already turning to leave when Mr. Choi piped up,

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Jungwon stopped walking for half a second, then glanced over his shoulder. “She has standards, Mr. Choi.” And with that, he walked out. You rolled your eyes, more at Mr. Choi than anyone else, as you adjusted the blanket over him. Mr. Choi chuckled. “I didn’t say he was a bad pick.”

You grabbed the used gauze wrappers off the tray. “You need sleep, not gossip.”

🚑

You walked alongside Jungwon. Both of you were fresh off the emergency. Then, “You didn’t hesitate,” Jungwon said after a while, eyes ahead, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Your hands were steady.”

You responded. “Only because I wasn’t thinking. If I did, I’d probably pass out.”

“Still, you didn’t.” His voice wasn’t praising, though, and you could tell he was honest.

You glanced sideways at him. “I thought you were gonna snap when the interns froze.”

“I was too busy watching you fix it,” he replied, catching you off guard. You didn’t respond to that. Instead, you pushed the med room door open with your shoulder. Inside, a couple of nurses were slumped in chairs. You sank into the chair near the sink and muttered, “We all look like expired yogurt.” Someone snorted. “Speak for yourself. I’m aged cheese.”

Laughter broke out softly among the tired group. Mr. Choi, poked his head out from his door down the hall, despite clearly being told to stay inside and rest. His voice carried just enough. “Is he your boyfriend?” he asked, pointing a bony finger toward Jungwon, who was still standing and looking like he was re-running the code blue in his head. You rolled your eyes before anyone else could speak. “Mr. Choi, that’s Dr. Yang.”

But before you could add anything else, Jungwon glanced straight-faced and said, “That’d be inappropriate, Mr. Choi. She hasn’t even bought me dinner.” A few of the nurses choked on their drinks. You were more surprised than anything, but he was already walking off, as if he hadn’t just dropped a line like that mid-shift.

Mr. Choi gave you a smug little grin. “He’s funny. Keep that one.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and muttered again, louder this time, “That’s Dr. Yang, Mr. Choi.”

You didn’t like to admit it, but fine. Dr. Yang was handsome. Everyone knew it. He had that put-together look that didn’t fade even after sixteen-hour shifts. Smart, obviously. Strict, but not in a way that made nurses cry in the break room. He never raised his voice. He never embarrassed anyone. He just had this way of watching, of waiting for you to catch your mistake, and that alone was enough to make your palms sweat. People either avoided eye contact or found excuses to hang around him. Neither was a good look. Not here, especially not when you were trying to survive the night without mislabeling another patient chart. Besides, it’s not like you saw him in any new light. You’d always known what he was like.

That didn’t mean you weren’t hyper-aware of how he had just made a joke… wait, was it really a joke? ugh, Dr. Yang is so unreadable.

You shook it off, reaching for the clipboard again.

🚑

You had been rushing. Everyone was. It was one of those nights where the ER felt like a war zone, and every second counted. You didn’t double-check the medication. You trusted the label and moved on, but it wasn’t the correct dose. And now, Mrs. Han was in respiratory distress.

The room was already tense. Monitors blared, voices raised, and people rushed around. Jungwon stepped in, glanced at the scene, and didn’t hesitate. Orders flew from his mouth. You followed them silently, your hands moving even as your stomach twisted. It wasn’t until after Mrs. Han had stabilized, wheeled off to the ICU, that it hit. The error. Your error.

You were the last one left in the trauma room, standing beside the cart, staring down at the vial.

“(Name).”

You turned. Jungwon was standing by the door.

“Walk me through it.”

You swallowed. “I-I grabbed the vial from the backup tray. I didn’t recheck the dosage. I thought it was-“ You shook your head. “I was wrong.” He didn’t interrupt. “I know I should’ve rechecked,” you finished. “I didn’t. That’s on me.” There was a long silence.

His eyes were unreadable. “Do you know what could’ve happened if we hadn’t caught it?”

You nodded.

“You’re lucky we were in a room full of capable staff,” he said. His voice wasn’t cold, though disappointment was obvious. “But next time, we might not be.” You looked down. “I don’t expect perfection,” he continued. “But I do expect care. And tonight, you were careless.” It stung. Not because he was yelling; he wasn’t. That would’ve been easier. But because he sounded like he meant every word, like he’d expected better from you and trusted better.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I know,” he replied. “But don’t make me say this twice.” Then he turned and left, not slamming the door, not throwing a glance back. Gone because he had patients to check and didn’t have time to carry your guilt for you. You stood there longer, trying not to let it show on your face: frustration and shame. Then you squared your shoulders.

There was still a shift to finish.

🚑

You didn’t mean to cry. You told yourself you’d hold it together until the end of the shift. But after the adrenaline wore off, it hit you all at once. The weight of what happened and what could’ve happened. You found an empty supply room. No one ever checked here unless they were restocking. You slid down against the wall, hidden behind metal shelves stacked with gauze and tubing. Your shoulders shook before you realized you were crying.

You weren’t afraid of being scolded again. That already happened. You were worried that you’d become a nurse people didn’t want to work with. That Jungwon wouldn’t trust you again. The door creaked. You wiped your face quickly, seeing Jungwon, but it was useless. Your eyes were red. Your breath gave you away. He didn’t speak right away. Just stood at the entrance, silent, before gently closing the door behind him. “I figured I’d find you here,” Jungwon said.

You didn’t look up.

“I’m not hiding, Dr. Yang,” you muttered.

“I didn’t say you were.” He walked closer.

“I’m fine,” you added, quietly. He crouched down, not too close, enough so you wouldn’t have to raise your head to see him. “You made a mistake,” he said calmly. “And it scared you. That’s normal.” You didn’t reply. “I was hard on you,” he continued. “Because I know you’re better than that.” That made you look up at him, surprised. “If I thought you weren’t capable,” he said, “I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”

The tears started again silently, not because of the mistake, but because he still believed in you. He noticed. You could tell, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he stood up and reached for a box of gauze on the shelf. Pulled a piece from the sterile pack and handed it to you as if it were a tissue. You laughed barely as you took it and dabbed at your face. He didn’t smile, but his voice was gentler now.

“Come on. They’ll start thinking you passed out in here.”

You stood. As you opened the door, he paused beside you.

“(Name).”

You glanced up.

“I’m not giving up on you. Don’t give up on yourself.” Then, he walked away. You followed him out of the supply room minutes later, face wiped clean but eyes still swollen. You thought he’d already disappeared into his rounds, but when you turned the corner by the nurses’ station, he leaned slightly against the counter. He looked up the moment he heard your steps. He said, “Drink some water and eat something, if you can.” You gave a slight nod, ready to keep walking, but then he added, “If you’re not steady, I don’t trust you next to my patients.”

It was teasing, almost.

Was he…?

But before you could respond, he reached behind the desk and placed something on top. A granola bar. You stared at it. Then at him. “You carry snacks now?” you asked cautiously.

His lips curved upwards a little bit. “I carry them for nurses who forget to eat.” That wasn’t in the manual. That wasn’t part of any protocol. And suddenly, despite your pounding head and sore feet, you felt something, not from shame or pressure, but something else entirely. “Thank you,” you murmured. He gave a slight nod. And as you walked away, that granola bar in hand, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps you didn’t see him in the same light anymore.

Maybe… he didn’t see you the same, either.

🚑

It’s your day off. Yey!

You were halfway through reheating leftovers when your phone buzzed. An unknown number. You almost declined it, assuming the hospital admin asked if you could cover another shift because, of course, something told you to pick it up. “Hello?”

“It’s Jungwon.”

Your back straightened. You stared at your microwave as if it had betrayed you. “I got your number from admin,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting. “You left your ID. I figured you’d need it before your next shift.”

“Oh. Right,” you said. “Thanks, Dr. Yang. I didn’t notice.”

“You’re off today, aren’t you?”

“Yeah… I barely got out of bed.”

You could hear a street in the background. He wasn’t at the hospital.

“I’m passing near your neighborhood. You want me to drop it off?”

That was embarrassing. You almost said no. Almost. But you didn’t.

Ten minutes later, you opened your gate, and there was Jungwon in jeans and a jacket. Of course, his hair is still neat because even off-duty, the man probably came with auto-pressed laundry. You, on the other hand, looked like a glitch in the system. He handed the ID over. “Here. Try not to leave it next time. You’ll get locked out of med storage again.”

You took it, trying not to cringe too hard at how you probably smelled like instant noodle seasoning. “Thank you, Dr. Yang.”

He looked at you with a tinsy tiny bit of amusement. “You look like you lost a fight with sleep.”

You snorted. “Sleep won.”

He chuckled softly, then nodded toward the small garden beside your gate. “Nice plants.”

You did a sheepish smile. “They’re mostly dying.”

“Well, it’s still nice.” Then he stepped back. “See you on Monday.” Then he left.

🚑

You clocked in early. After last week, you weren’t about to give anyone a reason to question you again, especially not him. “Early,” came a voice behind you. You turned to see Jungwon standing a few steps away, watching you with that unreadable expression he always seemed to wear in the mornings.

You didn’t falter. “I had things to double-check.”

He nodded, stepping closer to glance at the tablet in your hand. “That’s good.”

You turned your attention to the patient notes again. And it’s as if he could read your mind. “We all make mistakes, but most people don’t take responsibility the way you did,” he continued. “That matters more than pretending to be perfect.”

Your throat felt tight, but you managed, “I don’t like being anyone’s disappointment.”

“You’re not,” he said. “Not to me.”

You didn’t respond. Well, you couldn’t, but something inside you loosened. You didn’t need to smile. He didn’t need to stay. He turned to go, but as he passed, he said. “I’ll see you on rounds.” And just like that, he was gone.

Mid-Morning Break.

You walked down the hallway with two other nurses, Suho and Mei, equally sleep-deprived. “My feet are about to give up,” Mei groaned, adjusting her ponytail. “I swear one more emergency, and I’m just gonna roll myself into a supply closet and nap.”

“You already did that last week,” Suho pointed out, bumping her with a shoulder.

“I wasn’t caught, was I?”

You smiled faintly, their banter pulling you out of your head. The conversation changed between patient updates and who had the worst shift this week. It was a tie between Suho nearly getting puked on and Mei assisting during a dislocated shoulder pop-in. Then Mei slowed her steps, nudging you lightly. “So,” she said, dragging out the word like a tease. “You and Dr. Yang?”

You look at her confused. “What?”

“Don’t play innocent,” Suho added. “He doesn’t talk to anyone like that. I’ve seen him reduce interns to dust with just a stare. But with you? I mean, that voice of his went down an octave.”

“Probably because he was giving feedback,” you muttered.

“Yeah, feedback with undertones,” Mei said, raising a brow. “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t notice how he looks at you.”

You exhaled. “He’s strict. He’s focused. He’s not the type to flirt in the middle of a hospital.”

Mei laughed. “Maybe not the type to flirt but the type to admire.”

“Guys, it’s Dr. Yang,” you reminded them, emphasizing his title. “And we’re all professionals.”

“Sure,” Mei said, smug. “But don’t act surprised when he offers to ‘professionally walk you to the vending machine’ again.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer because no matter how much you told yourself not to think about it… You were.

🚑

You were reviewing the chart for Mr. Yoon’s post-op medication when Dr. Kim stormed in. He was loud, always had been, but today, he seemed on edge. “Nurse,” he barked, slapping a clipboard on the desk. “Why wasn’t Mrs. Han’s dressing changed on time? It’s written here that it was scheduled two hours ago.”

You momentarily were thrown off. “I- I was assisting Dr. Nam with Mr. Yoon’s complication. I had already prepped the materials for Mrs. Han, but I asked Jeongmin to-”

“Don’t pass the blame,” Dr. Kim snapped. “If you can’t keep up, maybe you shouldn’t be here. Patients don’t wait on excuses.” You clenched your jaw and swallowed your pride. You knew you worked hard, but it felt like your chest shrank right there in front of everyone. And then, like timing written into the day itself, a new voice cut in. More calm and instantly commanding. “Dr. Kim,” Jungwon said as he stepped into view. “I asked her to stay with Mr. Yoon.”

Dr. Kim stiffened. “That’s not relevant to-”

“It is,” Jungwon interrupted. “He was crashing. She stabilized him. I’m the one who pulled her from the schedule. If you have a problem, bring it up with me.” The whole station went quiet. Damn. Dr. Kim mumbled something about “communication” before turning and walking off, still grumbling under his breath. You stayed frozen for a second. Then you turned to look at Jungwon.

“Thanks,” you said. You could feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“I told you,” he said. “You care. You make the right calls. That matters.” You gave a weak nod. He looked at you for another second. Then: “Don’t skip water just because you’re busy.”

“Huh?”

He held out a paper cup. “Coffee machine’s still broken.” You took it without protest. Then he turned, walking off without another word. And though people surrounded you, somehow, the only thing you noticed was that paper cup in your hand.

🚑

You’d finally clocked out, hands still smelling faintly of alcohol swabs, and your back sore from standing too long. You opened your locker slowly, half-asleep, when a soft knock at the door made you turn. It was Jungwon. He didn’t walk in fully. His hair looked a little messy; clearly, he hadn’t gotten a chance to rest. “I figured you were still here,” he said. How was he able to know where you are every time?

You tried not to look too startled. “Yeah… decompressing.”

He nodded once. “Me too.” Then he stepped forward, holding out something in a napkin.

You squinted. “What’s that?”

“A red bean bun. They were giving them out in Pediatrics. I grabbed one. Then grabbed another one. I don’t know why.” He shrugged, setting it down near your things. “Thought maybe you’d want one. He continued, “You were good today.”

You let out a half-scoff. “I almost got chewed out again, Dr. Yang.”

“And you still stood your ground,” he replied. “That’s why I said good.” His voice wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t overly kind, either. It was sure like he believed it completely.

You didn’t mean to, but your eyes watched him a little longer this time. You always thought of him as composed, brilliant, slightly intimidating but right now… he only looked human. Tired, real. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

He gave a faint smile. “Eat then go home.” And as he turned, he added without looking back, “You always forget to take care of yourself. Don’t make me keep reminding you.”

The door swung shut behind him.

��

The breakroom felt alive for once. Eyebags and half-buttoned uniforms didn’t stop the nurses laughing like it was payday. You sat slouched between Jina and Ara, poking at a plastic-wrapped sandwich you weren’t planning to eat. The three of you had just finished a rough rotation. “Okay, but tell me the truth,” Ara whispered loudly. “Would you say yes if Dr. Yang ever asked you out?”

You groaned, “Don’t. Ask. Don’t start.”

Jina snorted into her mug. “You didn’t even deny it.”

“I’m tired,” you deadpanned, dragging your hand down your face. “This is harassment.” You continued, “He’s literally right there,” you added through clenched teeth, glancing toward the corner where Dr. Yang was washing his hands post-surgery, sleeves rolled. He looked like a health campaign poster. Unfortunately, Jina smirked. “Watch this.”

“Dr. Yang!” Ara called sweetly across the room.

You nearly slammed your forehead on the table. “I swear if you say-”

“If someone like her asked you out,” Jina said, jerking her thumb at you, “would you say yes?”

The room went silent. Jungwon dried his hands calmly. “I don’t date coworkers.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Exactly. See?” you muttered.

He turned, tossed the towel aside, and added coolly, “But I never said I wouldn’t make an exception.”

The breakroom erupted.

“OH MY GO-”

“Okay, but WHAT-”

“I need air-”

Ara threw a pillow across the table. Jina screamed. You stared blankly ahead. “Unprofessional,” you muttered, cheeks burning, but the smile tugging at your lips said otherwise.

🚑

You were eating out with Dr. Yang.

Yeah. You read that right.

You were sitting across from Dr. Yang Jungwon, chopsticks in hand, in some little restaurant that he, of all people, apparently knew about. He was the same man everyone in the hospital either feared, admired, or had an embarrassing crush on. Now here he was, casually dipping grilled meat into sauce like he hadn’t just invited you out.

Okay, don’t look at me like that. I know what this looks like. But you don’t get to judge me. It’s Dr. Yang, hello?

You cleared your throat, forcing your eyes to stay on your plate. “I still think this is kind of… inappropriate.”

He didn’t even stutter. “Inappropriate?”

You nodded. “We work together.”

He shrugged. “We’re not in work right now. We’re off-duty. Technically, we’re just two people eating lunch.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Do you always say stuff that conveniently works in your favor, Dr. Yang?”

Jungwon smiled, a little smug. “Only when I want to make a point.”

You tried to hide the way your heart was beating so fast. This man. This frustrating, composed, dangerously intelligent man. You poked at your rice. “Just to be clear, this is lunch. Not a date.”

He met your eyes. “Sure.” And then, right as you sipped your drink, he added, “Unless you want it to be.”

You nearly choked.

“Dr. Yang-.”

“It’s Dr. Yang on duty,” he said. “But right now? It’s Jungwon.”

SHITTT. You hated how warm your face felt, but couldn’t even deny it anymore. This man was dangerous. You leaned back in your seat. “You know…” You began, “You’re always so hard to read.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, sipping his water. “Am I?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, tapping your chopsticks against your bowl. “So tell me then. What were your thoughts on me?”

“The first time we met?”

“Yeah.”

He set his glass down slowly. “You were…fast.”

“Fast?”

“Quick on your feet. Quicker with your mouth,” he said with his lips twitching. “I thought you were a bit arrogant.”

You gave him a look. “That’s rich coming from you.” Which, to your surprise, he laughed. Woah. That was the first time you’ve seen him laugh like this. “But,” he added, “I also saw how you handled that mess on the third floor. I remember thinking, ‘Okay… she’s not just talk.’”

You raised a brow. “So you didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t know you,” he replied. “But I was curious.”

You paused for a moment. “And now?”

He didn’t answer right away. He properly looked at you. Not in the way people do when thinking of the correct answer, but he already knew it and was deciding if he should say it aloud. “Now I think I want to know more.”

You stirred your iced drink lazily.

“I used to think you were married,” you said out of nowhere.

Jungwon looked up from his plate. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. When I first met you years ago.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

You shrugged. “You walked around like someone with a ring on his finger. You look like you have a family waiting at home.” Jungwon let out a low chuckle and answered. “That’s one way to describe me.”

“Well,” you added, smirking slightly, “I was wrong. Obviously.”

He leaned back in his seat. “So what else did you assume about me back then?”

You took a sip of your drink. “I thought you were distant. The type who wouldn’t remember anyone’s name unless they were on your level.”

He was amused. “That bad, hm?”

“But,” you said, letting the words slow down, “then I watched you work. The way you talk to patients’ families. The way you don’t raise your voice when you’re mad… And you always back up the people, even when no one’s around to see it.”

His eyes were on you. “So what do you think of me now?”

You matched his tone. “I think you’re nothing like I assumed.”

He smiled. “And you? I assumed you were all walls. Smart, yes. Efficient but distant.”

You looked at him.

“And now?”

He shrugged gently. “Now I know better.” He picked up his drink again, eyes not leaving yours. “You know,” he said, “you surprised me too.”

You tilted your head. “How so?”

“At first, I thought you hated me,” he admitted. “You never smiled when I passed by. You were always busy avoiding eye contact.”

“That’s called being professional,” you shot back with a small laugh.

“Mm,” he hummed. “That, or you were trying really hard not to fall for me.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

He leaned in just slightly, wearing that maddeningly calm expression of his. “It’s only a theory. No judgment.”

You were trying to play it cool. “Your ego’s showing, Jungwon.”

He smiled. “Perhaps or probably I’m finally saying what we’ve both been thinking.” You opened your mouth to argue, maybe to deny it, maybe not, but the waitress arrived with dessert, breaking the moment. He picked up his spoon, but his eyes didn’t leave you, and just before digging in, he said, “But if I’m wrong… you’re free to prove me wrong next time. Over dinner again.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh, blush, or throw your spoon at him. All three, probably.

Dr. Yang, your foot. This man was trouble.

It has been a few, maybe longer, minutes. You were halfway through your dessert, still mentally reeling from Jungwon’s earlier comment, when a hacking cough cracked. You looked up, and just a few tables away, a woman clutched at her throat, her face already beginning to swell. Her husband jumped from his seat, panic in his eyes. “Help! Someone, please! My wife- she’s having an allergic reaction!” he shouted, knocking his chair over.

Your spoon clattered onto your plate. Jungwon was already standing. Without a word, you followed. The moment snapped both of you into motion. You weren’t just a nurse, and he wasn’t just a surgeon. You were trained professionals. This was instinct. “Do you have an EpiPen?” Jungwon asked immediately, crouching beside the woman.

“N-No,” the man stammered. “She didn’t know-this hasn’t happened before-”

“Call an ambulance,” you told him. “Now.” Her breathing was wheezing now, hands clawing at her throat. You gently eased her back against the booth seat while Jungwon checked her pulse, his voice calm. “We need antihistamines,” he muttered. “Fast. See if the staff has a first-aid kit.”

You ran to the counter, flashed your ID, and barked quick instructions. By the time you returned with the kit and a rushed dose of diphenhydramine, Jungwon had her stabilized as best he could, loosening her collar, elevating her legs slightly, keeping her from collapsing into unconsciousness.

You administered the antihistamine carefully. She was still gasping, but the panic in her eyes had softened. The ambulance sirens wailed in the distance. Jungwon kept speaking softly to her, assuring her she would be okay. And when the EMTs finally arrived and loaded her into the stretcher, the husband turned to both of you, breathless and shaking. “Thank you. Oh god, thank you so much.”

You nodded, brushing your hair back, heart still pounding from the adrenaline. When the commotion cleared, Jungwon looked over at you. “You were quick,” he said.

You exhaled. “You were calmer than I thought you’d be outside the OR.”

He smiled faintly. “We’re not just good in scrubs, apparently.”

The restaurant had returned to calm after the chaos. You sat back down at the table across from Jungwon, now half-empty, the plates barely touched. He was quiet, and so were you. “Are you alright?” he asked, pulling you back from your thoughts.

You nodded. “Yeah…a little surreal.”

“That’s the thing about emergencies,” he murmured, looking out toward the restaurant doors where the paramedics had wheeled the woman out. “They don’t care if you’re on a day off.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Guess we never really clock out.”

He folded his arms. “Seems like fate has a cruel sense of humor. Just when I thought I might get through dinner without someone collapsing.”

“Dinner,” you repeated. The dessert was melting into the plate now. “Right. This was supposed to be… normal.” Before he could reply, a paramedic re-entered the restaurant, scanning the tables until their eyes landed on him. “Dr. Yang?” they said, half-breathless.

Jungwon stood. “Is she stable?”

“She’s responding to treatment now. We’re monitoring her vitals en route. Allergic to shellfish. First time reaction. You saved her life, sir.”

“And the nurse,” Jungwon added, glancing at you. “She helped just as much.”

You nodded politely, still seated, feeling your ears grow warm under their praise. The paramedic smiled. “I didn’t expect to see you outside the hospital. I’ll, uh… let admin know you intervened. They’ll probably want to document it.”

“Of course,” Jungwon said with a light sigh. “No such thing as off-duty, I guess.”

With one last salute of gratitude, they left. Then it was just the two of you again, in the now strangely quiet restaurant corner. You broke it. “Sorry,” you said, half-laughing. “I think I cursed this night.”

“Don’t apologize,” he replied smoothly. “You handled that better than most would. You didn’t hesitate.”

You shrugged. “It just kicked in. Probably out of habit.”

He tilted his head. “Instinct. That’s not something you teach. That’s something you are.” He added. “And for the record… it was still a nice dinner.”

You glanced at him. “Even if it ended with chaos?”

He smirked faintly. “Of course. It proves I picked the right person to spend it with.”

“You didn’t pick,” you teased a little. “You cornered me in the hallway and guilted me into eating on our day off.”

“And yet,” he countered, “you didn’t say no.”

You gave him a look. “That’s not fair.”

He smiled at you. “It’s not untrue, either.” You glanced around the restaurant again. Everything had settled into normal again, but your heart hadn’t. You looked back at Jungwon, sitting across from you, his usual professionalism softened enough that it unsettled you in the best way. He didn’t look away. “You know, you’re too pretty for your own good.”

That shut you up.

You stared at him.

He was already smiling, already reaching for the check. “You still want coffee?” he asked. “Or should we call it a night and let the world surprise us again tomorrow?”

You said, “Let’s see if the next emergency lets us finish a cup first.” And with that, the two of you stood and left.

🚑

The rain hadn’t let up all morning; strangely, neither had your luck. It was supposed to be a quick errand. A quick stop, and then home, but fate never warned you before it turned cruel. The screech of tires. And then-

Nothing.

A blur of sirens and panic. Then suddenly, darkness.

…

Back at the hospital, the very one you called your second home, the emergency doors slammed open. “She’s one of ours!” a nurse cried, rushing alongside the gurney. “It’s her- it’s (Name)!” Chaos was everywhere in the ER. A resident dropped her clipboard. A tech gasped. The head nurse’s hands flew to her mouth.

“She was hit near the corner by the pharmacy. Driver ran a red light,” the paramedic reported quickly as they wheeled you in, blood already staining the sheet beneath you. Then someone whispered, “Has Dr. Yang been told?” They didn’t have to wait long.

Because Jungwon came running.

His coat wasn’t even fully on. His tie was loose, his ID still dangling from his collar. The moment he saw your face. Bruised, unconscious, and barely breathing, his expression collapsed. “No- what happened?!” he demanded, eyes scanning every inch of you.

“Dr. Yang, you need to stand back,” one of the surgeons said, placing a hand on his chest.

“She’s going into surgery,” another voice called. “Internal bleeding. We need the OR now.”

“I’ll go in,” Jungwon said instinctively, reaching for gloves, but a hand gripped his arm. “You can’t,” said Dr. Nam, one of the senior staff.

“What?” Jungwon snapped, not even trying to hide the shake in his voice.

“You’re too involved.”

“She’s a nurse!” he shot back. “She’s my nurse-”

“Exactly,” Nam said quietly. “You care too much. You know the protocol. You know what it risks- your judgment, her outcome.” Jungwon’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving you as your unconscious body was wheeled toward the OR. “She needs me.”

“She needs a surgeon with a clear head,” Nam said gently but firmly, and it broke him. He didn’t argue again. He was rooted in place, his hands curled into fists, watching the doors close. All he could do was watch.

🚑

In the hallway, time didn’t pass. Jungwon sat slumped against the wall. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Every time someone walked by, he looked up, hoping. And all he could hear was the last thing you’d said to him, two days ago over dinner:

“Let’s see if the next emergency lets us finish a cup first.”

Now here you were unconscious. On the other side, he couldn’t cross, and for the first time in his life, Jungwon felt utterly powerless. And completely terrified of losing you.

The clock ticked. Hours bled into each other. Jungwon sat just outside the operating wing. His elbows were resting on his knees, fingers tangled in his hair. His white coat was discarded somewhere, forgotten. He wasn’t wearing his pager. He wasn’t in rounds. He wasn’t answering calls. The nurses knew better than to ask.

Dr. Yang, poised and always on time, was now the man who hadn’t moved in three hours. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t spoken. He hadn’t blinked when your bloodied ID badge slipped from a nurse’s tray and landed near his feet.

He picked it up, his fingers closing around it as if it were made of glass. Your picture was still perfect. “You should rest, Dr. Yang,” someone whispered. He didn’t look up. “Do you want something warm? You haven’t moved-”

“I’m fine.”

He wasn’t.

A clipboard fell behind the station; he flinched. One of the interns passed by and muttered, “Isn’t that Dr. Yang? Why’s he just-”

“Shut up,” A nurse hissed. “That’s her. The nurse he-”

Everyone knew. Jungwon stared ahead, eyes bloodshot, skin pale from stress and cold. The man who held steady during surgeries and cardiac arrests was now coming apart at the seams, silently. Every second he waited, he replayed everything. The way your smile looked over coffee. Your voice teasing him. And now… Now you were behind a door he couldn’t open.

Please wake up.

Please stay with me.

Please don’t let this be the end before we even began.

🚑

“Dr. Yang,” came the voice he barely registered. Jungwon didn’t look up at first. He was still sitting in the same spot. His leg had bounced unconsciously for the last half hour. “Jungwon.”

He finally glanced up. It was Dr. Nam, his colleague, and more importantly, someone who knew him well enough to speak past the professional wall he always wore. Nam’s face softened when he saw the state Jungwon was in. “They stabilized her. Surgery was a success.”

“She’s okay?”

“She’s not awake yet. But she made it,” Nam said. “She’s in recovery. I thought you’d want to-” Jungwon stood up so fast before he could even finish. His hand trembled slightly as he pushed the hair out of his eyes. The color returned to his face in waves. “You can go in,” Nam said gently. “Only one visitor. The nurses know.”

He didn’t say thank you. He couldn’t.

Jungwon was already walking.

The heart monitor beeped steadily. You were there, pale against the hospital sheets, an IV in your arm, your breathing soft and even. The oxygen mask fogged slightly with each exhale. Jungwon stopped at the door. He wasn’t prepared. He swallowed hard and stepped inside. Then, his knees gave in. He bent beside your bed, one hand grabbing the rail for support, the other reaching finally to hold yours. His forehead dropped to your hand, his shoulders shaking as the tears came. “You scared me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You stupid, reckless…-you.” He pressed his lips to the back of your hand and held it there. “Don’t do that again. Don’t ever make me feel like that again.”

He laughed bitterly, brushing away a tear with the heel of his palm. “You haven’t even woken up, and I’m already lecturing you.” He stayed there, crouched beside you, refusing to let go. The strong, untouchable Dr. Yang is now just a man breaking beside the person he was so close to losing.

🚑

You woke up slowly, blinking against the lights. The scent of antiseptic and the distant sound of chatter told you exactly where you were, but you didn’t remember how you got here. Then you turned your head. Jungwon was there.

Slumped in the hospital chair. His hair was pushed back messily, seemingly where he’d run his hands through it too many times. His coat was folded over the armrest, and an untouched paper cup of coffee was sitting on the small table near him. He hadn’t noticed you were awake yet. He looked… tired. No, worn out. So you spoke first, voice scratchy.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

His head shot up immediately. His eyes met yours and just for a moment, they widened. Then came a breath of relief. An almost whispered-

“You’re awake.”

He stood.

“…you’re truly awake.”

You tried to smile, though your face barely moved. “I was out that long?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just sat beside you and shook his head slowly. “You scared the hell out of me.” You glanced at him, his dark circles, the crease between his brows, the exhausted worry in his eyes, and mustered a dry joke. “You look terrible.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Everyone’s said that.” Then he leaned forward. “But I’m not the one who almost…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

You swallowed softly. You could see it now, all the weight he’d been carrying while you were unconscious. “I thought you’d be the type to keep calm under pressure,” you teased.

He smiled faintly. “I am unless it’s you.” Your breath caught, but he carefully reached out and took your hand before you could say anything. His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Don’t do that again,” he whispered. “Don’t make me wait like that again.”

🚑

You’d been back to your shifts, back to the same elevator dings. People still gave you longer glances than usual. It’s not every day a nurse almost dies in the middle of her day off and ends up back in her hospital bed. But things were starting to feel normal again or something like it. It was late. Most of the lights on the floor had dimmed, save for the nurse’s station and the glow from a few patient monitors. Finally, you were done with your rounds and just about to log out when Jungwon showed up by the lockers. It looks like he’d been waiting. “Shift ended?” he asked.

“Ten minutes ago,” you replied, tugging your ID off. “You?”

He nodded. “Technically, but I stayed.”

You gave him a look. “Why?”

He hesitated, then said, “Thought I’d walk you out.”

“Seriously?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” He shrugged a little. “Hospitals look different at night.” So you walked past the pharmacy, through the hallway with the vending machines, and then out the staff exit where the breeze was gentle and the parking lot half-empty. “Are you alright?” he asked as the two of you stood by the bike rack, neither in a rush to leave.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I’m back.”

He looked over at you. “Back, but you’ve been different.”

You raised a brow. “How?”

Jungwon hesitated. “You’re more careful with your words.”

You looked away. Maybe you were.

“You, too,” you said.

He smiled. “I have something I’ve been holding back. Protocol says I probably shouldn’t say it,” he added. “But I’ve been thinking about you before the accident and after.” You turned to him slowly. “I don’t want to make things weird,” he continued. “And I know we’re not supposed to… cross lines, but whatever happened that day, when I thought I might lose you, it made it pretty clear I’d regret not saying anything.”

“…You’re not making things weird,” you said.

He looked up at you. “No?”

You shook your head. “Scary.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Terrifying.” Then he spoke again. “You know, Nam’s been asking if we’re seeing each other.”

You raised a brow. “And what did you say?”

“That if we are, we’re both incredibly good at pretending we’re not, and if we’re not, maybe we should stop pretending we don’t want to.”

You sighed. “This place has a lot of rules.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m not asking for anything messy. Only clarity.”

“You’re doing this here?” you said while looking around.

He shrugged. “Would’ve done it over dinner, but someone already agreed to that and didn’t seem to regret it.”

🚑

It didn’t happen in a moment with fireworks, or a sudden realization under a rainy sky. No. It happened calmly and quietly, like most things between you and Jungwon did. You were both sitting in the lounge during a lull, not technically on break, but not in a rush to move. Your legs were folded on the couch, a tablet in your lap. Jungwon sat across from you, reviewing a report, hair slightly messy from hours in the OR. You glanced at him. “You know you could sit here, right?”

He looked up. “You mean next to you?”

“Unless you’re afraid of proximity.”

He chuckled, stood, and made his way over. “Is this one of those times,” he murmured, “where we pretend we’re not already something?”

You tilted your head toward him. “Depends. What are we?”

He glanced at you with a slight smile on his lips. “I think I’d like to stop pretending we’re not together.”

You look at him a little surprised. “That simple?” you asked.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he replied. “Unless you want it to be.”

You looked down at your hands for a second. “You’re not worried? About the hospital. About how it’ll look?”

“I’ve thought about all of that,” he said. And I still want you.” It’s been years of tension, glances, late-night shifts, near misses, and unspoken feelings. So you nodded, which made him smile. Jungwon put his hand on top of yours. “So, you’re my girlfriend now, right?” he said.

You scoffed, but your smile betrayed you. “If you’re going to act like that, I might change my mind.”

He leaned back on the couch with one arm lazily draped behind you. “It’s too late. I already mentally updated your name in my phone.” You nudged him gently with your shoulder. You were his and he was yours. Simple as that. Even in a hospital full of rules, something between you had finally gotten its own space.

🚑

You were both jotting notes outside patient rooms. The hall was full of chatter, but it was clear that no one interrupted when it was you and Dr. Yang. He glanced sideways at you, but you caught it. You always did. “You missed lunch,” he said while his eyes never left the file in his hand.

“So did you,” you muttered back.

“I’ll ask the cafeteria to send something up,” he replied as if he hadn’t done it for you three days in a row.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask.”

You allowed yourself the faintest smile. Behind you, two new residents whispered in awe.

“They’re so-like-is that even allowed?”

“They don’t even act like a couple, but also? You feel it.” Someone else chimed in, “That’s the Dr. Yang. You think anyone’s gonna tell him who he can or can’t date?”

And no, no one ever did. You stood beside him in the conference room later that day as he presented a case to the department heads. His voice didn’t change when he quoted your observation. There was no favoritism and no tells, but when the meeting ended, as everyone went out, Jungwon stayed. “You handled that case well,” he said softly, packing his laptop.

You raised a brow. “Professional compliment?”

He glanced up. “Strictly professional.”

Then, he added: “Come over later.”

“To your place?” you asked.

“Where else would my pretty girlfriend go?”

You whispered, “We have early rounds tomorrow.”

“Then come early.”

After that, he walked off.

Why does he always get to walk off after ending a conversation with smooth lines?

🚑

Later that evening, you stood in his apartment. He walked over and set a glass of water beside you, then stood before you, hands bracing the counter on either side of your hips. “You look tired,” he murmured.

“I am.”

“You should lie down.”

You looked up at him. “So should you.”

Jungwon gave a dry laugh. “Are you suggesting we both rest?” In which you leaned forward, and he met you halfway. His lips pressed to yours. A few slow kisses here and there. He pulled back, “I missed this,” he said quietly. “Even when you’re right next to me at work… It’s not the same.”

Your voice was soft. “I know, but we can’t afford to slip. Not there.”

“No,” he agreed, “but here? I can love you as much as I want.” You closed your eyes and kissed again, deeper this time. The closeness contrasts with how far you kept apart during the day. No one else got this version of him, and you had it.

🚑

You were the only one left at the nurses’ station. Your fingers moved slower with every letter you typed into the patient charting system. Most of the night shift hadn’t made it in and was short-staffed again. You didn’t even bother complaining. What was the point?

You tried to focus, but your eyelids felt like sandbags. “Why are you still here?” a familiar voice asked gently behind you. You didn’t even turn; you knew it was him. You shook your head. “Don’t start. We’re two nurses down. I couldn’t just walk out.” You felt him step closer, then saw a hand reach around you to press the ‘Save’ button on your screen. The screen dimmed.

“Charting can wait.”

You finally looked up. Jungwon was there with his clean coat. He looked at you like you were the only thing in this building that mattered. “I don’t want you pushing yourself to burnout.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Touché,” he said with a smirk.

You let your head fall against his body as he moved behind your chair, gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You exhaled, closing your eyes for just a second. “I didn’t even realize I was this tired,” you whispered.

“I did.” He kissed the top of your head.

You smiled weakly. “This is inappropriate.”

“Then fire me.”

You let out a tired breath. “You’re lucky I’m in love with you.”

He squeezed your shoulders gently. “That makes two of us.”

🚑

You and Jungwon walked side by side, hands intertwined, his thumb caressing over your knuckles occasionally. It was one of the rare nights you both got off early, and you made a promise not to talk about the hospital. For tonight, you were just two people in love. “I still can’t believe we’ve made it this far without anyone forcing us to do another 48-hour shift,” you joked softly.

Jungwon chuckled. “Don’t jinx it. Someone from scheduling might be hiding behind that hotdog cart.” You laughed. Then-

“Help! Please! Someone help!”

Your head turned at the same time. A small crowd had started to form near a bench just across the street. A woman was kneeling beside someone collapsed on the ground, panic rising in her voice.

You looked at Jungwon. He was already looking at you. There was no hesitation and no words. The two of you took off in sync, cutting through the street. Your heels hit pavement hard, your heart already in nurse mode. Someone stepped back to give space as you and Jungwon moved in. You slid down to your knees beside him, checking for vitals while Jungwon crouched opposite you. “Mid-50s,” he murmured quickly. “Breathing?”

“Yeah. Weak pulse. His skin’s clammy, might’ve triggered a vasovagal response,” you said, lifting his legs to restore blood flow. “Could’ve been pain or standing too long.”

“He’s coming to,” Jungwon said after a few moments. “Eyes fluttering.” The man stirred, groaning lowly. You leaned in. “You fainted, sir. Don’t sit up yet.”

When it was clear the man was stable and help was on the way, you and Jungwon stood. He looked at you, chest rising and falling. His hand reached instinctively for yours again. You took it. “Didn’t we say no work talk tonight?” you said with a tired smile.

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied. “You’re the one who ran first.” You rolled your eyes, your fingers tightened around his. Then, he looked at you as he always did.

You were the one thing in this world he never wanted to lose.

[lveegsoi]

Girl the sub soobin fic 🧎‍♀️ you're now my new favorite writer fr. Could you please write something about making out with bf!jay on his lap and eating you out after you were trying to show him the skimpy dresses you bought

Aaaah thank you so much <3 I’ll try to write it as soon as possible. I’m a little bit busy with exams this week but i’ll try to write it asap 🩷🫶

[lveegsoi]

˗ˏˋNERDY최수빈 ´ˎ ˗

pairing.. nerd!bf!soobin x f!reader

synopsis.. the different positions and places where you and your nerdy boyfriend have sex.

tags/warnings.. smut, MDNI, pwp, piv, unprotected sex, sub!soobin, dom!reader, semi-public sex, riding, oral(f!recieving), pussydrunk!soobin, handjob, fingering, cockwarming, pussyjob, squirting

a/n… thanks for the 200 followers 🫶 also thanks for the 1k (and almost 1k) notes on the dirty!jake and vampire!niki fics i wrote that in 2am so there may be some spelling and grammar mistakes lmk so i can fix them

masterlist

eating out + sofa

nerd!soobin who likes to be between your legs whenever he gets the chance to. You’d be minding your own business, laying on your couch, your upper body- leaning against the armrest and your legs- lazily spread on the sofa, when Soobin’d enter the living room. The moment his eyes land on your figure he’d be instantly hard. How couldn’t he? His super hot girlfriend is looking effortlessly hot in just his oversized t-shirt and pink lace panties peeking under it.

nerd!soobin who had one thing on his mind- your pussy. Making his way towards you he’d kneel between your legs and without saying anything he’d begin to slowly trace the outline of your pussy through your panties.

The moment you feel your boyfriend place a quick kiss on your clit you’d look up from your phone.

“Soobin, what are you doing?” You’d ask as you watch him place more kisses on your inner thighs and between your legs.

“Don’t mind me”

nerd!soobin who would eat you out through your panties until you make them wet enough for his liking. He would start slowly teasing you with kitten kisses and short licks on your clit. Between every kiss, he’d murmur soft praises not to you but to himself. “You’re doing great” “ She likes it just like that.” “She’s close keep going” It was so pathetic, but fuck didn’t it turn you on.

nerd!soobin who would make you squirt so much that your panties would turn see-through, outline the shape of your puffy lips.

nerd!soobin who would cum untouched in his pants just by seeing you coming under him.

handjob + fingering + library

nerd!soobin who likes to drag you with him to the library when he has to do research for his essay. And how can you say no to your boyfriend when he hits you with the most adorable puppy eyes when asking?

nerd!soobin who would be so into his book he wouldn’t register the sound of your chair scratching the floor as you switch to sit beside him.

nerd!soobin who would freeze the moment your hand makes its way between his legs. At first be’d be shocked, I mean he knew you were a bit into the more risky stuff , but trying to jerk him off in the library was a new one. He was scared- what if someone saw them or worse record them. But damn if he wasn’t as hard as a rock. Sure there was practically no one else besides them and the front desk librarian, who was trying so hard not to fall asleep, but the thrill of being caught still made his heart beat faster.

nerd!soobin who would try his best to be as quiet as possible but the way your hand is inside his pants, squeezing the base of his dick, was making it harder and harder. It wouldn’t take long for him to feel his release coming, but rather than cumming a quite beg would make you stop.

“Stop, please. Let’s do it together, let me finger you as you jerk me off. Please, baby, I’m begging you I want to make you feel good so bad”

nerd!soobin who would waste no time bringing his hand up your skirt, pushing your panties to the side, exposing your wet cunt. Soobin could swore he twitched the moment his fingertips touched your swollen clit.

nerd!soobin who would pump his fingers inside of your pussy, trying to match the up and down movements of your hand on his dick. It wouldn’t take long for the two of you to cum. His long and big fingers, reaching places inside of you, you thought were impossible to reach, would make you feel so full and warm.

nerd!soobin who would be so embarrassed after, that he wouldn’t go to the library for two weeks in fear the librarian recognizing him, even though he hadn’t heard or seen anything from that night.

riding + cockwarming + floor

nerd!soobin who would get too occupied with his homework to even pay proper attention to you. He’d be sitting crossed-legged on the floor, a pile of paper in front of him as he reads through thick textbooks. You hate it. Why was he always paying more attention to his studies than to you? You are his girlfriend, right? And because you’re a good one you like to give him motivation to study quicker.

nerd!soobin, who whimpered the moment you sit in his lap, pussy already taking whatever it can of his big dick (no matter how many times you see his dick, you’re always surprised by his size, I mean who would thought the biggest nerd on campus has such a big dick?)

“Love, what- what are you doing? You’re not helping me study.” Soobin slightly stuttered when you moved back and forth, trying to find a comfortable position on his lap.

“But, baby, I am. You need motivation to study fast and hard, right? When you finish reading your textbook I’ll ride you as a reward for being such a good student. How does that sound? But until then I’ll keep your dick hard and wet, yeah?

nerd!soobin who has never read a 30 pages chapter faster in his life. If you wanted Soobin to do anything for you just say you’ll ride him as a payment. Nothing drove him more insane than the feeling of your tight pussy, clenching his dick, as you rode him ‘till he saw stars.

nerd!soobin who, after was done with his reading, would push everything aside and he’d lay on the soft rug beside your bed.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t take it anymore, please, please ride me. Fuck. I can’t.”

nerd!soobin who would cum after no more than 10 seconds after you began bouncing up and down his dick. He may be top of his class, but god he doesn’t yet know how to last long. But don’t worry a few more rounds of you teaching him how not to cum the moment he put his dick inside your pussy were guaranteed to help him last longer.

missionary + pussy job + bedroom

nerd!soobin who likes to use you as his personal fleshlight before fucking you in missionary, the rare times you allow him to have control in the bedroom.

nerd!soobin who would firstly put you on top of him, your back to his chest, as he positions himself between the plush of your pussy lips.

nerd!soobin who would slowly grinds his dick between your folds, smearing it with your wetness, as soft whimpers leave his mouth. Soobin would try to bring your pussy as close as possible to his dick without pushing it inside of you.

nerd!soobin who would place his big hands on the front of your cunt just to push it down toward him, trying to get it as close as possible. And after bringing himself near the edge of cumming he’d carefully place you on your back under him, waiting a minute for you to catch your breath (that’s what he says, but we all know that one minute is for him) before pushing his red, swollen tip inside of you.

nerd!soobin who despite being under your control most of the time, would be such a soft and tender dom the times you allow him to be. He’d make sure you orgasm at least two times, even if that means he has to overstimulate himself.

divider by enchanthings-a

[lveegsoi]

.ೃ࿐RESTRICTED 심재윤

a/n.. click the link for a surprise ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

masterlist

Jake knew he had made a good decision when he bought the chain wrist cuffs from the sex shop down the street on his way to your shared apartment. He had you on your stomach, knees bent and ass slightly up in the air, the second he came through the front door.

You had no time to process what was happening. One moment you were in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea and the next you were on your shared bed, leather collar and wrist cuffs on your neck and wrists, only wearing your panties. A long metal chain that began from the back of your collar ran down through your spine and connected the wrist cuff that held your hands behind your back.

Before fucking you like there was no tomorrow, Jake liked to take his time making you as wet as possible. A small whimper left your mouth as you felt the cold chain through your panties. Jake continued to drag the chain between your puffy folds as more soft moans left your mouth.

“ That’s it, baby. You’re doing great.” He praised you as he let go of the chain to slap your soaked pussy a few times, dragging another whimper out of you.

“Jake, please fuck just fuck me already” You whined, no longer able to endure your boyfriend’s teasing.

And how couldn’t Jake listen to his pretty girl? Pulling your drenched panties down, he positioned himself right behind you. Jake had no problem sliding his dick inside your pussy due to how wet you already were. Both of you moaned the moment his dick went inside of you.

“Baby, look how well she’s sucking me in, yeah?”

His hand gripped a handful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress, as he began to thrust his hips, making you scream into the bed. You could confidently say that being fucked from behind is the fastest way to make you cum. You can feel him deeper and with every thrust he hits spots that make your legs shake uncontrollably.

For Jake watching you coming undone under him is the best way to relax after a stressful day at work.

divider by cursed-carmine

[lveegsoi]

The Diner, The Cat and The Girl That Played Mahjong

aka, the mahjong agenda

Pairing: [Diner owners!Sunghoon and Jake x mahjong player!student!fem!reader]!Hong Kong

TW/N | 26k- love triangle, strangers to lovers, age gap, forbidden love, found family, very wholesome | I loved writing this fic but it’s also that I had no clue how to write the fic. I’ve never done love triangles before and the choices I made in the relationships here kinda made it harder I think. I hope you enjoy reading it, even if the dots don’t seem to connect or the lines don’t seem to tie. It’s just very wholesome | nainai means grandma in Cantonese | inspired by many things- Wong kar wai, Murakami, Student of the year (movie), Challengers (movie) and a lot more but I can’t seem to remember. Enjoy!

Summary: Sunghoon and Jake found each other when they needed support the most. And they made a great pair, though the logistics didn’t make sense to most people. They opened a diner together, they lived together, did everything together. Nothing could tear them apart. Until Y/N came in with her shy smiles, impressive mahjong skills and a mundane presence that seemed to settle into the diner and both of their lives.

or, who gets the girl?

i. the diner

The first time Sunghoon and Jake met, they were both working in the same building- different jobs, though. It was a rooftop job site in Mong Kok, one of the densest, loudest neighborhoods in Hong Kong. 

Sunghoon had picked up short-term kitchen work at a failing fusion joint that fancied itself avant-garde. It was the kind of place that plated rice like art but paid in delays and insults. The head chef yelled in English, called coriander “cilantro,” and acted like he’d invented fire. The sous-chef spent more time arranging microgreens with tweezers than actually cooking anything.

Sunghoon kept his head down, worked the grill, and bit his tongue when the manager called him “too local.”

He wondered, more often than he cared to admit, if this was the cost he paid for not going to college. For choosing wok burns and minimum wage over lecture halls and hollow degrees. For giving up his shot in education so his younger sister could have one.

That decision- noble, maybe, but tiring- haunted him most on nights like these, when his body ached but nothing he made had any soul in it. He was good at what he did. He knew he was good. His hands were precise, his instincts sharp. He could tell when oil was hot enough just by the sound of the sizzle.

But here? His cooking was being used for waste. For showy dishes with smoked foam and edible flowers. For tourists who’d never eaten from a street cart and called every bite authentic. For critics who photographed his food but never looked at him.

Sometimes, during a slow shift, he'd catch a glimpse of himself in the steel counter- face greasy, eyes dull, hands shaking from caffeine and repetition. He’d wonder if he’d traded away joy for survival. If all his skill was being drained, dish by dish, into a sink that led nowhere.

Jake was working construction, helping renovate the building- he needed cash after dropping out, and no one cared about degrees when you could lift drywall.

He hadn’t planned for any of this. Two years ago, he was studying mechanical engineering with decent grades and big-city dreams, the kind of kid who loved fixing things just to see how they worked. He thought he’d end up designing bridges or subway systems, maybe send money back home to help his parents retire early.

But all that cracked the day his father made a single bad business move- trusting an old friend with their family’s savings. One betrayal later, their small chain of hardware stores went under. Debts piled up like receipts from a fire sale, bank accounts froze; overnight, everything changed.

His parents went back to Korea, swallowed in legal paperwork and shame, fighting to keep even one apartment. Jake stayed in Hong Kong, partly because the university wouldn’t refund his tuition, but mostly because someone had to make money. Someone had to survive.

So he started doing construction jobs. 

It consisted of waking up at five, nails chipped, palms blistered, sweat soaking through borrowed uniforms. He learned quickly that no one asked where you came from when you could haul tiles and shut up. There was no space for dreams on scaffolding- just weight, gravity, and the sound of men yelling over jackhammers.

One afternoon, the kitchen’s exhaust system broke down again. Jake was half inside the duct, arms covered in grease, shirtless from the heat and frustration. The fan blade inside rattled like it was dying, and he’d already cut his knuckles trying to fix it.

That’s when Sunghoon stormed out the back door, apron stained, hair sticking to his forehead, and murder in his eyes. He looked like he’d just gone twelve rounds with a broken hand mixer.

He lit a cigarette with shaking hands and muttered, “If one more so-called chef tells me foam is food, I’m throwing myself into the wok.”

Jake didn’t even look up. He passed him a warm can of lemon tea and said casually, “You know, you could just cook noodles. No one judges noodles.”

They sat on overturned milk crates in the alley behind the kitchen, the kind that left marks on your thighs. The air was thick with fryer grease and summer heat. A couple of stray cats wandered nearby, and someone upstairs was blasting old Cantopop through a broken speaker.

They sat in silence for a while, too tired to pretend they weren’t burnt out. Eventually, they talked- not about the jobs they hated or the people who’d looked down on them, but about how expensive it was to have dreams. And how eggs and rice were cheaper- that maybe cooking didn’t need to impress anyone to matter.

By the end of the week, they’d both quit.

Jake texted his foreman that he wasn’t coming back. Sunghoon left a sticky note on the fridge at his job that just said, “I’m done. Good luck.”

They spent the next few days wandering through Sham Shui Po, poking their heads into run-down shopfronts and empty spaces no one wanted. It was the kind of place where the paint peeled, the tiles cracked, and the rent was low for a reason.

Jake found the place first- a dusty corner unit between a pawn shop and a gaming café. The windows were covered in grime, the sign was unreadable, and a rusty ceiling fan hung like a death trap.

Sunghoon stood in the doorway, took one long look around, and said, “I’ll cook. You fix things. If it fails, we blame capitalism.”

And that’s how the diner started. 

They named it Tin Cup Diner because it was the first thing they could think of and the only thing that looked good as a neon green sign Jake found secondhand for forty bucks. The sign flickered slightly at the “n” in “Tin” and buzzed audibly at night, but they decided it gave the place character.

They argued over the menu like it was life or death.

Jake wanted to add pineapple buns and French toast stuffed with peanut butter. Sunghoon refused to deep-fry anything “that sweet and disrespectful.” Sunghoon pushed for simple rice plates, noodle soups, and stir-fried greens. Jake said no one would come unless they threw in some eggs and a novelty sandwich.

They settled on a chaotic fusion- stuff your grandma might make if she owned a TV and once had brunch in London. You could get congee with spam fries. Or pork chop rice with a side of coleslaw. Every now and then, someone ordered the tuna melt out of curiosity and ended up coming back.

The furniture came from junk shops, roadside pickups, and the occasional mercy donation. Nothing matched. One table leg was shorter than the others so they folded an old receipt booklet under it. Most of the chairs wobbled. The counter was built from salvaged wood Jake found during a renovation gig- he sanded it down at 2am while Sunghoon painted a crooked chalkboard menu on the wall behind him.

It took about a month.

A month of greasy hands, cheap instant coffee, half-finished conversations, small cuts, bigger dreams. Of cursing at leaky pipes, peeling faded posters off the walls, and scraping chewing gum from under old booths. Of Sunghoon burning three rice pots trying to calibrate the kitchen stove, and Jake accidentally electrocuting himself when rewiring the lights.

But eventually, it looked… kind of presentable. The kind of place you walked into and thought, “yeah, I could eat here if I’m broke or heartbroken.”

And on opening day, they only had six customers- three were their neighbors, two were lost, and one just wanted to use the bathroom. But one of the grandmas from across the street left them with a generous tip. “Tastes just like the old days,” she said. And that was enough.

Overtime, their customer pool expanded. First, the owner of the pawnshop beside them started coming over for lunch more often. “It’s good food,” he’d told them while drinking their chicken congee, “and it’s cheap.” And Sunghoon and Jake remember beaming at each other with pride, one holding a twisted washcloth and the other slapping a notepad onto his palm. 

The next group of regular customers were the teenagers that often stopped by after blowing their money on the gaming café. They were always loud groups of high schoolers in their inappropriate clothing and unfortunate friendship dynamics. There were many accounts of Jake finding himself chasing away some kids who had pulled out alcohol or cigarettes or started making out right there in the centre of the diner, disrupting the carefully curated ambiance of the place. It was a scene to rubber neck on, truly- Jake with a broomstick, apron around his waist, napkin tied to his head, yelling profanities at a ragtag group of teenagers. 

He absolutely loathed teenagers after enough instances. Sunghoon liked to make fun of him for it, making sure it was always him serving the teenagers instead of Sunghoon going in himself.

Then, there was the group of construction workers that always seated themselves late into the night. Eventually, Jake and Sunghoon started working late shifts just to cater to these groups of men that were in desperate need of nourishment and a roof to be under. They always brought a cloud of cigarette smoke and cement dust whenever they came, exhaustion weighing down their posture, arms and eyes heavy. 

They once stopped Jake to ask what he was before the diner- like they could sense he was once a fellow construction worker; like there was some sort of unrecognisable brotherhood Jake held in him. That night, while sharing stories of how they each got into construction work- something none of them wanted to do but were pushed into through the unfair course of life- Sunghoon offered them free food at the sight of Jake's welled eyes as he narrated his past.

Out of all the customers, though, Sunghoon’s favourite were the group of grandmas that came from time to time. He thought they were mellow, the perfect kind of customers that brought the laughter and peace that he chased when opening the diner. They spoke in deep accents that made it hard for Sunghoon and Jake to understand their Cantonese and they usually always ordered the same thing- spam and egg sandwiches, macaroni in broth with ham and milk tea that came in the fancy “Black & White” mugs- the kind with the cow printed on one side with a red border as the base. 

Life, owning and running a diner, was good.

There were no spreadsheets, no performance reviews, no hollowed-out fine dining talk about “notes” or “palates” or “culinary storytelling.” There was just food- food that people actually enjoyed.

Jake liked that he didn’t have to explain himself anymore. He fixed what was broken, took orders, made dumb jokes, and whacked teenagers with a broom if he had to. His apron was always stained, and his hands always smelled faintly like soy sauce, but he hadn’t felt this steady in years.

Sunghoon liked that he could hear laughter through the kitchen walls. The clang of ceramic, the low radio hum, the grandma chatter about gold rates and old TVB actors. No backstabbing sous-chefs, no white tablecloth pressure, no lectures about plating. It was always just warmth, a stability in life he hadn’t experienced in a while.

Slowly, they had become an integral part of the neighborhood.

They were essential like the ten-year-old stationery shop tucked under a crumbling awning that schoolkids depended on for last-minute notebooks and cheap pens. Like the fruit stall with sun-faded umbrellas and a weathered old man who always had a loyal flock of aunties by 7am, arguing over lychees and paying in loose change.

Tin Cup Diner became that kind of place. The kind that didn’t need a signboard update because everyone already knew where it was.

Their stretch of Sham Shui Po was a road of second chances and low expectations. Laundry dripped from windows overhead, buses screeched past puddles, and neon signs buzzed in the fog like city fireflies. The air smelled of five different kinds of street food depending on where you stood- fresh waffles, frying oil, cheap skewers, and once in a while, the sweet, almost floral scent of steamed buns from the lady two shops down.

People knew them there.

Jake and Sunghoon- the inseparable duo, the walking contradiction. The sunshine-and-stone pairing that somehow worked.

Jake, ever the extrovert, called out greetings to everyone who walked past. His voice cut through the street noise, full of boyish charm. He carried bags for grandmas, flirted harmlessly with girls who giggled at his apron, and once even got roped into babysitting when a customer had an emergency.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, preferred silence. He nodded at familiar faces, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes down but ears alert. He was awkward in a way that people forgave- because his food was good, and his heart showed in the small things. A discount here, an extra egg there.

He also had a soft spot for things that didn’t ask much of him. Like the ginger cat he found one night nestled between the tires of two bicycles, its fur patchy and its body trembling from the cold.

He crouched down, cautious and quiet, and placed a piece of leftover tuna on the sidewalk. He didn’t touch it, didn’t coax it- just left the food and walked away.

The cat showed up the next day.

And the day after.

Soon, she became a fixture outside the diner- curled up near the back door, blinking slowly at the kitchen heat. Sunghoon never named her, never talked to her, but he always set out milk in a mismatched saucer and small scraps of fish or ham. Jake teased him for being a cat dad. Sunghoon just rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on his apron.

Sometimes, if you passed Tin Cup at closing time, you’d see the two of them- Jake wiping tables while talking too much, and Sunghoon crouched near the alley, one hand resting beside a tiny orange cat, the city humming quietly around them.

Days bled into weeks, and weeks folded into months, until routine settled around them like steam off a rice bowl. They liked living this way- cramping themselves into the small kitchen of the diner, speaking to their customers like family, feeling like they were needed and important. And everynight, after locking up, they liked walking the street that led back to their apartment. It was a familiar drill- Sunghoon would feed the cat, Jake would play a game of hopscotch with the group of children near an old playground, they would both stare at the moon and trees and wonder what luck brought them the mundane life they’d both wished for. 

Their apartment was located above an old man’s cobbler shop. It was just far enough from the main road that the city noise turned into a dull, sleepy hum by midnight. The place was barely 400 square feet, and it looked like it hadn’t been touched since the early 90s. The wallpaper peeled at the corners, stained with old humidity and city air. One window didn’t open, and the other never fully closed, so they stuck a towel in the crack to keep the mosquitoes out. The fridge door creaked every time it opened, and they had to kick the bottom of it to make it close again.

Their beds were on opposite sides of the bedroom- Jake’s messy, covered in clean clothes he never folded, and Sunghoon’s rigidly neat, tucked tight like a hospital cot. They had one tiny table between them, always cluttered with receipts, unopened mail, spare change, and the occasional half-finished drink.

But the washroom? Spotless- recently tiled, water pressure strong enough to knock the stress out of your shoulders. Jake had fixed it himself. “If the world ends,” he liked to say, “I want to die with clean hair.”

They kept a small goldfish tank on the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. The built-in lights flickered unpredictably, casting a ghostly glow over the water whenever they sparked to life. Inside, four goldfish swam in lazy circles- there were always four. If one died, they’d replace it without much ceremony. They’d done it so many times they’d lost count. Neither of them knew exactly what kept killing the fish- bad water? Old wiring? Goldfish karma? But the cycle continued- four goldfish, always four, like a strange little ritual they never talked about but always maintained.

ii. 

“Same order?” Sunghoon called from the kitchen.

“Same order,” a grandma answered from her table.

The group of grandmas were back again. It was their third, probably fourth visit of the week. They were a group of ladies that had known each other since high school and were fortunate enough to not have their life uprooted with immigration or job opportunities their husbands wanted to explore. And even now, years- perhaps decades- later, they still spent all their time together. Their meetups started at one of their houses, then they moved on to the park. But they stopped going there because the walk was too long. Then, eventually, after jumping between locations, they found Tin Cups Diner- where the owners loved them and doted on their wants and needs. 

Recently, they’d formed a habit of playing Mahjong while sitting on the cramped table. Sunghoon and Jake were surprised this didn’t start sooner- it was quite a stereotype; grandmas and mahjong. It was a tale as old as time. And Sunghoon and Jake didn’t mind it at all. Their laughter and occasional bickering was lively, reminding them of their old houses that they lived in with their respectful families. It was good company. Sometimes, Jake would intrude to break up their arguments like a charming son-in-law. 

They adored Jake- always pinched his cheeks and asked him if he had a girlfriend yet. There was the occasional “my granddaughter is single, if you’re interested” but Jake assured them that their precious granddaughters would probably not want to date a broke diner owner. They adored Sunghoon too, but they learned to show it differently. Sunghoon didn’t like to be touched but he liked to be smiled at and he liked when they complimented his food. The grandmas grew a habit of tipping them extra, especially on days Sunghoon laughed back at their jokes.

“How many rounds do you think they’ve played?” Jake sauntered into the kitchen, crumpled bills and loose change in his hands from serving the other customers. They peered at the grandmas’ table through the window. “And who’s the new girl?”

The past couple of days, Sunghoon and Jake observed that there was a girl much younger than them that had joined the grandmas in playing Mahjong. They weren’t sure how it started- perhaps they were distracted when she got invited to their little clique. But from what they could gather, from the occasional praise or groan, she was good at the game- had tips and tricks up her sleeve she wasn’t willing to share.

Sunghoon ignored Jake, eyes focused on the boiling pot in front of him. The grandmas wanted macaroni in broth again, as usual. And they also ordered stir fried udon with beef- no one had ordered that in a while but it had been a recurring order the past few days. Probably because of the new girl, whose name they learnt was Y/N through passing conversation. 

“Do you think she’s one of their granddaughters or something?” Jake continued. His eyes were fixed on the girl- her confident smile that always showed her teeth, the crinkle in her eyes when she was close to winning a game, her manicured nails that were always in a deep white and green pattern that mimicked the mahjong tiles and her trendy outfits that never ceased to gain compliments from the grandmas. 

Which was saying a lot because these grandmas hated the younger generation and their revealing clothing and bright jewellery.

Y/N was modest- in the way she played, in the way she dressed and in the way she ate.

“God knows,” Sunghoon shook his head and tucked away the strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. The steam from the macaroni glossed his skin as he plated the food. “Go serve them. Tell them their udon will come in a bit.”

Struggling to balance five plates of their macaroni in broth with both arms, Jake reached the table of grandmas with his usual smile that had them swooning. “There he is!” One of them cheered, the one wearing the plastic green sun hat even though she was sitting indoors. When asked about it, she’d always tell them to stop questioning her fashion choices. 

“Hope you enjoy the food today,” Jake grinned at them, eyes briefly flashing towards Y/N. He caught her smile, the way she warmly looked at all the grandmas while they cooed at Jake. 

“When do we not?” Another grandma said, reaching to pinch Jake’s cheek- only slightly, barely, like he was her grandson. “Thank you sweetheart.”

“Why don’t you play mahjong with us today, dear?” One of the grandmas looked up at Jake with anticipation. 

Their attention, however, was pulled towards the kitchen window where Sunghoon stretched his arm out with the plate of udon. “Again with the mahjong, nainai?” Sunghoon chuckled at her, brows holding his annoyance. He was terrible at hiding his emotions- most of it sat on his face, right there on his brows and lips.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” another grandma insisted. “I don’t understand why you don’t want to play.”

“Y/N can teach you!” A grandma hollered with excitement, eyes glowing as if she’d made a new revelation. The rest of the grandmas nodded with enthusiasm. 

Y/N, on the other hand, laughed awkwardly and shook her head, her gaze stuck somewhere in between Sunghoon and Jake. “I don’t play that well,” her voice came out a whisper.

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, honey,” the grandma sitting beside her nudged her arm with hers. “You’re phenomenal.”

Sunghoon, who was leaning out the window, hand hanging off the railing, watched as Jake placed the plate of udon in front of her Y/N. She smiled at him thankfully, the corner of her eyes crinkling, fingers instinctively reaching for a pair of chopsticks.

“You guys already have enough players,” Jake cracked them his signature grin- the one that had girls swooning and boys feeling insecure of their own smiles. “The six of you make a great group.”

His response was met with a string of groans and “alright, alright, get back to working” and a lot of hands teasingly waving at him to leave. As Jake walked away, Y/N took a bite of her udon and her expression changed into a sense of bliss, from satisfaction that the dish gave. Sunghoon saw it- that look of utter appreciation for his cooking- and let it burn into his memory. Just as he did with most customers he caught enjoying his food. Sunghoon liked knowing his customers were satisfied with what they were paying for- that his skill was recognised. 

“How many games do you think she won this time?” Jake was back in the kitchen again, eyes still on the girl that was playing mahjong with the grandmas. Sunghoon glanced at him from the corner of his eyes- he saw his toothy grin, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. 

“Every game,” Sunghoon mumbled- he was keeping count. It was hard not to when the grandmas whined and crooned after every game and patted Y/N on the back with pride.

iii. 

A few days later, on an early afternoon where the diner was unfamiliarly empty, the grandmas were back again to wile away time with mahjong. Along with them, they brought their mahjong sidekick- the best player on the block, a girl who later revealed that she was formerly a mahjong prodigy and used to play at the national level.

Now, she was just a student at the local college, studying economics with a minor in sociology. She was going to graduate in a year. And in her free time, instead of being holed up in her room studying, she’d much rather sit with the grandmas and play mahjong. 

“Aren’t there only supposed to be four players in mahjong?” Jake approached them with his arms full of their orders, a quirk in his brow as he looked at the group of six.

“We take turns playing,” the grandma wearing the plastic green sun hat answered, her hands clasped in her lap. She clearly wasn’t playing in this round- and neither was Y/N. She was helping the grandma beside her- subtly cheating, but not really.

Jake placed Y/N’s udon in front of her and she gave him that smile again- polite, grateful and happy. “Enjoy,” he said to her, voice tuned and chirpy that seemed to make her fluster. But as quickly as she had reacted, the faster she moved on to eating her order. And she was back in her world again- savouring her food, eyes locking onto the mahjong tiles, laughing with the grandmas.

“She’s cute, no?” Jake sauntered into the kitchen with a lightness in his step, wiping his hands with a washcloth and leaning his back against the counter. Beside him, Sunghoon was pre-frying fish balls for the day, his lips pursed and eyes lowered as usual.

“She’s a college student,” Sunghoon said- like it was the most obvious fact in the world, a fact Jake was already aware of. 

“What's your point?” Jake was teasing him now, his lip pulled between his teeth and eyebrows wiggling. “You find her cute too, don’t you?” He was poking Sunghon’s side now, laughing as he got a reaction out of him.

Sunghoon groaned, only passing Jake a smile that he couldn’t hold back- partly because he could never hold his smile back around Jake and partly because the moment felt juvenile, like they were young and in high school again. “Grow up,” Sunghoon chuckled and pushed him away, his arm stretching into Jake’s shoulder.

“You know I joke,” Jake laughed too, making his way out of the kitchen to watch the grandmas play mahjong- to watch Y/N play mahjong. 

He leaned against the wall separating the diner from the kitchen, his tongue poking his cheek, meddling with his own fingers at the sight of the girl. But, honestly speaking, Jake wasn’t the stud people sought him out to be. He was outgoing, extroverted, big-mouthed (a quality Sunghoon both loved and despised) and liked to flirt with the young, attractive girls he met in the market. But that was where his reputation ended- his kindness always preceded him.

So, Jake didn’t have any intention of doing anything about Y/N. She was cute and she seemed to make his dear old customers happy. 

Behind him, Sunghoon stepped out of the kitchen, his hands running through his hair to get the sweat and steam out. No matter how much time he spent styling his hair in the morning, it would always be a greasy mess by the end of the day.

“Are you guys gossiping about the gold dealer’s wife again?” Sunghoon smirked when the grandmas turned to him with looks of feigned guilt. 

“I’m telling you, she’s cheating on her husband!” One the grandmas hollered in defense. 

“I saw her walk out of his brother’s apartment with my own eyes,” another grandma insisted, literally stomping her foot down and hitting the edge of the table with her fists to make a point.

As the mahjong pieces in front of them rattled in the ruckus, Y/N let out a soft giggle at their conversion. “Careful,” her high pitched laugh went lost amongst the argument- but they heard it.

“They’re family, it could mean anything,” Sunghoon went on, crossing his arms across his chest.

“She walked out with messy hair, Sunghoon!”

“Adultery is a grave accusation, nainai,” Jake chimed in- obviously a joke, obviously to tease. He cracked his knuckles against his palms, shifting his weight onto one foot, crossing his leg.

“Oh, I’ll listen to you when you play Mahjong with us,” one of the grandmas teased, waving Jake off with that twinkle of mischief she always carried.

A chorus of claps and cackles followed- Jake sighed dramatically, Sunghoon groaned under his breath, and Y/N gave an awkward laugh, unsure whether to join in or retreat.

“Not this again,” Sunghoon muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I swear it’s a daily ritual now,” Jake added, gesturing helplessly at the table like it betrayed him. “The Mahjong Agenda.”

“What is it with you two?” One grandma cried out, genuinely baffled. “Why do you hate it so much?”

“We don’t hate it,” Jake replied, hands raised in defense. “It’s just… a lot. Too many rules. Such long games. My brain’s already full running this place.”

Then, quietly- almost like she didn’t mean to speak at all- Y/N cleared her throat. “It doesn’t take that long if you know the game,” she offered, her voice soft, almost like she was testing her place in the whole dynamic.

The grandmas hummed in agreement, nodding like they’d been saying the same thing for years.

Sunghoon looked at her then, eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. Jake’s smirk stretched wider. “Well,” he said, “we don’t actually know the game, do we?”

The pause that followed held something- barely there, but noticed. A shift in attention, a thread pulled tighter.

Then, just as quickly, a grandma slapped the table. “Then learn!”

The clamor picked up again- more groans, more mock complaints, more laughter that filled the small diner like sunlight. Sunghoon shook his head and ducked back into the kitchen. Jake chuckled and grabbed the designated chipped mug of milk, stepping outside to feed the orange cat waiting in front of the diner.

That night, while they were locking up the diner after last call- Jake pulling the shutter down, Sunghoon crouching to pet the cat one last time for the day- Sunghoon started pondering. The street lights around them were starting to flicker shut and street vendors were on their way home- just like the two owners of Tin Cup Diner. 

“Maybe we should get into mahjong.” Sunghoon said as they started walking.

Jake almost stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned his head towards Sunghoon, his eyes wide and confused. “Who are you and what did you do to my friend?”

Sunghoon fell into a soft string of laughter as Jake tackled his arm around his shoulders. The pair swayed as they walked, letting the quiet street be filled by their childish bonding.

“Why so sudden?” Jake rubbed his fist into Sunghoon’s hair as he tried pushing him off his back, eyes squinting as he failed to hide his cackling. “It’s because of the girl, isn’t it? Y/N?”

“Fuck off, no,” Sunghoon successfully shrugged Jake off him, fixing his jacket. They fell into a steady step again. “I just thought… since they’ve been insisting for so long. Could be fun?”

Jake scoffed and kicked a pebble on the street. “Since when did you care about fun?”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Sunghoon nudged Jake with his arm. 

“Fine,” Jake rolled his eyes. “I’ll learn when I’m not lazy,” the pair grinned at each other and let silence engulf them through the rest of their walk.

iv. 

When Y/N came to the diner, alone and with a book tucked under her arm, Sunghoon and Jake exchanged confused looks. The grandmas weren’t coming in that day, that was for sure. And Y/N had been slowly eating her udon and reading her book- something on economics, as Jake caught a glimpse of, while serving her food. The customers walking in and out with the occasional whiff of cigarette didn’t bother her- she continued to read, eat and listen to music through wired earphones and a small MP3 player.

The windows of the diner started to fog and a slight rain drizzled outside. Many customers started running in with puddles dragging behind them. All Sunghoon could think about was how they would struggle to clean that up later.

“Weird that she’s come here alone, no?” Jake leaned into Sunghoon’s side as he asked the question, eyes trained on Y/N and her unfazed frame.

The pair were staring at her from the kitchen- she was two tables away from their eyeshot. “Just be glad we have business,” Sunghoon whispered back to Jake, turning to continue making wonton soup. “She’s done eating, Jake.”

“Right,” Jake cleared his throat and moved out of the kitchen.

Jake approached her with his usual confidence, a pep in his step and arm already stretched towards her empty place. Y/N felt his presence before he even reached her but she chose to ignore him, gaze still on her book. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there in that position. Outside, the sky was getting darker and the neon shop signs were getting brighter.

“Odd place to sit and read, don’t you think?” Jake hovered near her before taking her emptied plate.

His words startled her, but she only blinked before craning her body to face him. “I quite like it here actually,” she smiled at him- polite, curt, a little shy. 

“The clatter doesn't bother you?” He raised his brows.

She gave him a soft shrug, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not really. It’s kind of… comforting.”

Jake tried not to smile- his lips pressed together, tongue clicking lightly against the roof of his mouth. Out of instinct, he flicked his eyes toward the kitchen window, hoping to catch Sunghoon’s reaction- but he was too busy tossing rice in the wok, face glazed with steam.

“Well,” Jake turned back to her, “can I get you anything else?”

She glanced at her phone, then back at him. “My dad’s picking me up soon. But… a milk tea sounds nice in the meantime?”

There was something in her tone- soft but sure, her wide eyes catching the warm overhead light, lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Jake stared for a beat longer than he meant to.

“Milk tea, coming right up,” he finally said, his gaze lingering a moment too long before he turned away, even though she was already back to her book.

Jake slipped into the kitchen, still grinning to himself as he filled the kettle. The place smelled like soy and garlic and something slightly burnt- probably the fish balls. He reached for the tea leaves when Sunghoon, without looking up from his pan, muttered, “We’re out of eggs.”

Jake groaned loudly, clanging the kettle a little harder than necessary. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Sunghoon said, flipping rice with practiced ease.

“Why didn’t we buy them this morning?”

“Because someone wanted to sleep in,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

Jake groaned again- longer, more dramatic this time- and stomped toward the door, grabbing his wallet off the hook. “Fine. Eggs. Got it.”

He was halfway out when he suddenly remembered. “Also! We need a new goldfish!” He yelled over his shoulder. “One of them kicked it last night!”

Sunghoon sighed but nodded, still not turning around. “Yeah, yeah. Just go.”

Jake waved him off and disappeared through the door with the jingle of the diner bell, taking one last glance of Y/N.

A moment later, Sunghoon wiped his hands on a towel, picked up the chipped red-and-white porcelain cup with the cartoon cow and carefully placed it on a tray. He walked out into the quiet clatter of forks and shuffling bodies, eyes scanning the room until he spotted her again. She was still reading, still tucked into her chair like it was comfortable.

Without a word, he gently set the cup in front of her.

She looked up and smiled, that soft kind of gratefulness that didn’t need extra words. “Thank you,” she said.

Sunghoon stood there for a beat, staring at the back of her head as she returned to her book. He debated with himself for a moment, jaw tight, before finally opening his mouth. 

“So…” he started, already regretting it. “Mahjong?”

He cringed internally. His lack of people skills humiliated him more often than not, and this time was no exception. He crossed his arms over his chest, resisting the urge to slap a hand over his face as she turned to look at him again.

“What about Mahjong?” She asked, smiling- shy, polite, unsure of what he meant.

“Oh, um,” he cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “You’re really good at it.”

He wanted to throw himself off the roof for saying something so plain.

“Thank you,” she replied, voice still soft and a little hesitant, barely audible. But Sunghoon heard it clearly.

“The nainais love playing with you,” he added, trying again.

She chuckled, the sound light as she fidgeted with the edges of her book. “I love playing with them too.”

Sunghoon nodded, heart thudding louder than he’d like to admit. “I was thinking maybe I should start playing,” he said. “Since they insist so much.”

That earned him a brighter smile-genuine and almost surprised. “They’ll be so excited to hear that,” she said, eyes warm.

With that, Sunghoon gave her a small nod- tried for a smile, though it came out a little crooked- and turned to head back to the kitchen. The familiar clang of cutlery and low hum of chatter greeted him as a few customers called out their orders. He slipped into the rhythm easily, hands moving on instinct as he took their requests, his mind only half in it as he waited for Jake to return with the eggs.

v. 

The grandmas had just finished their lunch- macaroni in broth, as always- and were setting up the mahjong tiles on their favorite table. The diner's usual clatter had dulled into a comforting quiet. Jake was wiping down tables, Sunghoon was prepping ingredients for the dinner crowd, and Y/N, elbows on the table, was watching the grandmas argue over who mixed the tiles wrong.

“You always flip too fast, Mei Lin,” one said, tapping the table.

“And you always complain, so maybe it balances out,” another shot back.

Y/N smiled into her sleeve.

From the kitchen window, Sunghoon’s eyes flickered to them again and again. The chatter, the rhythmic clack of tiles, the easy comfort between Y/N and the old women- something about it kept pulling his attention.

Finally, after drying his hands on a towel, he walked over. He didn’t sit- just crossed his arms and stood behind them, quiet, trying to peek over the top of their heads. No one minded- he was part of the furniture here, just like the smell of soy sauce and the cat waiting by the door.

He lingered for a moment. Then, almost too softly, he said, “…What do the symbols mean?”

One of the grandmas blinked up at him like she hadn’t realized he was standing there. Another simply grinned- slow and mischievous, the way a cat does when it knows it’s already won.

“Well, well, well,” said one of them, elbowing Y/N playfully. “Someone finally asked.”

Y/N looked up, her expression touched with a kind of surprised warmth. She hadn’t expected him to actually come over. Tilting her head, she studied him- tall and awkward, arms still crossed like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Which ones?” She asked gently.

Sunghoon shrugged, looking at the tiles like they’d just started speaking in code. “All of them?”

From across the diner, Jake’s voice rang out, dry and amused. “He doesn’t even know the difference between bamboo and buns.”

“They’re dots, not buns,” Y/N laughed, the sound small but clear. She scooted to the side and patted the empty seat next to her. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Sunghoon hesitated- just for a second. Then he exhaled through his nose, muttered something under his breath, and sat down. He was a little stiff, a little too careful. It was like he wasn’t sure how to exist in a chair that wasn’t in the kitchen.

Immediately, two grandmas shuffled closer, surrounding him on either side. One pushed a pile of tiles toward him, the other clapped his back in pride- Sunghoon cracked her a helpless grin. He looked cornered, like a kid roped into a family dinner with relatives he hadn’t seen in ten years.

The grandmas- delighted beyond measure- turned their sights on Jake.

“You too!” One shouted, pointing a finger directly at him. “If Sunghoon’s playing, you are too.”

Jake sighed, slinging the towel over his shoulder with dramatic flair. “You people are relentless.”

But he paused. His eyes flicked to Sunghoon, caught mid-instruction, nodding solemnly like he was absorbing ancient wisdom. Then Jake looked at the grandmas- hopeful, eager, waiting.

And finally, he looked at Y/N. She was watching him- not pressuring him, just waiting, a small smile playing on her lips, fingers brushing over the edge of a tile like she was testing the waters.

Jake let out a long breath, one hand on his hip. “Fine,” he muttered, walking over. “You people act like we don’t have a whole diner to run.”

The table erupted in cheers before he even pulled out a chair.

Jake pulled out a chair with exaggerated reluctance, plopping down beside a triumphant-looking grandma who immediately pulled his face closer to her to kiss his cheek. “God bless,” she said and Jake giggled at her.

“Shuffle those tiles, boy,” another ordered, and Jake obediently reached for the pile, side-eyeing Y/N.

“You planned this,” he whispered.

She grinned, not denying it. “Welcome to the table.”

Sunghoon shifted to make room, now sitting between Y/N and another grandma who was already assigning him a wind tile. “You missed the whole tutorial,” he told Jake, but there was no smugness in his voice- just quiet amusement.

Jake leaned closer to Y/N. “So, are you gonna save me from complete humiliation or just let me die out here?”

Y/N, still smiling, tapped two tiles. “These are dots. Think of them as buns, since you insist. And that- ” she pointed to another, “-is bamboo. Try not to mix them up this time.”

Jake pretended to take notes on his hand with an invisible pen. “Dots are buns. Got it. Is there a tile for coffee? Because that’s what I’m playing for.”

“No,” one of the grandmas declared. “You’re playing for dignity.”

Y/N laughed, and even Sunghoon let out a low chuckle.

As the round began, the grandmas shouted instructions over each other. Jake was immediately lost, discarding a tile that made two of them gasp dramatically. Sunghoon picked it up cautiously, frowning at his hand like it was a puzzle missing pieces.

Somehow, Y/N stayed calm- her voice soft but sure as she walked them both through their first real game. Her presence made the table feel less chaotic and more like a circle- one that had room for all of them. There was the occasional cheer or groan of a play gone right- or very, very wrong.

Neither Sunghoon or Jake won a game that day- the pair, in fact, had left the game in between to tend to their customers. As they fell into the bustling rhythm of their diner, serving plates of food and cleaning down dirty counters, the grandmas complained in low groans. Y/N continued playing with her usual silence and a laugh thrown in from time to time.

One of the grandmas insisted on a rematch- she just wanted Jake and Sunghoon to play. And neither of them said no.

vi. 

The next afternoon, the mahjong table was already waiting when Jake and Sunghoon walked out of the kitchen. The grandmas had their lunch pre-cooked this time, and Y/N was already seated, shuffling the tiles absentmindedly with one hand while sipping soup with the other.

“She’s been waiting for you two,” a grandma whispered loudly, elbowing another.

Jake gave a mock bow. “Apologies, honored ones. We had... actual jobs.”

One of the grandmas slapped her tile down with finality. “Alright,” she declared, chin high, eyes glinting. “Just the boys this time. I want to see if either of them actually learned anything.”

Jake’s head snapped up. “What- no, no, I haven’t even processed the rules.”

“You’re just scared,” another grandma teased.

“Terrified,” he confirmed. “Utterly and completely terrified.”

Sunghoon tried to get up, mumbling something about prep work, but was immediately pulled back down by a surprisingly strong wrinkled hand.

“You sit,” she ordered. “You owe us after years of avoiding this table.”

Y/N just smiled into her sleeve, watching as the grandmas quickly reset the tiles, their movements quick and practiced. Sunghoon looked resigned. Jake looked betrayed.

The game started with less chaos than last time. Jake remembered a few rules, mostly. Sunghoon took it more seriously than necessary. And Y/N, still not playing, quietly pointed to the right moves without drawing too much attention to herself.

“Okay,” Jake said, squinting at his tiles. “I have three bamboo sticks. And three more. That’s… something?”

“You’re getting there,” Y/N encouraged.

“Don’t gas him up,” Sunghoon muttered. “He still discards every dragon tile like it’s cursed.”

“It feels cursed,” Jake insisted.

“You two bicker like an old married couple,” a grandma commented.

“No,” Y/N smiled, “they bicker like brothers.”

The next fifteen minutes were loud, messy, and full of good-natured mockery. Jake made illegal moves twice, Sunghoon forgot which wind he was, and both of them accused the grandmas of stacking the deck.

But something shifted too.

Sunghoon started leaning into the chaos, rolling his eyes but not pulling away when a grandma ruffled his hair- something he usually flinched at. Jake laughed like he hadn’t in weeks- head thrown back, palms smacking the table when he finally made a decent play.

Y/N watched from the side, sipping her milk tea, legs curled up beneath her, a smile tugging at her lips that she didn’t bother hiding. She’d help them sometimes, other times would simply stare back at their confused expressions with a teasing grin.

When the game finally ended- Sunghoon won, obviously- the grandmas stood triumphantly, stretching their backs.

“We knew you had it in you, Sunghoon,” one of them encouraged.

Jake’s shoulders visibly sagged, his lip jutting forward in a pout. It was such an involuntary reaction, Y/N couldn’t help but stare at the innocence behind it. “You didn’t think you had it in me?”

“You’re getting there,” another grandma assured. 

“That’s so mean! I’m nicer to you lot than he is!”

“Oh, don’t say things like that!”

The grandmas left with promises of bringing home made dessert the next day- their special treat for their favourite diner owners. For finally succumbing to their requests and also making them feel like they were loved again. These grandmas, from what Sunghoon and Jake had learnt from rubbernecking, always complained about feeling neglected by their children and grandchildren. Perhaps they displaced that emptiness onto Y/N, Sunghoon and Jake.

Y/N didn’t leave right away.

She stayed at the table, legs tucked neatly under the chair, her half-empty cup of milk tea in front of her. She scrolled through her phone absentmindedly, the gentle clatter of the diner folding around her like background noise she’d grown to like. Jake and Sunghoon had returned to their usual rhythm- Jake wiping down counters, Sunghoon chopping vegetables in the back- but for a brief moment, neither of them noticed that she hadn’t left with the grandmas.

Until Sunghoon glanced through the kitchen window.

“Jake,” he called out, eyes narrowing.

Jake had just finished taking an order. He tucked his notepad away and leaned into the pass-through. “What?”

Sunghoon jerked his chin toward the dining area. “Why’s she still here?”

They both stared.

Y/N sat with one elbow on the table, phone in hand, tea in the other. She didn’t look out of place- just… still.

Jake shrugged. “I dunno. Let me go ask.”

Before Sunghoon could say anything- probably to stop him- Jake had already tossed the towel over his shoulder and stepped out of the kitchen. Sunghoon sighed. In moments like these, he loathed Jake’s confidence, the way he never hesitated, never second-guessed himself to the point of paralysis.

Jake approached her with easy steps.

“Everything okay?” He asked, his voice gentler than usual.

Y/N looked up, blinking out of her thoughts. “Oh- yeah.” She smiled, polite but sincere. “I’m just waiting for my dad to pick me up. If that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Jake said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “You looked a little lonely. Just wanted to see if you needed company.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. “No, I’m okay, really. But… could I order a tuna melt?” She looked up at him, her voice more sure now. “I’ve been meaning to try it.”

Jake lit up like she’d complimented his accomplishments. “One tuna melt, coming up.”

He turned back toward the kitchen, only to find Sunghoon already halfway through assembling the sandwich. Jake smirked, but didn’t say anything. He’d learned a long time ago not to poke the bear.

He wanted to stay, maybe keep the conversation going, but another customer had walked in and flagged him down. With a silent sigh, Jake turned on his heel and went to take the order, throwing one last glance back toward Y/N as she settled into her seat again, warm tea in hand, waiting- not just for her father now, maybe, but for the comfort of the sandwich being made in a kitchen she’d grown used to.

Sunghoon wiped his hands on a dish towel before picking up the plate from the counter. The tuna melt, golden and crisp, sat beside a pile of thick-cut fries and a small cup of house-made pickles. He tried not to look too eager as he walked it over.

“Here you go,” he said, placing it down in front of her.

Y/N perked up immediately. “Oh- thank you.” Her voice was warm now, a little less shy than before. She took in the sandwich like it was an offering, her eyes lighting up at the smell.

Sunghoon didn’t leave right away. He hovered awkwardly, hands shoved in his apron pockets, and after a pause, he asked, “Do you have your own mahjong set?”

She blinked up at him. “Hmm?”

“You always play with the nainais’ sets. Was just wondering.”

She tilted her head, thinking. “I do. But it’s kind of old. I’ve been meaning to get a new one, actually. Something I can customize, maybe.”

Sunghoon nodded, lips pressing into something almost like a smile. “I know a guy in the market. He does hand-carved pieces.”

Her eyes widened just slightly. “That sounds… kind of cool.”

“It is,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking over his shoulder toward the kitchen before returning to meet her gaze. “Jake and I could take you sometime, if you want.”

He didn’t say it casually, and he wasn’t suave about it. His voice was even and sincere, but there was the usual hesitation underneath, like he was still learning how to offer connection instead of deflecting it.

Y/N looked down for a second, then up at him again- reading his expression, measuring the offer for what it was: a genuine one.

“I’d like that,” she said finally, and smiled. Not polite. Not shy. Just soft.

And Sunghoon, for once, didn’t overthink it. He just nodded, slow and certain. “Cool. We’ll figure out a day.”

He turned to leave, and behind him, Y/N reached for the sandwich- realizing, as she took her first bite, that it was still warm, still perfect, like maybe, somehow, she was meant to stay a little longer.

That night, Sunghoon and Jake had locked up early. The diner had been quiet, and they figured it was as good a time as any to finally replace the fourth goldfish. One had died a few days ago, and the tank looked oddly lopsided without it. Not that they were heading to a proper pet shop- just to the old man on a bicycle who sold goldfish dangling from sticks, each one bobbing in its own water-filled plastic pouch, swaying like strange fruit.

While Jake fished out cash from his back pocket, Sunghoon cleared his throat. “I told Y/N we’d take her to that custom mahjong place.”

Jake froze mid-motion, the folded bills pausing between his fingers and the vendor’s outstretched hand. The vendor blinked at him, mildly annoyed, and snatched the money anyway. Jake nearly fumbled the bag with the new goldfish.

“You, what?” He said, staring at Sunghoon.

“It came up when I brought her the tuna melt,” Sunghoon said, casually- but not too casually. “Just… in passing.”

Jake started walking again, the bag swinging from his fingers. He smirked, glancing over. “Passing conversation, huh?”

“Yeah. Passing conversation,” Sunghoon repeated, quieter this time. Like he was trying to convince himself more than Jake.

Jake didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just let the silence stretch between them as the glow of the street lights flickered on. He could hear the gentle slosh of water and the occasional squeak of the goldfish bag in his hand.

Jake shot a sidelong glance at Sunghoon, who kept his eyes fixed stubbornly on the road ahead.

“So,” Jake started, voice carefully casual, “you gave her a sandwich and a field trip?”

Sunghoon didn’t look at him. “Don’t be dramatic.”

Jake snorted. “I’m not being dramatic. I just didn’t know tuna melts came with custom mahjong tours now.”

Sunghoon sighed through his nose. “It wasn’t a big deal. We were talking. She said she wanted to buy a new set. I said I knew a guy. It’s not-”

“A date?” Jake cut in, biting down a grin.

Sunghoon glared at him, then immediately looked away again. “It’s not,” he muttered. But his ears were pink.

Jake laughed under his breath, nudging Sunghoon with his elbow. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not lying,” Sunghoon insisted, voice rising slightly. “I’m-” He paused. “It wasn’t planned, okay?”

Jake let the silence sit between them for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Alright.” They walked on a few more steps before Jake added, teasing but not unkind, “You just accidentally offered to take a girl you barely know to a shop you’ve never even taken me to.”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes. “We didn’t start playing mahjong until literally yesterday.”

The goldfish made a sudden turn in the bag, catching their attention. Both of them looked down at it, watching the flash of orange dart through the water like it had somewhere important to be.

Jake adjusted his grip on the plastic loop. “So, when are we going?”

“Whenever she’s free, I guess.” Sunghoon shrugged.

Jake hummed. “You gonna ask her?”

“I figured… we’d ask her. Together.”

Jake blinked at him. For once, no joke came out of his mouth. He just nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

vii. 

Y/N replayed the way Sunghoon and Jake had approached her about the mahjong shop over and over again until the day actually arrived.

The memory still made her giggle, her stomach fluttering in that light, ridiculous way that meant she was more nervous than she wanted to admit.

It was the way Sunghoon trailed a few steps behind Jake, hands in his pockets, gaze darting everywhere except her face- like the whole plan hadn’t been his idea in the first place. Jake had done the talking, naturally, with that easy, familiar confidence of his. "When are you free?" he had asked, flashing that bright, lopsided grin like this was just another errand, nothing special at all. Meanwhile, Sunghoon stood behind him and nodded- once, twice- as though trying to keep it cool, but looking exactly like a guilty accomplice.

She remembered how Jake waited for her answer without pressure, and how Sunghoon pretended not to care but had looked up just enough to meet her eyes when they finalised a plan.

They hadn’t even left yet, and somehow she was already looking forward to the afternoon like it was something that would matter.

The pair had asked her to meet them at the mouth of the old street market, just past the temple gate where the pavement turned to uneven stone and the smell of incense mingled with fried dough and fresh produce.

It wasn’t far from the diner, but it felt like stepping into another world- louder, warmer, slower somehow. Jake had said the mahjong stall was tucked somewhere in the back alleys, “next to the guy who sells antique radios and possibly illegal fireworks.” Sunghoon had just rolled his eyes at the description, muttering that he’d find it faster without Jake’s help.

Y/N arrived five minutes early, but they were already there- Jake leaned against a lamppost scrolling through his phone, Sunghoon sipping from a bottle of barley tea. Jake spotted her first, nudging Sunghoon with his elbow.

She smiled. They both straightened.

Jake grinned as she approached. “Right on time. I had money on you being early.”

“I am early,” Y/N replied, glancing at her watch with a teasing look. “But you two clearly beat me.”

Sunghoon gave a small, crooked smile. “Jake insisted we leave early just in case we got distracted by fried snacks.’”

Jake didn’t even pretend to be ashamed. “And we did, thank you very much.” He held out a paper bag that smelled vaguely like sesame and sugar. “Want one?”

Y/N took one without hesitation, and the three started walking- Sunghoon leading the way through the winding lanes while Jake lingered beside her, occasionally pointing out odd little shops with dramatic flair.

The market was a maze of sun-faded awnings, peeling posters, and curious smells. Old radios crackled from corners, kids darted between stalls and somewhere in the distance, a man yelled about a two-for-one mango deal like it was the end of the world.

“So,” Y/N asked, chewing thoughtfully. “How custom is this mahjong place?”

“You’ll see,” Sunghoon said, almost proudly. “Last time we were here, the guy tried to sell Jake a set shaped like sea cucumbers,” he added.

“I almost bought it,” Jake said defensively. “It was kind of cool.”

“It was horrifying,” Sunghoon muttered, but he was smiling too. “And we didn’t even play.”

Eventually, they reached a low tin-roofed shop wedged between two buildings, half-hidden by a hanging rug. A wooden sign above the door read, in hand-painted strokes: Mr. Liu’s Lucky Tiles.

Inside, the air was cooler. Shelves lined the walls, stacked high with mahjong sets of every shape and color- some traditional, some made of glass, others painted with dragons, koi, and cherry blossoms. There was even a neon pink set in the corner, shimmering like it had no business being in such a dusty room.

Mr. Liu himself appeared from behind a beaded curtain- an elderly man with a stooped back and sharp eyes, rubbing his hands like he already knew why they were there. 

Jake and Sunghoon had met Mr. Liu in the early, uncertain days of the diner- when the rent felt too high, the customers too few, and the future too blurry to hold onto. He had wandered in one quiet afternoon, ordered nothing but tea, and stayed for hours, offering them sharp, unsolicited advice on budgeting, supplier haggling, and why their menu needed at least one dish with ginger. Over time, his presence became a quiet constant- dropping by with old coins to tip with, passing down contacts for cheaper produce, and sometimes just sitting silently, like the kind of distant relative you don’t call often but always count on. Their bond was dependable, old-school, forged in unspoken trust and shared stubbornness.

“You brought a friend this time,” he said to Sunghoon, nodding at Y/N. “Finally someone with taste.”

Jake gasped, “I’m right here, sir.”

Mr. Liu ignored him. “So, what kind of set are we making?”

Y/N stepped closer to the table lined with carved tiles and paint samples. Her eyes flitted across the display- flashes of color, lacquered wood, tiny painted details that told entire stories.

“I want something brighter... maybe something in red, I don’t know...” she began, voice soft but certain as her fingers hovered over a row of designs. “Those cherry blossoms and koi fish look nice. I want some lanterns on there too.”

Mr. Liu looked impressed. “Bold choice. Most people play safe with ivory and jade.”

Jake leaned in. “She used to play national level mahjong, you know? She's got taste.”

Sunghoon glanced at him sideways, but said nothing, watching as Y/N picked up a tile and turned it over in her hand like she was already imagining it on her table at home. Mr. Liu looked at Y/N with a newfound appreciation.

“I want a set that looks like a showpiece and also like something I never want to stop playing with,” she said. “You know what I mean?”

Mr. Liu nodded, reaching for a notebook. “Alright then. Lanterns, koi, cherry blossoms- red base?”

“Maybe hints of gold too,” Y/N said, smiling now, gaining confidence in the picture she was painting. “Nothing too flashy, just pretty.”

“I like that,” Sunghoon murmured beside her, arms crossed, watching her more than the tiles.

Y/N looked back at him, flustered and a little taken aback- like she wasn’t expecting him to say anything at all, let alone agree so gently. Her fingers paused mid-gesture over a tray of tiles, and for a moment, the noise of the shop faded beneath the warmth that crawled up her neck.

Sunghoon didn’t seem to notice what he’d done, or maybe he did and was pretending not to. His gaze dropped to the tiles again, expression unreadable except for the slight twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips.

Jake, standing a few feet away and pretending to examine a display of dice he definitely didn’t need, caught the shift in atmosphere. He turned back just in time to see Y/N blinking rapidly and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear like she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

Mr. Liu chuckled, already sketching something quick in the corner of his pad. “Come back in a week. And bring better taste with you next time,” he added to Jake, without looking up.

“I literally brought her,” Jake pointed out, affronted.

“And yet,” Mr. Liu deadpanned, turning a page.

Y/N laughed under her breath, the kind of laugh that softened the tension in her shoulders. Jake pouted dramatically, throwing his hands up before shoving them into his pockets, but even that didn’t mask the faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t mind him,” Sunghoon said to Y/N, his voice low but teasing. “Mr. Liu insults people he actually likes.”

“I realised,” Y/N smiled, looking back at the old man who was now carefully selecting tiles from a display tray. “It’s kind of endearing.”

Mr. Liu grunted at that, but a slight smirk betrayed him. “Don’t make me start liking you too, girl. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

She held back a laugh, standing beside the two boys like she’d been doing this for years. Something about the moment felt easy- settled, like the pieces were just starting to fall into place.

As Mr. Liu continued his prep, Jake leaned against the wall near the door and asked, “So, who’s your usual mahjong crowd, anyway? Just the grandmas?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. They’re terrifying.”

Jake looked at Sunghoon. “They made her cry once, didn’t they?”

Sunghoon raised his brows. “And then gave her candy ten minutes later.”

“Stockholm syndrome,” Jake said, solemnly.

“Community,” Y/N corrected, nudging him gently with her elbow.

Sunghoon watched the two of them banter, something calm blooming behind his ribs. He didn’t say much- he rarely did in such moments- but he didn’t want to. They were all in the same place now, tied together not by any great, dramatic event, but by the custom mahjong tiles Y/N was getting excited about.

Mr. Liu cleared his throat. “If you three are done flirting in my shop, I’ve got a set to design.”

Jake and Sunghoon immediately turned stiff and upright, but Y/N just laughed at the joke.

Outside, the sun was already leaning westward. The market buzzed with low chatter and the smells of sweet bean cakes and fresh noodles. Y/N stepped out of the shop with the boys beside her, her shoulders brushing Jake’s for a moment before she stepped forward to walk ahead.

Jake watched her for a second and then looked at Sunghoon. “Passing conversation, huh?”

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch this time. “Yeah,” he said, hands in his pockets. “Still passing.”

They didn’t head back right away. With a few hours to spare before the diner reopened for the evening shift, the three of them drifted through the market like a trio without plans- just steps and distractions.

Y/N stopped to try candied hawthorns from a vendor, offering one stick to each of the boys with a grin that dared them to say no. Jake bit into his without hesitation; Sunghoon looked suspicious of the sticky glaze but didn’t refuse.

They walked past a stall selling old records, and Y/N paused to thumb through them. Jake joined her, flipping covers and teasing her music taste until she found one he actually liked- and then teased him right back for being predictable.

At one point, they sat on a low wall near a koi pond tucked behind one of the older courtyards. Y/N threw breadcrumbs at the fish from a little paper pouch a nearby kid handed her, and Jake leaned back on his elbows, soaking in the sun, while Sunghoon quietly snapped a photo of the moment on his phone- he told himself that he would send it to his family as a life update. 

He never ended up sending it.

By the time they wandered back, the sky was slipping into evening hues. The air smelled different- cooler now, tinged with the promise of dinner. They said goodbye to Y/N at the corner where her ride usually picked her up.

Jake waved a little longer than necessary.

Sunghoon nudged him. “You gonna start writing poetry now?”

Jake just smiled. “Only passing poetry.”

viii. 

A week later, Y/N walked into the diner carrying a tote bag. The grandmas had barely finished their tea before she set the bag down and carefully pulled out her new mahjong set- red lacquered tiles gleaming, each one etched with cherry blossoms, koi fish, and lanterns that shimmered with the faintest touch of gold. It was vibrant, personal, unmistakably hers.

The grandmas crowded around instantly, handling the pieces like precious gems. They didn’t even start a game right away- just examined each tile, murmuring their approval in half-teasing, half-reverent tones.

Jake leaned over the counter, watching the scene with a satisfied grin. “We took her to the shop, didn’t we, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon, who had just finished washing his wok, paused at the sound of Jake’s voice. He glanced at Y/N, then at the tiles, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We did.”

Y/N turned to them, her voice quieter than the chatter around her. “Thank you,” she said, eyes lingering on Sunghoon.

Jake gave a mock bow. “All in the name of community service.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon said dryly, but there was a warmth behind it.

The grandmas eventually began setting up a game, fussing over who would sit where like it was a matter of national importance. Y/N was coaxed into playing the first round, mostly because one grandma claimed her young eyes would balance out their seasoned wisdom.

Whatever that meant.

Jake and Sunghoon watched from behind the counter, sipping their iced coffees in sync. They didn’t need to be told this was special- they could feel it in the way Y/N laughed, her shoulders looser than usual, the way her hands moved confidently across the tiles.

“She fits here,” Jake said softly.

Sunghoon didn’t respond immediately. He just watched her, a ghost of that now-familiar smile on his face. “Yeah. She does.”

When one of the grandmas called out for the boys to stop being useless and come play the next round, Jake threw his hands up in surrender and made his way over. Sunghoon followed with less enthusiasm but equal affection, letting himself be scolded into taking a seat.

The game had spiraled into chaos- the best kind. Laughter bounced off the diner’s tiled walls, filling every corner with something light and breathless. Tiles clacked as they slid across the table, and steam curled lazily from forgotten mugs of tea. Y/N kept blurting out advice to Jake, forgetting herself in the moment. Her voice, half a whisper and half a laugh, gave him away more than once.

Sunghoon, deadpan and increasingly dramatic, accused her of conspiracy. The grandmas, gleeful and unbothered, leaned into the mess. One of them chuckled behind a hand. “Flirting,” one of the grandmas had said, pointing a bony finger in the air like a courtroom judge. “This is flirting.”

Y/N nearly choked on her tea.

She tried to laugh and swallow at the same time, which resulted in a brief coughing fit and Jake immediately reaching for a napkin, his hand awkwardly hovering like he didn’t know where to place it. Sunghoon blinked at the grandma, mildly horrified.

“W-What?” Y/N spluttered. “No- I was just- he was- ”

“I rest my case,” the grandma said, triumphant, shuffling her tiles like she’d just orchestrated a grand romantic revelation.

Jake grinned, smug. “Guess we’re flirting now.”

“We are not- ” Y/N began, face hot.

“She’s blushing,” another grandma sang under her breath.

“I’m not!” She cried, but her voice cracked just enough to betray her.

Sunghoon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”

The table dissolved into laughter. The grandmas high-fived each other. Jake smiled wide and unbothered, soaking in the moment like sunshine. Y/N tried to pull herself together, but the smile tugging at her lips refused to leave.

The game went on, pieces shuffled and discarded, but something else hummed beneath the surface. Something quieter than the jokes, more enduring than the clatter. With each round, each crooked smile, each rolled eye and soft nudge, a kind of ease began to settle in like a puzzle slowly clicking into place.

When the grandmas finally packed up and headed out, full and happy, the diner dimmed into its late-hour hush. The stools were empty, the lights flickered to their lower setting, and the hum of the refrigerator replaced the chatter of customers. But Y/N didn’t move to leave.

She lingered, almost without noticing. Her coat remained draped over the chair, her half-finished tea still warm between her hands. The buzz of the day was gone, but she remained grounded in that moment- like staying made more sense than going.

As Jake started stacking chairs and Sunghoon pulled out a bucket and rag, Y/N stood and quietly joined them. It was wordless- natural. She moved between tables, wiping down surfaces with the same care she’d use on cleaning mahjong tiles. The rag moved in slow circles beneath her palm, her rhythm matching theirs.

“You don’t have to help,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice low, words folding into the quiet hum of the diner.

“I know,” Y/N said after a pause, her tone light but honest. “I’ve just got nothing much to do.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. He wasn’t good at arguing when the other person was so certain- or perhaps it was just that he didn’t know how to argue with Y/N. Maybe it wasn’t even about the argument. Maybe it was the way her presence always managed to make things feel just a little off balance, like trying to catch your breath mid-laugh. He held her gaze for a second, then gently reached forward and took the washcloth from her hands. His touch was careful, almost hesitant.

Without a word, he nodded toward the nearest booth. She understood and didn’t resist, sliding into the seat as he turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

A moment later, Jake was beside her, slipping easily into the space that Sunghoon had left behind- filling it with that familiar, quiet comfort he carried when he wasn’t trying too hard to be the loudest voice in the room.

“Do you have anything planned for the rest of the day?” Jake asked.

Y/N sighed, shoulders slumping as she flexed her hands in her lap. “I wish. The local theatre is screening Happy Together- Wong Kar Wai’s. I really wanted to go, but none of my friends were free.”

Jake wasn’t a film guy. He liked movies, sure- comedies, thrillers, the flashy new stuff everyone talked about. He’d heard of Wong Kar Wai, of course. Living in Hong Kong and not knowing who that was would be borderline sacrilegious- he’d be pebbled on the streets. But he didn’t think he had the patience for films like that- moody, slow, full of longing and long silences. He always zoned out halfway through.

Still, he looked at Y/N now, at the subtle way her expression dimmed as she talked about it, and he felt something small and stubborn twist in his chest. It was just a movie, he told himself. But for her, it wasn’t just anything. And for some reason, that mattered more.

“Let’s go then.”

Y/N let out a short, amused laugh, thinking he was joking. “What?”

“Let’s go to the movie,” Jake said again, more firmly this time. “Right now. We’ll make it.”

She blinked. “Jake, you can’t be serious. You have a diner to run, and Sunghoon-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved off her concern. “Sunghoon’s got this. And I’m too tired to work.”

“Jake,” she said, softer now, guilt brushing her voice, “We can’t just leave. I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

Jake gave her a lopsided grin, one corner of his mouth squirming up. “If Sunghoon’s gonna be mad at anyone, it definitely won’t be you, Y/N.”

And strangely, she believed that.

Y/N watched Jake disappear behind the swinging kitchen door, his posture sure, purposeful. She stayed seated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as muffled voices floated through. She couldn’t hear the words, but she saw the rhythm of them- Jake’s easy gestures, the way he clapped Sunghoon on the back, and Sunghoon’s quiet nod, his eyes never leaving the bubbling pots in front of him. There was no protest, no dramatic negotiation. 

It struck her how simple it had all been. That was the thing about Jake- he made everything look easy. But still, the guilt clung to her like static. She hadn’t meant to impose, hadn’t meant to be the reason someone was left behind at work. And yet… she also didn’t know how to say no- not to Jake. Not when he was being this version of himself- warm and certain and just a little bit insistent.

When Jake returned, he was smiling, bright and boyish. He stretched out his hand to her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Y/N looked up at him, then down at his hand. Her fingers hesitated for just a second before slipping into his.

“Let’s go,” he said, as if this was exactly what the day had always meant to become.

She nodded, quiet and unsure, and let him pull her gently to her feet.

They stepped out into the soft burn of late afternoon light, the kind that painted the edges of buildings gold and made shadows long and forgiving. The diner door shut behind them with a faint jingle, the hum of oil and clatter of dishes fading with distance. Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her hand still warm from Jake’s. Neither of them mentioned it.

They didn’t speak much on the way. Jake walked with a kind of boyish energy, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself now that he’d committed. Y/N, on the other hand, kept glancing up at the sky, letting the wind push loose strands of hair across her cheek. Something about the silence wasn’t awkward- it was gentle, like both of them were trying to slow down time just a little.

The theatre was tucked between an herbal medicine shop and a print store, its small marquee spelling out Happy Together in crooked red letters. A few people lingered near the entrance, smoking or talking softly in Cantonese, and Y/N paused before the door.

Jake watched her take it in- how her shoulders relaxed just a little, how her eyes brightened like she was seeing something familiar, something comforting.

“Excited?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very much.”

Inside, the theatre smelled of old velvet seats and faint incense, the kind that lingered from the temple across the street. They picked seats near the back- close enough to see the screen clearly, far enough to have space between them and the handful of other viewers. When the lights dimmed and the opening credits began, Y/N shifted just a little closer.

Jake didn’t understand all of the movie- its silences, its metaphors, its aching slowness- but he watched it like he was watching her watch it. He noticed the way her eyes softened during certain scenes, the way she tilted her head when the characters said something heavy. And maybe that was enough. Maybe understanding her joy was more important than understanding the film.

When the movie ended, neither of them rushed to get up. The screen faded to black, the credits rolled, and still they sat there. The city buzzed quietly outside, but in here, the movie hung between them.

Jake finally spoke, voice low. “That was… a lot.”

Y/N smiled without looking at him. “Yeah. That’s kind of the point.”

ix. 

Y/N hadn’t returned to the diner for a while. To be precise, she hadn’t returned since going to that movie with Jake. Sunghoon wasn’t sure if the two events were related in any way- the movie and the not returning to the diner. And in no means was Sunghoon trying to relate the two events. It was simply an observation he made, a fact Jake hadn’t yet acknowledged. 

The night Jake returned from the movie, Sunghoon had asked him how it went- the movie, in particular. But he knew Jake’s big mouth would talk about Y/N in the process. 

“The movie? I struggled to concentrate. You might like it, though, Sunghoon,” Jake had said. “Y/N loved it. She was quite happy.”

And Sunghoon didn’t question any further, too scared to come off as pestering or intrusive. He just nodded and continued moping the diner.

In the time that Y/N didn’t come to the diner, the grandmas still showed up. They followed their usual routine of eating, gossiping, playing mahjong and pestering Sunghoon and Jake. Some days, they would gossip with them, other days they would rope them into playing mahjong. But none of them acknowledged Y/N’s absence- or rather, they didn’t worry about her absence.

“Jake,” Sunghoon called out.

“Yeah?” He entered the kitchen, lip between his teeth and brows raised in question.

“Could you bring the tea to the nainais?” Sunghoon pointed at the five cups of tea on a tray and Jake nodded. “And could you ask them where Y/N is?”

Sunghoon didn’t meet Jake’s gaze- he was too shy to. He was afraid that Jake would take a single look into his eyes and call him out on something Sunghoon was too scared to admit. But Jake only raised a brow at him, lips slightly parted and tray of tee hovering mid pick-up.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Jake chuckled a moment later. “Too scared to ask them yourself?”

Sunghoon didn’t respond- he didn’t need to. Jake wasn’t expecting a response; he was already out the kitchen and approaching the grandmas. 

“Here you go,” he sang to them as he distributed the mugs. “Hey, how come your sixth teammate hasn’t shown up in a while?” He asked, so casually and confidently, as if the question hadn’t been gnawing at his brain.

“Oh, she’s busy with college, honey,” one of them answered. 

“I think this is one of her busy months,” another answered. 

Jake straightened and turned to look at Sunghoon through the kitchen window- he knew he was listening, despite his feigned distraction. With a smirk, Jake returned to cleaning up empty dishes of previous customers.

Sunghoon, still in the kitchen, spacing out at the chopped vegetables in front of him, wasn’t sure if he believed the grandmas. He let his mind spiral- that perhaps, something happened between Jake and Y/N during the movie, that perhaps she felt embarrassed or awkward for reasons he didn’t know. For reasons Jake hadn’t revealed.

Just then, his phone rang. It was odd for someone to be calling him, especially at this hour. His family only usually called him in the mornings or late into the night. 

Y/N’s name was flashing across the screen of his phone.

Sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat. 

Slowly, cautiously, he picked up his phone, his fingers wrapping around the curves of the metal and sliding up on the call. He pressed the warm screen against his ear.

“Hello?”

“Sunghoon,” Y/N’s voice rang loud into his ears. She sounded frantic, almost preoccupied. “I’m home alone.”

For a moment, Sunghoon’s brain froze. He wasn’t sure what to make of that sentence- his heart almost spasmed. 

“I’m home alone and there’s a fucking cockroach in the house and I don’t know what to do,” she sounded like she was on the verge of crying.

Sunghoon let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“I’m so sorry,” she continued. “I’m proper terrified of bugs- I don’t know what to do-”

“Y/N, don’t worry about it,” he breathed, voice now filled with a sudden sense of confidence. “I’ll be right there.”

“No, that’s not-”

He ended the call before she could finish her sentence. Sunghoon stared at his phone, screen now black, reflecting his expression back to him. 

Jake walked in, his notepad nestled in his hand, eyes scanning the words he scribbled on it. “Someone ordered a Hong Kong-style Spaghetti Bolognese. Been a while since someone asked for that,” he said, tilting his head to the side before tipping it back in surprise. Then, he lifted his gaze to find Sunghoon frozen in his spot, eyes static. “What happened, why do you look like that?”

“Y/N just called me,” Sunghoon mumbled like he didn’t believe it himself.

Jake’s eyes darted in confusion. “Oh,” he said. “Is she okay?”

“Said she needed help with something,” Sunghoon blinked at him.

“Well, then, go,” Jake said with no hesitation, like it was his most natural reaction. He looked at Sunghoon like he was stupid for not leaving yet. “Go on, I’ll cook.”

“Are you sure?” 

“It’s not my first time cooking, Sunghoon,” Jake tilted his head. “You’ve taught me well enough.”

A few minutes later, Sunghoon stood in front of her apartment door, a parcelled container of udon in one hand and a tube of cockroach repellent in the other. Her building was in a fancier part of town- sleek, quieter streets, the kind lined with flowering hedges and motion-sensor lights- but it hadn’t taken him long to get there. He’d practically sprinted the whole way, not that he’d ever admit it.

He raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles met the wood, he heard a thud from inside- what sounded unmistakably like a shoe being hurled across the room.

“The door’s open!” Y/N called, her voice carrying a distinct mix of panic and irritation.

Sunghoon eased the door open with caution, stepping inside like he was entering enemy territory. And there she was- perched on the edge of her coffee table, legs crossed, scanning the floor with laser focus. Her oversized t-shirt slouched off one shoulder, her hair was tied messily like she'd abandoned the effort halfway through, and she wore only one sock- the other nowhere in sight, presumably a casualty of the ongoing war.

Something about her in that moment- disheveled, determined, completely unguarded- hit him with a strange, quiet softness. He had to blink and remind himself why he was there. Don’t stare, he told himself, as he closed the door behind him and stepped fully into her chaos.

“I brought some food,” Sunghoon said, holding up the plastic bag. “You said you were home alone,” he placed it on a cupboard that stood beside the doorway.

Y/N turned to him with wide, grateful eyes, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. Her gaze flicked to the bag he set down, then back to him- as if the sight of someone else in her apartment, someone calm and steady, made the whole situation feel a little less ridiculous.

“You really didn’t have to,” she shook her head.

“Udon’s quick to make,” he said, walking over to her with brevity she didn’t have. “Where’s the cockroach?”

“I think it went under the bookshelf,” she whispered like it might hear her.

He stepped aside quietly, scanning the floor like he was on a mission- perhaps he was. There was a certain kind of silence between them, familiar and strange all at once. She got off the table and hovered behind him like a shadow, pointing occasionally, giving unhelpful commentary like “I swear it flew” and “I heard it crunch.”

Eventually, he found it- the cockroach, cornered and twitching near the leg of the bookshelf. Sunghoon didn’t hesitate- grabbed a slipper she handed him and swiftly ended its reign of terror. Y/N let out a dramatic breath, slumping against the wall like a war survivor.

“I owe you,” she muttered, hand pressed to her chest.

Sunghoon finally looked at her then, eyes flickering. “Not at all.”

She tilted her head, then went quiet. He stood there, still holding the slipper, unsure of what came next.

Sunghoon cleared his throat, not trusting himself to sit still any longer. “I’ll apply the repellent,” he said, holding up the tube like a peace offering. “Should last you a few weeks.”

He got to work without waiting for her response, crouching by the corners of the hall first. The motion was methodical, something to focus on- dot the edge, press the tube, swipe. She watched him quietly as he moved into the kitchen, applying it behind the fridge, at the back of cupboards, and beneath the shelves with careful, practiced hands. He didn’t ask where anything was- he just kind of knew.

When he finally turned to her again, their eyes met for half a second before he looked away. “Your room,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but it was quiet, like he didn’t want to startle her.

Y/N led him down the short hallway, her hand brushing the wall as she walked ahead. He followed, steps measured. The door creaked open, and she stepped aside to let him in first.

Sunghoon hesitated before crossing the threshold. It felt… intimate, somehow, to be here- not in a loud or obvious way, but in the quiet traces of her life that surrounded the space. He felt like he’d stepped into a part of her she didn’t often share. He almost didn’t feel worthy.

And though he told himself not to look, he did.

There were photos framed on the walls- friends, blurry oceans, distant smiles- and a half-used candle on the study desk. Books stacked in uneven piles, a hair tie hanging off the corner of the lamp. Her bed was slightly unmade, a soft quilt tangled in the center. And resting on the top of her bedside table was her personalized mahjong set- the red one, with gold koi fish and painted blossoms. The one he helped pick out.

Sunghoon’s throat tightened.

He crouched in the corners of the room and applied the repellent in silence. But every now and then, his gaze flickered back to the mahjong set. The fact that she kept it there, next to where she slept, said more than she probably knew.

After he was done, she led him back to the hall again. She played with the hum of her shirt, awkward as she turned back to him. Sunghoon’s stiff demeanor wasn’t much help either. He himself wasn’t sure what else to say. 

“Do you wanna stay for a bit?” She asked softly, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to ask the question. “I have those green tea cookies you like.”

Sunghoon blinked. His first thought was confusion- he didn’t remember ever mentioning those cookies to her. But then he remembered- a few weeks ago when Jake had come in late to the diner, holding up a box of green tea cookies like a peace offering, loudly apologizing to Sunghoon for coming in later than promised. Y/N had been there, seated between the grandmas, shuffling the tiles with a calm that felt so at home.

Jake had shoved the cookies onto the counter with a grin and a “I know you love these. Makes you less mad at me, huh?” And Sunghoon, red-eared and grumbling, had tried to hide a smile while the grandmas teased him for it.

She remembered that- that small moment.

He nodded before his throat could catch up to his thoughts. Something about the offer, her remembering, the soft steadiness of her words- it settled over him like his mom’s bowl of comfort soup.

Y/N padded to the cabinets, one foot still missing a sock. She moved with the ease that came with being in her own house, but there was a lightness to her movements now, as if his presence didn’t interrupt anything- like he belonged there for the moment. She boiled water in a worn kettle, the kind with chipped paint near the spout that had been in the family since before she was born. And she pulled out a box from the back of the shelf. The green tea cookies were a little crumbled but still perfectly good. She smiled to herself as she laid them out on a porcelain plate.

They settled on the floor of her kitchen like kids hiding from responsibility. She handed him a mismatched mug- his had a cat on it, tail curled into a heart. Hers was plain, chipped at the rim. The plate of cookies sat between them like a peace treaty.

Sunghoon took a bite, and the taste was exactly like he remembered- earthy and a little sweet, crumbly in the best way.

“I didn’t think you noticed,” he said after a long while, his voice low, careful.

Y/N looked at him, a slow blink. “I notice more than you think,” she said simply.

Sunghoon glanced down at his shoes, then back at her, unsure of what to make of it. He wondered what else she had noticed- but chose not to ask.

“So,” he began, instead. "You have a proper phobia of cockroaches?”

Y/N nodded, mid-chewing on the cookie. She swallowed abruptly. “Bugs in general,” she admitted. “The last time I saw a spider in the house, I fainted and my parents rushed me to the hospital.”

“You fainted?”

“Yeah,” she laughed like it wasn’t a big deal- like it was an old memory “It’s gotten better now, but I’m definitely still terrified.”

“I can tell,” Sunghoon nodded, a grin playing on his lips.

Y/N rolled her eyes, eyes drifting back to her mug. “I didn’t mean for you to come, by the way,” she admitted. “You really didn’t need to go out of your way to do this.”

“It’s not a problem, Y/N,” Sunghoon assured. “Why’d you call anyway?”

“I thought you’d give me emotional support and teach me how to chase down a cockroach.”

“Through the phone?” He laughed now, finally realising how childish the situation actually was.

“Laugh all you want,” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

They both looked down at the plate between them. The cookies were beginning to crumble at the edges.

“You haven’t come around to the diner in a while,” Sunghoon said after a beat- not accusatory, just staging an observation.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Y/N sighed. “I’ve been swamped with assignments.”

“Don’t need to apologise for that,” he said, shaking his head. 

“I missed it though,” she added, softer this time.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You should probably get back before Jake burns the place down.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon exhaled, glancing toward the door. “He’s probably trying to plate spaghetti like a Michelin chef.”

x. 

A few days later, on an early morning when the streets were still yawning and the sky hadn’t fully made up its mind about the sun, Y/N found herself tagging along with Sunghoon and Jake to the wet market. There was no real reason- just that she was free, and just that she could.

Sunghoon had mentioned wanting to experiment, to see if he could add a few new seafood dishes to the diner’s menu. That was the official reason. The real reason, perhaps, was simpler- it was nice having her there.

The market was already alive, a cacophony of voices and smells and sloshing water. Jake took the lead, animatedly picking fights with fishmongers over prices, freshness, or whether the catch was really caught that morning. Sunghoon followed a few steps behind, arms crossed and expression sharp, his eyes silently backing Jake’s words like punctuation marks.

Jake was mid-haggle with an elderly fishmonger about the size of a grouper when Sunghoon leaned toward Y/N and muttered, “he always starts a fight before 5am. It’s part of his warm-up routine.”

She stifled a laugh, then wrinkled her nose when a splash of fish water nearly hit her sandals. “Is it always this... intense?”

Sunghoon gave a faint, dry nod. “This is one of his better days.”

Eventually, Jake held up a glistening red snapper triumphantly like a knight with a sword. “Victory,” he declared, already halfway to the next stall. The old fishmonger chuckled, muttering something about these boys and their drama.

Sunghoon calmly handed over the money and shot a quick thanks before motioning for Y/N to follow.

Y/N trailed after them, half-awake, half-amused, her eyes darting between the two of them- between Jake’s loud dramatics and Sunghoon’s quiet intimidation. She didn’t fully understand the rhythm of their routine, but she liked being a part of it anyway.

They weaved through crates of shellfish, bundles of herbs, and stalls with dangling octopus tentacles. Jake struck up conversation with nearly every vendor- some clearly annoyed, some amused, all strangely fond of him.

Some vendors, familiar with the duo, greeted them with grins and playful jabs. A few even offered discounts without being asked- especially when they noticed Y/N in tow, standing a little behind, blinking curiously at a very lively basket of prawns.

“You like prawns and shrimp?” Sunghoon asked when he noticed her.

“Love,” she responded. 

“What about lobster?” He continued.

“Think about it everyday,” she smiled at him, innocent and childlike.

Seconds later, Sunghoon was signaling toward Jake with a subtle lift of his chin, eyes flicking toward a crate of lobsters sitting in a cooler nearby. Jake caught on immediately- of course he did- and ambled over to the stall, already rolling up his sleeves like it was about to be a full-blown negotiation.

“These aren’t just lobsters,” Jake said to the vendor, dramatic as ever. “These are practically celebrities. I feel like I should be asking them for autographs.”

The fishmonger laughed. “Only if you’re paying celebrity prices.”

Jake squinted at the man, then turned to glance briefly at Y/N and Sunghoon standing a few steps behind. “She likes lobster,” he said, pointing his thumb at Y/N. “You’re really gonna make me tell her we couldn’t get any?”

The vendor raised a brow, grinning. “She’s that special, huh?”

Jake didn't skip a beat. “Special enough for a discount.”

Y/N stifled a laugh behind her hand. Sunghoon just shook his head, arms crossed again, quietly watching Jake argue his way into a discount like he did it for sport.

In the end, Jake returned victorious, holding up the paper-wrapped package like it was a trophy. “Lobster secured,” he announced.

“For a good price?” Sunghoon asked.

Jake grinned, cocky. “For her, yeah.”

Sunghoon glanced at Y/N- she was still blinking at the lobsters, face lit up with delight- and then back at Jake. “She gets us cheaper prices, doesn’t she.”

“It’s like she’s a walking coupon.”

Eventually, with bags full of seafood, bunches of greens, and Jake still animatedly chatting to a vendor about how fish bones were the real flavor heroes, the trio made their way toward the bus stop.

The morning traffic had just begun to swell, but they caught an early local bus- half empty, smelling faintly of engine oil and coriander from someone’s breakfast bag. Jake hoisted the heavier crates into the luggage rack with ease, exchanging a cheerful “good morning” with the driver like they were old friends.

Y/N sat near the back, wedged between a bag of clams and a plastic tub of greens, her knees pulled slightly in to make space. Sunghoon took the seat beside her, holding a smaller insulated bag on his lap, while Jake stood near the front, holding onto the rail with one hand and using the other to keep talking to someone on the phone- probably his brother.

The bus rattled along, sunlight just beginning to filter through the dusty windows. Y/N swayed gently with the movement, occasionally bumping Sunghoon’s shoulder. He didn’t move away.

Sunghoon stared out the window, his expression as unreadable as ever- quiet, faintly furrowed, like he was measuring something in his mind he didn’t quite have words for. Not brooding, exactly- just present in a way that made him seem miles away.

Back at the diner, the morning unfolded in a quiet rhythm. The sun had finally risen, its light spilling gently through the fogged windows, catching dust motes in golden halos. Jake unloaded the groceries with theatrical groans- dramatic as always- while Sunghoon took the ingredients into the kitchen, his focus already sharpening.

Y/N had offered to help, but was quickly shooed away.

“You’re a guest,” Jake had said, wagging a finger at her.

“You’ll just get in the way,” Sunghoon added with less kindness, though the way his voice dropped suggested he didn’t mean it harshly.

So she sat on a stool by the counter, quietly watching.

Sunghoon began working on the lobster, his movements precise, economical. Just behind him, a bowl of shrimp was being deveined. Jake wandered in, scooped a small portion of shrimp into a tiny dish, and turned on his heel to head back out.

“What’s that for?” Sunghoon asked, not looking up.

“For the cat.”

“Don’t give her too much,” Sunghoon mumbled, slicing through the shell of the lobster. “Too much shrimp’s bad for them.”

Jake paused, raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

“I researched,” Sunghoon grumbled. And then, very deliberately, turned away- shoulders hunched slightly, like he could hide his face behind the curve of his neck.

Y/N bit back a smile.

Curious, she followed Jake to the front of the diner.

Out on the stoop, crouched beside the faded step, was a small orange cat- half asleep, tail flicking slowly. Jake knelt in front of her, placing the dish down and murmuring something Y/N couldn’t hear. The cat opened her eyes, then lazily leaned forward to sniff the shrimp.

“She likes Sunghoon more,” Jake explained, glancing over his shoulder. “He’s the one who found her, you know. Took her to the vet, made a whole bed for her in the storage room. Doesn’t talk about it though.”

Y/N crouched beside him, her fingers grazing the rough concrete as she stretched her hand out. The cat blinked up at her. And then, coolly, with that feline grace, nuzzled her head against the back of Y/N’s hand before turning toward the shrimp.

Y/N’s face lit up with something between surprise and wonder. Jake, still crouched, leaned back on his heels and gave her a grin.

“She likes you,” he said.

“Not as much as Sunghoon,” she replied softly.

Jake chuckled. “Don’t worry. That’s not a competition you want to win.”

Inside, behind the glass, Sunghoon paused in the middle of peeling garlic and glanced out- eyes lingering just long enough to catch the scene before ducking his head again.

By the time Jake and Y/N returned to the kitchen, the smells had bloomed- garlic, butter, a hint of chili, the sweetness of seafood carried gently in the steam rising from the stovetop. 

Sunghoon didn’t say much as he plated the dishes he made- three new ones he was considering for the menu.

First, Typhoon Shelter Shrimp- lightly battered prawns fried with garlic, chili, and crispy bits of breadcrumb, piled into a modest heap that still looked restaurant-worthy.

Next, Steamed Clams with Black Bean Sauce, served in a shallow bowl, the clams peeking open through a dark, aromatic glaze flecked with scallions and red pepper.

Then came Pan-fried Grouper Fillet- seared till golden and crisp on the edges, set atop a spoonful of soy-ginger sauce that glistened under the diner lights.

He worked in a quiet rhythm, focused and precise. Then, without warning, he reached for a fourth plate- larger than the others- and gently lowered two halves of a garlic butter poached lobster, its tail meat already split and fanned slightly apart, a bit of lemon zest caught the light.

Sunghoon didn’t glance up. “That’s for us to eat,” he said, placing the plate aside. “Not for the menu.”

Jake barked out a laugh. “Yeah, no way can we afford to put a lobster dish on the menu.”

Sunghoon shrugged modestly, but there was the faintest trace of color in his cheeks. “You said you think about lobster every day,” he muttered to her, not quite meeting her gaze, as he sat down beside her.

Jake pretended not to hear it and sat beside him, already reaching for chopsticks to taste the shrimp. “Okay, but this shrimp? We are putting this on the menu. I’ll fight you if you say no.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Y/N sat down with the lobster dish in front of her, quietly touched- and a little amused. “It’s so over-the-top for a random weekday.”

“It’s not random,” Sunghoon replied.

A week later, the typhoon shelter shrimp was added to the menu- not because Jake insisted. But because after the lobster, Y/N enjoyed the shrimp the most.

xi. 

“Guess who I just got off the phone with,” Jake walked into the shared bedroom, flicking his phone onto the middle table.

“Who?’ Sunghoon asked, eyes still stuck on the book he nestled in his lap.

“My dad,” Jake stated.

That got Sunghoon’s attention. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Jake plopped down on his bed, surprised by the lack of wrinkles on the sheets and messy laundry. Sunghoon had cleaned it up earlier, unable to have the sight of clutter. “He said business has been picking up again. Things seem good, apparently.”

“Oh,” Sunghoon’s gaze dropped, unable to look at Jake’s triumph. A low anxiety settled in his stomach, his muscles tensed. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said, and he meant it. But he wasn’t sure what the consequences of that would be.

“You’re worried about the diner now, aren’t you?”

Sunghoon and Jake were twenty-six now. They’d met at twenty-one- two strangers with miserable jobs and a few bills in their pockets- and somehow, five years later, they were still shoulder to shoulder.

They’d started the diner together, moved into a tiny rented flat above it, and never really left each other’s orbit. It was five years of waking up to the same alarms, sharing the same instant coffee, arguing about grocery budgets, crashing after shifts in the same room. They'd grown around each other like ivy- tight, inevitable, inseparable.

It wasn’t just closeness; it was muscle memory. The kind of bond where silence filled in the blanks and secrets barely had time to form. They never needed to say much to be understood. Some things stayed unspoken, sure, but even those things were known in that quiet, mutual way.

Over the years, they’d learned how to read each other better than the back of their own hands.

Sunghoon knew Jake got cranky when he was hungry, that he liked ketchup on his rice sometimes and got defensive about it, that he flicked his wrist when nervous and couldn’t keep still when something bothered him.

Jake knew that Sunghoon didn’t like being touched by new people, that a small smile from him meant more than full paragraphs, that when his brows dipped ever so slightly, it meant he was in his head again- thinking too hard, spiraling quietly.

“Your brows are drooping.”

Sunghoon tutted at him, turning his head to hide his expression. “What are you on about?”

Jake sighed and lifted himself off the bed, circling around the table to reach Sunghoon. He towered over him, which was odd. Sunghoon was the taller one between them. But as he looked at Jake now, curled into a corner of his bed, he felt small and weak- like the future wasn’t in his hands anymore.

“Listen,” Jake started, a firm hand placed on Sunghoon’s knee. “I’m not leaving the diner until you do, understand?”

Sunghoon leaned his head against the wall, eyes stubbornly fixated on his book. 

“I stuck with you while you sent money back home for your sister and you stuck with me when I was sending money back to my family,” Jake continued. “We’re in this together, man,” he patted his knee. “I’m not leaving you hanging.

Finally, Sunghoon turned to him, eyes narrowed, almost like he was holding sorrow. “I’m grateful for you, Jake,” he mumbled. The world felt foreign in his mouth- foreign to Jake’s ears. He didn’t say things like that- not often, not at all. But Jake didn’t poke fun at him for it. “I hope you know that.”

“I know,” Jake gave him a curt smile and settled at the edge of the bed, whatever spec was left beside Sunghoon’s legs.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“What is it?”

Sunghoon almost hesitated, afraid that it would ruin the moment. He licked his lips, tongue suddenly dry. The thought itself made him feel confused, light headed. “Do you like Y/N?”

Jake immediately scoffed. “I just told you my family’s making more money and that’s the question you ask?” He wasn’t offended. In fact, he had a teasing smile on his mouth, a light expression. But Sunghoon knew that it was his way of steering a conversation, of changing the topic.

“I’m being serious,” Sunghoon raised his voice. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Jake thought about it for a moment- Y/N. He couldn’t deny that her name always brought a pang to his chest- the good kind. The kind of feeling you get when your mother cooks your favourite food for dinner or the feeling you get when you realise you’re someone’s favourite person. He smiled every time just thinking about her- her shy gazes, the way she could banter with him, the way she helped him cheat in mahjong.

What exactly were they doing?

How could he even let this happen?

Despite everything he was starting to feel himself, Jake couldn’t ignore the way Sunghoon was around her. It was different- undeniably, unmistakably different. He was softer with her. Not in any dramatic or romantic way, not overtly, but in the small things.

Sunghoon, who usually kept people at arm’s length, who bristled at new conversations and avoided eye contact when he wasn’t in the mood- he welcomed her in. He smiled more, spoke first, ran across the neighbourhood with a tube of cockroach repellent because she called him in a panic. He listened to her, remembered things she said in passing, let his guard down in ways Jake had rarely seen, even after five years of friendship.

Jake watched it all from the sidelines- quietly, almost respectfully- but it gnawed at him. Jake knew his friend. And he knew this girl made him happy- that this wasn’t just kindness. It was carefulness.

“I don’t know,” Jake finally said, not knowing how to articulate his thoughts. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I really don't- she’s-,” he sucked in a breath. “The mahjong, the random trips, just her presence. I don’t know what it’s doing to me.”

“You do,” Sunghoon insisted. “You’re just denying it.”

“I can say the same for you.”

Sunghoon looked away now. “I guess, I don’t know either,” he admitted and let a moment of silence pass by them. “It’s really up to her now, isn’t it?”

Jake hung his head low, picking at his nails. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he sighed- and suddenly, his eyes were on Sunghoon again, hand on his knee. “But I hope you know- whatever happens-”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon didn’t need him to finish the sentence. He just knew. And the silent acknowledgement between them was good enough.

xii. 

Sunghoon was getting good at mahjong- his moves were more confident now, his hands steady as he arranged his tiles. He wasn’t winning every round, but he was no longer the tentative beginner he had been a few weeks ago. The grandmas had started nodding in approval, their teasing turning into genuine respect.

Jake, on the other hand, was still struggling. Every turn he made was accompanied by an exaggerated sigh or a panicked glance toward Y/N. More often than not, he leaned closer to her, whispering questions like, “Wait, is this one good?” or “Do I throw this? Or is that, like, a war crime in mahjong?”

Y/N tried to keep a straight face, whispering back in between her own turns, giving him subtle clues without outright cheating. But even then, Jake's face would scrunch in concentration like he was defusing a bomb, only to make a hilariously bad move and groan dramatically when the grandmas cackled.

“Maybe you’re just not built for this,” Sunghoon said once, eyeing Jake’s chaotic tiles.

Jake shot him a glare. “Sorry I didn’t emerge from the womb with mahjong instincts like you.”

It was an empty afternoon again, one where their usual customers were either busy with work or had already come and gone. It was one of those evenings where Sunghoon and Jake could put their diner duties aside and tend to a game of mahjong. And this time, instead of macaroni in broth, they had the new prawns that had been added to the menu.

Sunghoon won that round- against Jake and two grandmas.

“Again?” Jake groaned, slumping back in his chair. “That’s your third win in a row. This is rigged.”

One of the grandmas clicked her tongue. “It’s not rigged, boy. He’s just better than you.”

Jake threw his hands up. “Traitors, all of you.”

Sunghoon only smirked, stacking his tiles neatly while the grandmas reshuffled theirs with seasoned ease. Y/N returned a phone call just in time to catch Jake pouting. 

“Another loss?” She guessed, setting down a fresh pot of tea.

“He cheats,” Jake muttered, pointing at Sunghoon.

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Tell them how you discarded a winning tile. Again.”

“I was distracted,” Jake defended. “You were humming. Who hums while playing mahjong?”

“I do,” Sunghoon replied easily, glancing up at Y/N.

She laughed and settled next to Jake, stealing a warm rice cracker from one of the side bowls. “Maybe humming is your power move.”

“No,” Jake said, pushing the cracker bowl toward her. “His power move is being unreasonably good at everything.”

Sunghoon shrugged, like he couldn’t be blamed for his talents. “You’ll get there eventually.”

Jake didn’t reply to that- he just looked at Sunghoon for a moment, then turned away, his smile tight around the edges.

Y/N broke the moment by asking, “One more round?”

“Believe me, I want to,’ Sunghoon grinned, watching Jake roll his eyes. “But we really need to get that cooker fixed.”

“Right, that was today,” Jake grumbled, already leaving his chair to untie his apron. 

The grandmas immediately started groaning in protest.

“You can’t leave on a winning streak,” one of them complained, dramatically slapping a tile down.

“Children these days,” the other muttered. “No sense of honour.”

Jake put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright! We’ll make it up to you next time. Promise.”

“You said that last week,” the first grandma narrowed her eyes.

“That time I meant it less,” Jake said as he backed away toward the kitchen, “this time I mean it more.”

Y/N turned to Sunghoon, eyebrows raised. “What happened to the cooker?”

“It started sparking,” he said plainly, gathering up the tea cups. “I turned it off before it blew up. Jake panicked and tried to throw salt at it,” he added under his breath.

“I panicked like a normal person!” Jake called from the back.

Y/N laughed. “That explains why everything tasted weird yesterday.”

Sunghoon paused, then looked at her deadpan. “That was Jake’s cooking.”

A crash echoed from the kitchen. “I heard that!”

Y/N grinned as she stood up to help stack the mahjong tiles. “Where are you getting it fixed?”

“Place a few streets over. Some guy Jake knows,” Sunghoon said, slipping into his shoes near the door. “Are you free? You should come?.”

Y/N looked down at her phone, then at the door. “I am.”

Jake poked his head out. “We’ll get snacks after.”

“Sold,” she smiled, grabbing her jacket.

They walked to the market, the broken cooker tucked under Jake’s arm like some odd, metallic baby. He led the way with a confidence that only came from knowing every shortcut and side street in this part of town, throwing back quick comments without ever breaking his stride.

“Left here,” he called over his shoulder. “The guy’s stall is just past the tea shop that smells like socks.”

Sunghoon wrinkled his nose. “That’s specific.”

“You’ll smell it when we get there,” Jake said cheerfully.

Y/N walked in the middle, quietly entertained, her gaze darting between the signs and the noisy carts rattling past them. The morning air had settled into a pleasant kind of warmth- sunlight catching on wet pavement, leftover from a brief drizzle. It smelled like vegetables, vinegar, and fish. 

“You sure this guy’s legit?” Sunghoon asked, eyeing the wires poking out of the cooker.

Jake scoffed. “He fixed our microwave last year. It hasn’t exploded once.”

“That’s your bar for success?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake grinned. “Low expectations, low disappointments.”

Sunghoon shook his head but didn’t argue. He just matched his pace with hers, occasionally nudging her away from puddles she didn’t notice.

They reached the stall after one wrong turn and a minor argument about directions. The cooker was handed off, and the old man behind the counter promised to “have it breathing like a newborn” by sundown.

With time to kill, the trio ducked into a nearby street vendor alley, following the scent of fried dough and something sweet. Jake immediately beelined toward skewers; Y/N lingered at a cart selling mango sago; and Sunghoon stood at a distance, scanning both of them with that same quiet attentiveness he always wore when no one was watching.

Jake returned with a stick in each hand, waving one at her.

“It’s fried fish cake. Try it.”

She took a bite and made a face. “It tastes like regret.”

Jake laughed so hard he nearly dropped his own.

“I can make them better,” Sunghoon chuckled under his breath and handed her a small cup of chilled soy milk he’d picked up. “You’ll need this.”

As the three of them leaned against a low wall near the alley exit, chewing and sipping and laughing at nothing in particular, there was a pause- a moment soft and slow. A lull in the city’s noise, the kind that only comes when the company is easy and the day has no demands.

Y/N spoke first. “Do you guys ever get sick of spending every day together?”

Sunghoon blinked. Jake turned toward her. “Nope,” Jake said. “He annoys me less than most people.”

Sunghoon shrugged. “It’s been five years. Too late to start hating each other now.”

Y/N smiled. “You two are weirdly wholesome.”

Jake looked over at Sunghoon and raised an eyebrow. “Weirdly?”

Sunghoon just sipped his drink, not denying it, remembering the previous night’s conversation.

xiii. 

Y/N was nervous to visit their apartment.

It wasn’t because she didn’t want to go- she did, very much. It was just… strange. Strange to be friends with people like them. Jake and Sunghoon were twenty-six. They’d lived through things she hadn’t yet touched. They had bills and taxes and lived away from home. They ran a business. They had a cat that visited their diner every morning and a complicated relationship with a fish named Clementine.

Y/N, by contrast, was twenty. Barely. One of those overachieving kids who had done everything right- grades, clubs, national-level sport that now made her knees click, university courses that looked impressive on paper but left her exhausted. On most days, she still asked her mom where the scissors were.

She told her parents she was going to meet a college friend that afternoon. Which wasn’t a lie, not exactly. Just not the whole truth. She didn’t know how to explain her friendship with Jake and Sunghoon- their diner, their banter, the quiet comfort of peeling garlic at the counter while they bickered about radio stations.

So she didn’t. She just snuck out quietly, like she was doing something wrong, and met them at the corner where they’d said they’d be.

Now, she was knocking at their door.

Sunghoon opened the door, his usual calm composure softening into something warmer when he saw her- a glint in his eyes, a small toothy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Behind him, Jake was frantically sweeping the floor. It wasn’t an unusual sight. He’d done that plenty of times in the diner- he was the one who took care of it after all- but here, in the cozy mess of their home, it looked a little more chaotic.

Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, amused. “I know he keeps the diner polished, but at home? He’s the messiest person I know.”

Jake straightened, tossing the broom aside with dramatic flair. “You’re just a clean freak. I’m normal.”

“Normal is debatable,” Sunghoon said, already stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N crossed the threshold slowly, curiosity bubbling beneath her nerves.

Their apartment was nothing like hers.

It was small- the kind of small that made everything feel close, almost intimate. The hall barely fit three people comfortably, and it connected directly to the open kitchen, where mismatched mugs hung on a rail and bags of flour were stacked in the corner like a permanent fixture. She caught a glimpse of the single bedroom beyond, where two beds sat neatly divided down the middle, each with a different colored blanket. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, light spilling out onto the floor tiles.

Jake noticed her glance and beamed. “I redid the whole thing myself. The bathroom, I mean. Best construction work of my life.”

Sunghoon cooked lunch for them that day- something quick but flavorful, the way he always did. Lately, it felt like all their hangouts revolved around food. Which, honestly, made sense. Jake and Sunghoon owned a diner. It was kind of their whole thing.

But Y/N didn’t mind. In fact, she loved it. She liked the rhythm of their lives, the casual way they threw ingredients together, the jokes tossed across the kitchen like confetti. She liked how nothing about them felt routine, even when it technically was. Around them, she didn’t feel like a cog in a machine, or like the overachieving kid who peaked too early. Her life wasn’t mundane anymore. Around them, she felt… interesting.

While Sunghoon moved around the kitchen with quiet focus, sleeves rolled up, Jake pulled a chair for her near the fish tank- a big, square glass box wedged beside a cluttered shelf and a sunlit window. Inside, four goldfish swam in lazy loops, their scales flashing gold and white in the water’s filtered light.

Y/N leaned closer, resting her chin on her palm. “Did you name them?”

“Nope,” Jake said, popping a cracker in his mouth. “They’re all called Clementine.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Yeah,” he nodded like this was the most normal thing in the world. “Every time one dies, we replace it and call the new one Clementine. At this point we’ve been through at least... seven? Eight? So now, they’re just all Clementine.”

Y/N burst into giggles, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s efficient,” Jake said, smug. “We don’t get emotionally attached, and we don’t have to remember names. Win-win.”

“Sunghoon, did you agree to this?” she called out.

From the stove, Sunghoon replied without turning. “I tried to name one Junebug once. He changed it back to Clementine in twenty-four hours.”

Jake grinned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s tradition.”

“So what’s for lunch?” Y/N asked, leaning forward on the table, the light from the window catching in her hair.

“You’ll see,” Sunghoon said coolly, eyes still trained on the stove as he added something into a sizzling pan.

Jake, without a word, got up and walked over to the low drawer under their small TV. He crouched, rummaged for a second, then returned with a battered deck of cards in hand. With a practiced flick, he started shuffling them, the soft snap of the cards punctuating the calm.

“Do you know how to play poker?” Jake asked, looking at Y/N with that glint of challenge he always wore before a game.

Y/N flushed and shook her head. “Nope.”

Jake gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “You know mahjong... but not poker?”

“It’s embarrassing, I know!” Y/N cried, laughing. “I’ve spent so much time playing with those damn tiles that I never got around to the cards.”

“Wow,” Sunghoon called over his shoulder. “What even got you into mahjong?”

“It’s like a thing in my family,” she said with a shrug. “All my aunts and uncles are obsessed. I basically had no choice. It was either learn or be exiled from game nights.”

Jake began dealing out three neat piles of cards onto the table. “Well,” he said, cracking his knuckles, “you’ve taught us mahjong. Now it’s time we return the favor.”

“Get ready to lose,” Sunghoon added, placing a lid over the simmering pot and finally joining them at the table. He smelled faintly of garlic and soy.

Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re both very confident for people who nearly cried during a tile draw last week.”

Jake raised his hand. “That was Sunghoon.”

“I did not cry,” Sunghoon said flatly.

“You almost did.”

“Chopped onions were on the table.”

“There were no onions,” Jake said.

“There were onions in my heart,” Sunghoon replied.

Y/N snorted, half-folding in on herself with laughter as Jake passed her her hand of cards.

Sunghoon returned from the kitchen, balancing three mismatched plates in his hands. He set them down one by one, the warm aroma immediately curling into the air like an embrace.

It was a simple lunch- egg fried rice with just the right amount of sesame oil, pan-seared tofu with a crisp glaze, and stir-fried greens. But what made Y/N pause, just for a second, was that it was somehow all her favorites. Things she’d mentioned offhandedly before, little details she hadn’t realized they’d remembered.

She looked up. Sunghoon was already settling into his seat, acting like it wasn’t a big deal.

Jake clapped once, oblivious. “Okay, we eat and play. Ultimate multitasking.”

“I can’t learn a new game and chew at the same time,” Y/N protested, laughing.

Jake winked. “Sure you can. That brain of yours? Gifted.”

Sunghoon reached for the cards. “We’ll go slow. I’ll talk you through it.”

They began.

Jake narrated with too much enthusiasm, while Sunghoon clarified things with quiet patience. Y/N listened, nodded, and still somehow managed to mess up the first round.

“Wait, I thought two queens was good,” she said, frowning at her hand.

“It is,” Jake said, “but not if I have three kings.”

“Oh.”

Sunghoon slid her a napkin. “You’re doing fine.”

Y/N laughed as she took a bite of tofu. It was perfectly crisp, not too salty- exactly how she liked it. She didn’t say anything, but she met Sunghoon’s eyes for a moment across the table, and he gave her a small, barely-there smile before looking back down at his hand of cards.

Something about that smile made her chest feel tight, but not in a bad way.

They kept playing- Jake competitive, Y/N increasingly flustered, Sunghoon quietly amused. The game was half-played, half-taught, interrupted constantly by someone reaching for rice or teasing someone else.

Somewhere between losing her third hand and trying to sneak a peek at Jake’s cards, Y/N gave up and leaned back with a groan. “Okay, wait. Pause. Can we talk for a second? You can’t just keep destroying me in poker without a little storytelling.”

Jake raised a brow but didn’t stop shuffling. “Are you trying to distract us so you can win?”

“Maybe,” she grinned. “But seriously- how did you two end up opening a diner?”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his cards. “Long story.”

“We were both broke, had struggling families, and hated our jobs,” Jake explained. “We worked in the same restaurant- he was a chef and I was there for some reconstruction work. We met one night by chance and just-”

“Quit,”  Sunghoon finished his sentence. “We quit within a week, rented that space out and opened the diner. spent all our savings on it.”

“And we're doing much better now, obviously,” Jake said. “The diner is doing so well.”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled. “It's my favourite restaurant.”

“You’re lying,” Sunghoon mumbled again, not looking up from his cards.

It wasn’t accusation- just disbelief, soft around the edges. He couldn’t quite picture it, not when Y/N probably ate at places with white tablecloths and waiters in pressed shirts. The kind of restaurants with velvet cushions instead of plain wooden chairs, ambient jazz instead of a jukebox in the corner. Not… their place- their little diner with its flickering sign and chipped coffee mugs.

But when Y/N leaned forward, her smile calm and certain, something about it quieted that disbelief. “I’m really not,” she said.

The game began to dissolve somewhere around the fifth round. Y/N stared down at her cards, utterly lost, as Jake tried (and failed) to keep a straight face while explaining the rules for the third time.

“I give up,” she groaned, tossing the cards down in mock defeat. “This is too much. I’m never going to get it.”

Sunghoon chuckled softly but didn’t say anything. He’d already won the last two rounds without even trying. Now he was leaning back, sipping the last of his tea, eyes watching the cards like they still had something to say.

Jake tapped the table. “Alright, alright. Poker night is officially over.”

“Thank God,” Y/N muttered.

There was a pause. Then Jake stood up, brushing crumbs from his jeans. “Wanna see Sunghoon’s stash of old books?”

Sunghoon raised a brow but didn’t object. He just let out a soft exhale and nodded once. “Go ahead. It’s under my bed.”

Jake grinned, already halfway to the bedroom. Y/N followed him, not quite sure what to expect.

Their bedroom was simple. Two twin beds, pushed against opposite walls, with a narrow dresser squeezed in between. The room smelled faintly of citrus and something smoky- like old wood or incense. Jake knelt down and tugged at the edge of one of the beds before dragging out two large cardboard boxes, the sides worn soft with use.

“Behold,” he announced dramatically, “the Dragon’s Hoard.”

“Jake, don’t call it that,” Sunghoon called from the table, his voice muffled but amused.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor as Jake opened one of the boxes. Inside were books of all sizes- hardbound, leather-bound, dog-eared paperbacks. Some were stacked with scraps of tissue between the pages, others had post-its jutting out like flags.

She reached in slowly, reverent. The first thing her fingers touched was a thin volume of poems- its cover pale blue, the title fading into silver scrollwork. She opened it. Inside, the pages were covered in Sunghoon’s neat handwriting- translations, notes, small circles around particular lines.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered.

Jake smiled. “He found one at a flea market in Busan. Swears it changed his life.”

Y/N gently lifted another- a weathered book of Korean folktales, the cover cracked and stained from time. Beneath it, a French novel, a Japanese ghost story collection, a hand-sewn booklet of traditional recipes.

“How does he even find these?” She asked.

Jake shrugged. “He has a radar for them. Even on our busiest days, he’ll walk past a pile of trash and somehow come back with a book worth reading.”

Y/N chuckled, then hesitated. “Why does he keep them here? Why not on a shelf?”

“We kinda don’t have space for a shelf,” Jake paused, sitting on the bed. “But he says if he sees them every day, he gets distracted. He wants to forget about them for a while. Let them surprise him again when he opens the box.”

“That’s…” She trailed off, touched in a way she couldn’t name.

Sunghoon had been standing at the frame of the door, silent and making himself invisible. The pair didn’t realise he was there. 

“You can borrow some if you want,” Sunghoon offered. 

Y/N, startled, turned back to look at him. “I couldn’t… are you sure?”

“You’ll take care of them.”

xiv. 

Y/N had a set of ceramic plates that she liked to collect. She hadn’t told anyone about it- the confession always made her feel a little old. But she’d been collecting for a while now, and it was easy, considering all the markets around her had at least one stall that sold ceramic items.

That morning, before going to the diner to play mahjong with the grandmas, she realized that one of the plates had broken. Honestly, it wasn’t that deep- but it seemed to bother her more than she liked. The frustration seeped into her game, clouded her focus, and tugged at her expression. Everyone could tell she was off.

“What’s wrong, honey?” One of the grandmas asked, pausing mid-turn.

“Oh, nothing,” Y/N sighed, her fingers fidgeting with one of the mahjong tiles.

The conversation made both Sunghoon and Jake stop in their tracks- Jake paused mid-wipe, rag in hand, while Sunghoon froze over the chopping board, green onions half-sliced. They wouldn’t say they were eavesdropping- they knew they were listening- but it didn’t feel like they were supposed to be part of the conversation.

“I have this plate that I really liked, and it cracked this morning,” Y/N explained. “Like, straight into three big pieces. Just broke.”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s what’s bothering you?” Another grandma chuckled, rubbing her back in gentle comfort.

“It’s stupid,” Y/N laughed softly at herself and tried to get back to the game.

“Jake knows how to fix plates,” Sunghoon blurted out.

The group turned- first to look at Sunghoon in the kitchen, then to Jake leaning casually against a table nearby.

Jake had his arms crossed. He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s just glue and some paint. I’ve fixed a few in the restaurant.”

Y/N looked down at her plate again, realizing exactly what he was talking about- the dish in front of her had faint cracks near the rim, sealed with glue and tinted to blend in.

“I could help?” Jake offered casually.

Without waiting for an answer, he disappeared into the kitchen. The clatter of drawers opening and closing echoed faintly, and moments later he returned, holding up a familiar tube of glue like a tiny trophy.

He gave her a small grin. “Just say the word.”

A long walk later, Jake was in Y/N’s apartment, and it was exactly as Sunghoon had described it.

“Very Y/N,” Sunghoon had said once, and Jake hadn’t known what that meant until now.

It was quiet- not sterile, but composed. Like the kind of place where every object had a story, every corner had been arranged with quiet care. Ceramic bowls sat neatly on a shelf in the dining nook. A bookshelf leaned against the wall, not overflowing but selective. Plants, small ones, lined the windowsill like they belonged there.

Jake stood just inside the living room, the broken plate wrapped in cloth in his hands, careful not to track any dust in from outside.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” Y/N said, although there was no mess to be seen. She shut the front door behind him quickly and quietly. “My parents are still at work. You’ve got like, an hour.”

Jake grinned, whispering in mock secrecy. “Wow. So this is a covert mission.”

“You’re literally fixing a plate,” she rolled her eyes, trying to keep her voice low. “Let’s go to the dining table. It’s better lit there.”

Jake followed, placing the wrapped plate gently down. “Still can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone you collect ceramics.”

She pulled out chairs for both of them. “Because it sounds weird and delicate and obsessive. I’m already enough of a nerd.”

“I think it’s kinda cute,” he said, unwrapping the broken pieces. 

They sat beside each other, knees slightly touching. Neither were bothered by it, neither seemed to care. Jake brought out the small tube of glue and a brush from the pocket of jeans. Y/N watched as he carefully arranged the broken pieces on the table. His movements were slow and calculated. For someone so chaotic most of the time, he was strangely calm now.

“Do you do this often?” She asked.

“Sunghoon drops things constantly. We have a bunch of glued-together dishes at the diner. But I’ve gotten better at hiding the cracks.”

Y/N reached out to turn one piece gently, aligning it with another. “Don’t hide them.”

He paused. “No?”

She shook her head. “I kinda like the cracks.”

Jake looked at her- like, really looked at her. Her brow was furrowed just slightly, eyes focused on the jagged edges, like she cared about the object not just as a plate, but as something worth saving. It made something tug in his chest.

“Alright then,” he murmured. “We’ll keep the cracks.”

They worked in silence for a while, fitting the three pieces back together like a little puzzle. Y/N held them steady as Jake applied the glue, his fingers brushing hers a few times- warm, gentle, fleeting. Once it was secure, he pulled out a small tube of gold paint.

“What’s that?”

“Kintsugi style,” he said. “Fixing the cracks with gold. Makes it prettier. I saw it in some article and started doing it at the diner.”

Y/N watched in quiet fascination as he used a thin brush to trace the fault lines in the ceramic with gold. It gleamed, soft and subtle, catching the light from the window.

“There,” Jake leaned back slightly, admiring the plate between them. “Better?”

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N whispered.

Her fingers hovered just above the gold-lined cracks, not quite touching the surface. Something about the way the gold shimmered softly in the afternoon light made the plate feel even more precious now- like its story had only just begun. She looked up, about to say something else, but stopped when she realized Jake hadn’t looked away.

He was watching her.

Not like how someone watches a friend, or even with his usual teasing curiosity- but quietly, almost searching. His eyes softened as they met hers, and suddenly, it was like the space between them had shrunk to nothing. They hadn’t moved- but they were closer.

The moment pressed in, slow and quiet.

Jake’s arm was still on the table, elbow bent, fingers smeared faintly with gold paint. Y/N’s hand rested near his, close enough that the backs of their fingers brushed without meaning to. Neither of them pulled away.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, just barely. Her heart fluttered wildly, and she knew- she just knew- that he could hear it in the silence between them.

She didn’t know who leaned in first. Maybe no one had, maybe it was just gravity, pulling them together the way it always did when people sat a little too close and looked a little too long.

Jake’s eyes flickered down to her lips, then back up. Just once.

She didn’t speak. Neither did he.

Their faces were inches apart now. Her gaze had dropped to his mouth without realizing it, and when she met his eyes again, there was something unreadable there- an emotion suspended between impulse and restraint.

Her lips parted slightly.

Jake moved- just a breath forward.

And then he pulled back.

It was slow, intentional. His eyes didn’t leave hers until the distance returned, enough to break the spell. And then, of course, he smiled. That crooked, half-sincere, half-distracting Jake smile.

“I should get back to the diner,” he said, voice soft but steady.

Y/N blinked, a beat too late. The spell cracked. “Right,” she said quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”

Jake stood up, running a hand through his hair as if trying to shake something off. He stuffed the glue and brush back into his back pocket with practiced ease, like he hadn’t just pulled away from something almost fragile.

Y/N remained seated, watching him move around the room, suddenly unsure of where to look. Her chest still felt tight- not painfully so, just… alert. Like she’d been holding something too close to the edge.

Jake slung his bag over his shoulder and turned toward her, pausing by the doorway. His eyes found hers again, gentler now, more familiar.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” he said. “And trusting me with your cracked plate.”

She gave a small smile. “No. Thanks for fixing it.”

Jake grinned. “Anytime, darling.”

Then he was gone, slipping out the door like he hadn’t almost kissed her- like he hadn’t just left a quiet storm behind.

xv. 

Y/N came to the diner that evening just like she always did. The neon sign buzzed quietly above the doorway, casting a soft pink glow over the sidewalk. The cat- a sleepy little thing who’d claimed the entrance as her own- was curled up just beside the door. Y/N paused for a second, crouched to scratch gently behind her ear, then stood and slipped inside. The air was warm, carrying the familiar scent of broth and soya sauce, and the gentle hum of clinking cutlery filled the space like usual.

"Morning," Jake grinned, tossing her a wink.

Y/N returned the smile. 

And Jake went back to talking to Sunghoon, laughing about something she didn’t catch. He waved when he saw her, casual and easy. Sunghoon clearly didn’t know about what had happened- about what hadn’t happened.

And perhaps he didn’t need to know. Perhaps there truly was nothing there to know. Over the night, Y/N had convinced herself that nothing had happened- that she was too in her head.

They played Mahjong that night like they always did. The grandmas were already seated at their usual table, shuffling tiles with practiced ease. Y/N joined them with a familiar smile, slipping into her seat as if nothing had changed. If anyone noticed her slightly quieter demeanor, they didn’t say anything.

Jake was the same- animated, teasing, losing every single round with exaggerated groans and theatrical sighs. Sunghoon won a round when Y/N stepped away to refill her tea, and the grandmas joked that it was only because she wasn’t playing.

Everything, on the surface, was normal.

By the time the grandmas started gathering their things, the sky had dipped into a deeper blue, and the diner had emptied of customers. The soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen was the only other sound in the quiet space.

Jake dried his hands on a towel and checked his phone. “Shit, I have to go. That hardware guy just texted- he closes in fifteen and he’s holding that sink part for me.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair, tossing a wave toward Y/N. “I’ll be back in, like, twenty minutes.”

Y/N nodded. “Don’t rush.”

Then it was just her and Sunghoon.

Sunghoon looked at her from across the table.

“Want to keep playing?” He asked, already reaching for the tiles.

Y/N gave a small smile. “Sure.”

They played slowly at first. No banter, no distractions- just the soft click of tiles on the table and the low murmur of their voices calling out suits. The silence wasn’t awkward, though. It was focused, easy, and in some odd way, comforting. Outside, the sky had turned the color of steel.

A few moves in- it started to rain.

At first, it was gentle- a steady pattering against the diner windows. But soon, it grew louder, heavier. Fat drops streaked across the glass, turning the neon glow from the sign into a pinkish blur.

Sunghoon glanced up from his hand and let out a small laugh. “Of course it’s raining.”

Y/N turned to look outside. “Of course.”

His phone buzzed on the table. He checked it, then held it out for her to see.

Jake: Took shelter in that garage down the street. Raining too hard to walk. I’ll go straight home from here.

Sunghoon pocketed his phone. “Guess it’s just us.”

Y/N gave a noncommittal hum and started shuffling the tiles again.

“Your parents won’t get worried?” He asked.

She shook her head. “They’re not home,” she gave him a soft smile.

They’d been playing for what felt like hours- time stretching long and slow the way it does when there’s nowhere else to be. The diner was still wrapped in rainlight and quiet, the kind of quiet that settles deep into your bones. Outside, the world was all wet pavement and streaked windows. Inside, the Mahjong tiles whispered across the table, and somewhere in the corner, the cat stretched, tail twitching in sleep.

“You’re cheating again,” Sunghoon said suddenly, voice low but edged with amusement. He didn’t look up right away, just tilted his head toward her tiles, eyes flicking over the suspiciously good hand she was building.

Y/N glanced at him through her lashes. “I’m just good, Sunghoon. Accept defeat.”

He chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced down at his own hand, pretending to study it, but his fingers stayed still on the tiles.

The rain outside pressed harder against the windows, beads of water tracking down the glass like slow-moving tears. The neon diner sign was little more than a hazy smear now- pink and gold rippling across puddles. The lights inside buzzed softly overhead.

“You know,” Sunghoon said, still not looking at her, “I used to think I liked the quiet.”

Y/N stilled, mahjong tiles stuck between her fingers. She didn’t interrupt- just watched and waited.

“Before you showed up, this place was quiet in a way that felt... right. Not good, not bad. Just what it was. Like breathing. Or peeling wallpaper. Something that doesn’t ask for attention.”

She tilted her head, eyes softening. He still wasn’t looking at her.

“And then you came in.” He finally raised his gaze- not sharp, not teasing. He looked steady and sincere, like everything in his life had built up to this moment. “With your laugh that made the Mahjong grandmas forget it was their turn, your ease, your kindness. I don’t even know what you did but you changed everything,” he smiled, barely- the kind that cracked at the corners but didn’t last long. “And it stopped being quiet. And I didn’t want it back.”

Her fingers lingered on a tile she hadn’t yet played. The cat, curled up beneath a booth nearby, stirred slightly, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said. “When I should’ve. I told myself it’d pass. That you’d get bored eventually. With the udon. The broken tables. The smoke. With us,” he swallowed, like the words sat thick in his throat. “But you didn’t leave. And I kept not saying anything. And now…”

A beat. The sound of distant thunder, low and slow.

“I don’t need you to love me back, Y/N,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I just needed you to know I do.”

He looked down, finally breaking eye contact. He reached forward, picked up a tile like nothing had shifted- like the weight of what he’d said didn’t sit heavy between them now.

Then he placed it down gently.

“Your move.”

xvi. 

The thing about Sunghoon was that he was always normal.

He could lose a limb and still wake up at 6:30, make rice the same way, fold the same tea towels, and sweep the front of the diner like the earth hadn’t shifted beneath his feet. He was built for composure- for endurance- the kind of person who swallowed chaos like pills with water and never spoke of the side effects. Even when his world cracked, he would smooth over the edges and carry on.

So, in the days that followed, Sunghoon treated Y/N exactly the same.

Same half-smile when she walked in. Same deadpan sarcasm when she dropped a Mahjong tile. Same way he slid a steaming bowl of soup across the counter and said “too salty today. Don’t complain.”

No lingering glances. No awkward silences. No change in tone, no shift in air.

It should have been comforting- familiar, even. But to Y/N, it felt like standing in a room where someone had painted over the walls in the exact same shade, except one spot hadn’t dried, and you couldn’t stop noticing it.

She didn’t bring it up. Neither did he.

Jake didn’t seem to notice anything was off. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t say anything either- a theme, it seemed, between the three of them.

The Mahjong games resumed. The grandmas teased, the udon simmered, and the diner breathed in its usual rhythm.

But Y/N couldn’t quite get her own rhythm back.

She wasn’t cold with Sunghoon. She wasn’t avoiding him. She just didn’t know what to do with the space he’d created between them- that strange invisible line he’d drawn and then walked away from like it didn’t exist.

And maybe that was the part that stuck with her the most.

He had told her he loved her- and then went right back to washing dishes like it meant nothing.

Like it was a Tuesday. Like she was just another girl who came in for soup and Mahjong.

It was the weekend of the Mid-Autumn Festival. The neon diner sign stayed off for once, its usual greenish glow swallowed by the soft, flickering lantern light that spilled through the streets.

They had planned it a week ago- Sunghoon, Jake, and Y/N- to spend the evening at the local carnival just a few streets away. The kind of event strung together by plastic booths, cheap music, roasted chestnuts, and paper lanterns that hung overhead like constellations.

Y/N stood near the corner of the intersection, half-watching the festival lights blur through the fogged street lamps, when she saw Jake approaching alone, she got concerned. 

For a moment, a quiet panic settled in- the kind that bloomed without warning. Was this Sunghoon’s way of pulling away? Of singling her out after what he had said? Maybe this was how things would start to shift- subtly, awkwardly- until the warmth between them curdled into something unfamiliar. She hadn’t expected it to sting like this.

She blinked, brows pulling together. “Where’s Sunghoon?”

Jake shrugged, already a few steps away from her. “Fever. Again. Happens every year around this time. He always pretends it won’t, and then he crashes like clockwork.”

Y/N frowned, concern flickering across her features.

Jake waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. I’ve spent every Mid-Autumn either dragging him around or stuck inside making him soup. This time,” he said, flashing her a grin, “I actually get to go with someone who won’t cough on me the whole night.”

Y/N’s eyes softened just as he reached her. And for a second, Jake just looked at her, examined her. His smile shifted from playful to something quieter, more genuine.

“You look incredible, by the way,” he said. “The qipao suits you.”

She smoothed down the side of her dress, suddenly aware of how snug the fabric felt. “Thank you.”

“Red’s your favorite color, isn’t it?”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “…Yeah.”

They walked side by side down the narrow street, the buzz of music growing louder, blending with the rustle of leaves and the shouts of children chasing each other between stalls. The festival had swallowed the neighborhood whole- lanterns strung like stars across the rooftops, booths selling everything from fried dumplings to rabbit-shaped buns, the air thick with sweet and savory smoke.

Jake bought roasted chestnuts and passed her a warm paper packet. She took one, let it rest in her palm before cracking it open.

“You always this generous with your snacks?” She asked.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Only for people who don’t mock me at Mahjong.”

She grinned. “So never?”

They moved from stall to stall with no real direction, the rhythm of the carnival pulling them along like a tide. Jake bought her more snacks, pointed out the worst-dressed lanterns, and cracked jokes at every booth. He didn’t hesitate to reach for skewers, barter with vendors over silly prices, or shove her gently toward the candied hawthorn stand when she hesitated.

When they passed a game booth- the kind with flashing lights, plastic hammers, and impossible odds - Y/N began to move past it without thinking. But Jake stopped.

“Oho,” he said, eyes lighting up. “These are my thing.”

She gave him a skeptical glance. “Didn’t you just lose miserably at the ring toss?”

Jake scoffed. “That’s a scam. This,” he gestured at the game setup, “is skill. I am built for this.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” he grinned. “Pick a prize.”

The booth was lined with prizes- neon frogs, cartoon ducks, little plush radishes with blushing faces, and at the center- a fat round cat wearing a red scarf.

Y/N raised a brow at the cat. “I like her.”

Jake nodded enthusiastically. “And you’ll have it.”

He handed over the tokens to the vendor, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his knuckles like a man preparing for battle. The music started, lights began to blink- quick and erratic- and Jake moved with speed and precision, hitting the right sequence with an ease that almost made it look choreographed.

The machine let out a cheerful jingle. Jackpot.

He shot her a smug smile. “Told you.”

The vendor, unamused but efficient, handed him the cat. Jake turned to Y/N and placed it gently in her arms with a mock ceremony. “For my lady.”

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, trying not to smile too wide.

When they reached the lantern-painting booth, Jake slowed his pace.

The space was tucked into a quieter bend of the carnival- half-lit by paper lanterns swaying gently from bamboo poles, the sound of laughter and music dulled here, like it had been placed under glass. People sat two-by-two at long, low tables. Children dipped brushes in watercolor, couples leaned close to whisper meanings behind symbols, old men painted silent wishes with practiced hands while their wives held the paper still.

It was intimate. Soft in a way that didn’t fit him.

Jake hesitated at the edge, hands in his pockets, scanning the crowd as if unsure this was a place he was allowed to step into. But Y/N had already slid into a seat, looking up at him with a raised brow and a half-smile.

“Come on,” she said, patting the bench beside her. “You don’t have to be poetic.”

Jake exhaled through his nose, smiled faintly, and took the seat next to her. He picked up a thin brush, stared at it for a second like it might bite him, and then dipped it into the ink.

“What are you painting?” He asked after a while, glancing at her paper.

Y/N tilted her lantern toward him- a red koi, bold and rising, swimming upward against a flow of soft blue current. Something about it reminded him of her- stubborn and graceful all at once.

He turned his own lantern around, showing her what he’d written:

Tin Cups Diner.

She snorted. “That’s it?”

Jake shrugged, half-grinning. “It’s the best place on earth.”

Y/N shook her head but didn’t tease him further. They just sat there for a moment, shoulders nearly brushing, watching each other from the corners of their eyes. The brush water rippled faintly between them.

Later, when the fireworks began- loud bursts splitting the sky into molten gold and violet- they left the crowds behind. The temple garden wasn’t far, a sloped patch of grass just beyond the canal. They found a quiet spot beneath a ginkgo tree, close enough to hear the river, far enough that their silence didn’t feel strange.

The lanterns had begun to float.

Dozens of them- painted, inked, marked with names and hopes and half-meant prayers- drifted down the canal like paper stars. Their glow danced in the water, flickering with each ripple, as if trying to stay alive just a little longer before the dark took them. They wondered how far their own lanterns had gotten.

Y/N sighed softly. “I used to come here with my cousins,” she said. “Every year. It always felt like something big would happen here. Like the year would change or something.”

Jake glanced sideways at her. “Maybe it is.”

She turned to him, unsure what he meant.

Jake reached down and tugged a blade of grass from the ground, rolled it between his fingers like he needed something to do with his hands. His gaze stayed on the canal, on the soft flicker of firelight reflecting off the water. And then he said, almost casually, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Y/N froze.

Jake didn’t look at her- not yet.

“I wasn’t going to say anything tonight. Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he added, with a breath of a laugh. “But then you smiled at that old lady who gave you the dumpling and I just... yeah.”

He finally turned to face her.

“You make everything feel easy. And loud. And too much. And I like it. I like you. I don’t know how it happened- how I got here. I woke up one day and I just knew. Liking you- loving you has been the easiest damn thing I've done in a while.”

His fingers flexed slightly, like he was holding back from reaching for her.

Jake pressed his lips together. “And I know that’s not fair. I know you didn’t ask for it. But that moment… that day in your house- when we almost kissed- that meant something. I know you felt it too.”

He leaned in just a little, like he was trying not to push, but couldn’t help himself.

“I’ve been trying to be the version of me that waits. That doesn’t ruin things. But I swear to God, Y/N, if I have to keep pretending that didn’t happen- that it didn’t change anything- I’ll lose my mind.”

Another pause. His voice dropped, almost like a confession to himself.

“I’m not asking you to pick. That would be unfair on you. I’m not trying to be the loudest voice in your head either. And if you don’t want to pick- that’s perfectly fine, too. I just… couldn’t let tonight end without you knowing that I’m already in it. All the damn way in it.”

READ ENDING HERE

[lveegsoi]

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡BITE ME

vampire!ni-ki who lived through centuries of loneliness and silence. Ni-ki has made a habit of feeling your pulse. When he’s holding your hand he likes to press his fingers slightly at your wrist. The slow rhythm of your pulse brings him comfort he hasn’t felt for so many years. He never said anything, he didn’t have to, but you’ve felt how he holds you just a little longer than necessary, how his thumb lingers, pressing gently against your pulse point, as if counting each beat. As if memorizing it. Because it reassures him. That you’re there, that you’re alive and that there’s still something human close enough to touch, to remind him he’s not entirely a monster.

vampire!ni-ki who pierce your bottom lip when he kisses you. At first he’d just peck your lips, quick and soft, but it’s never just a quick kiss with him, especially if he’s hungry for you. It would start slowly with one quick peck, that’s what you say to yourself every time he comes to kiss you, then he’d place a second kiss on your soft lips, one that went on slightly longer than the first. Then would come the third kiss, then the fourth, then the fifth. And just like that, one quick kiss would lead to a full make-out session. And then he’d bite. Not hard, not deep. The bite would be just sharp enough for his fang to pierce the soft flesh of your bottom lip. A single sting, so quick you wouldn’t have time to flinch. His tongue would slowly slide along your lip, tasting the small amount of blood on it. A low moan would leave his mouth as he loses himself in your taste.

“Sorry.” he’d murmur. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Then his thumb would brush your swollen lip, collecting the remaining blood , and after that he’d kiss you again, but this time softer, like he’s trying to say thank you without using words.

vampire!ni-ki who likes to fuck you in missionary or from behind, with your back pressed against his toned chest and one arm around your neck and the other between your legs. What Ni-ki loves the most is marking you up. Most of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s biting your neck while thrusting inside you, not until he hears soft whimpers leaving your mouth from the slight pain of the bite. Marking you is like a second nature to him- the possessiveness, the need to show the world who you belong to.

Aside from your neck, the inside of your thighs is his favorite place to leave his markings. How couldn’t he bite the soft skin of your legs when he goes to eat you out? It’s like placing a cup of blood in front of him and to expect him not to drink it.

vampire!ni-ki who also likes to be marked by you. He finds it cute when you try to imitate him by pressing your canines deeper into his skin, trying to make deep marks just like the ones on your body. Despite the effort you put into every bite, they would fade quicker than the marks he’d leave on your body. But rest assured, Ni-ki would definitely tattoo your bite mark on himself if it meant having a piece of you with him when you're no longer around.

masterlist

divider by cursed-carmine

[lveegsoi]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆desire: unleashed

.ೃ࿐𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒

ׂ╰┈➤s. 𝑣𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒 ��𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙 wc. 2k p.𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑣𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒!𝑗𝑎𝑘𝑒 w.𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑒𝑥 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑣𝑒, 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑒 n. ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠!

three weeks had passed since the world twisted on its axis - since your best friend’s laughter dimmed into silence, since jake’s hands stopped feeling warm. three weeks since he disappeared for two endless nights and came back completely changed, the boy you once knew half-swallowed by something sharp, ancient and utterly broken.

you found him crouched in an underbrush, soaked to the bone, trembling uncontrollibly, his clothes torn and fingers painted red, like some kind of creature of myth. jake’s face had been unrecognisable at first - eyes wild, teeth sharp, the scent of blood clinging to him like second skin - and yet, beneath it all, it was still him. the same boy who had once tried to build you a treehouse and cried when he fell. the one who always carried gum for you even though he hated the taste.

you didn’t flinch when you discovered him. instead, you reached out with trembling hands, whispering his name into the quiet.

-

since that starry night, the two of you had resembled ghosts, drifting from one dark corner of the world to the next - motels, abandoned cabins, forests with no names, just to not get caught by hunters. you learned to sleep lightly and move quickly, to read the woods like a living, breathing thing. jake never stayed in one place for more than a day. you never asked what he did when he quietly slipped away at dusk with shadows marking his eyes, but you always felt it when he returned - colder, quieter, marked with guilt he never dared to voice.

you didn’t need him to say it, beacuse you knew.

he was hungry and not in the way humans hunger - not for warmth, food or touch - but in a way that clawed at his insides, gnawed at his conscience, and left painful bruises behind his ribs.

and yet, no matter how starved he became, he never touched you, not even once. that was more than a promise, a vow he was never going to break.

-

the pursuit today had been brutal in every way.

dogs barking, branches tearing, the glint of silver blades in the dark. you’d barely managed to outrun the hunters, lungs burning and heart threatening to crack your chest open. jake had pulled you after him, never letting go of your wrist, the two of you moving like a single shadow through the forest until you reached the edge of a cliff.

and then you jumped - a moment of wind, a heartbeat suspended in time. you had no idea if you were going to make it, but you trusted jake. and if you were going to die, then doing it with him would hurt a bit less.

the roar of the waterfall was endless - you were falling for what felt like an eternity, yet you still had your consciousness. you weren’t gone, your grip on jake’s hand unwavering.

suddenly, you were here beneath the god of water, which you just had a ride on. a cavern veiled by sheets of falling light, hidden from the world above. your body was more than shaking, soaked and aching, but you were okay, and all you could see was him standing with his back to you, rainwater streaming from his hair, muscles taut like he was barely holding something back.

you didn’t dare speak at first. you only watched the rise and fall of jake’s broad, freshly scarred shoulders, the way his fingers twitched at his sides as if resisting the urge to claw at himself. there was something frayed about him, fragile, as though he was moments from unraveling entirely.

when you finally took the courage to whisper his name, it came soft, raw, unsure. jake turned slowly, like it pained him to do so, and you met his eyes. they were not the warm amber you remembered - they glowed faintly now, gold laced with hunger, a storm brewing behind them.

you slowly stepped forward, which resulted in him flinching.

“i’m fine.” - he muttered, voice hoarse and low, but you knew him too well - that tone meant anything but. his hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white, jaw tight with restraint.

“you’re not” - you said gently, reaching for him even as he recoiled.

“don’t.” - he growled -“don’t get close.”

but you did. you always did.

“jake” - you whispered, fingertips grazing the edge of his torn-apart sleeve, “please. let me help.”

“i’m not human anymore” - he spat, each word bitter and full of shame. “i don’t even know what i am. i shouldn’t be anywhere near you. i want-”- he cut off, breath shuddering.

“i know”- you said. you swallowed hard, throat tight- “you’re starving.”

jake turned his face away- “i could hurt you.”

“you won’t.”

“you don’t know that.”

“i do.”

he finally met your gaze again, and the anguish there was unbearable - raw and unfiltered, like an open wound. jake looked like a man being torn apart from the inside. you could see the hunger, yes, but deeper still, there was fear. of himself, of losing control, of losing you.

and still - even now - there was longing - a different kind.

one he didn’t know you had in yourself too. onehe hadn’t said out loud. not yet.

so you decided to say it for him.

“i love you, jake.”

the words fell into the cavern like a confession carved in stone.

he stared at you, stunned, as though the idea had never occurred to him. love was something reserved for only for humans, for lives not dipped in blood and darkness.

“i love you.” - you say again, slower this time - “not because i pity you, not because i think i can fix you in any way, but because you’ve always been the one for me, the one, who occupies every crook of my heart. even before this.”

jake took a step toward you, then another.

the fear didn’t leave his face. if anything, it deepened- “you don’t understand what you’re saying” - he breathes. -“if you stay with me, you’ll be hunted too. you’ll never be safe. and i don’t even know if i can ever go back to who I was before.”

“i don’t want who you were” - you said, stepping forward until there was barely an inch between you - “i want you. whoever you are now.”

something twisted inside him then.

a sound escaped his throat - half sob, half growl - and his arms were around you before you could blink. he buried his face in the curve of your soft, wet neck, his breath icy, grip almost too tight. but it wasn’t violent. it was desperate, like a man trying to keep himself from sinking.

you pressed your lips to the side of his head and whispered -“you’re not a monster.”

“i am.”

“fine. so be it.”

he pulled back, just enough to look at your expression, and then jake’s mouth was on yours in the span of a heartbeat.

the kiss was nothing like you had imagined. it wasn’t soft, patient or hesitant - it was fierce, unsteady, like he was fighting himself even as he was giving in. his lips were cold at first, but they warmed quickly against yours, moving with a hunger that wasn’t about your pulse, but something far deeper.

you kissed him back with everything you’d been holding in for years -the ache, the unbearable love. your hands buried themselves into his wet, messyy hair as he pressed you against the stone wall of the cave, your breaths mixing in frantic gasps between kisses.

he was shaking not from cold, but restraint. his hands cradled your face like he was terrified you’d break under his touch.

“i’ve wanted this” - he said against your lips, voice breaking -“before all of this. before i changed.”

“so have i” - you breathed.

jake leaned his forehead against yours, both of you trembling, caught between ruin and salvation.

“i can’t lose you.” - he whispered

“and you won’t.” - you answered

you didn’t know who leaned in first this time, but when your lips met again, it was slower. deeper. the taste of him was wild and aching.

’’jake?’’ - you pulled away just enough to whisper

’’yes?’’

‘’please.’’ - you uttered, voice pleading for something you knew was going to torture his thirst to the maximum. your eyes were glistening with desire as you looked up at him, only to find the same expression written all over his own face.

jake lifted you into his arms and carried you deeper into the cave, where moss carpeted the stone and the sound of falling water felt like a heartbeat surrounding you. the world was nothing but shadows and breath. nothing but him and the way he touched you like you were something holy.

he laid you down like an untold prayer, and just before your bodies fell into each other completely, before you surrendered everything, he looked into your eyes and said:

“you’re the only thing keeping me even slightly human.”

then he dove into your scent completely. you were devastatingly beautiful under the weight of jake’s body - lips plump, skin wet and glowing, eyelashes fluttering up at him like he was the brightest star in the whole night sky. he loved you, and god was he willing to do anything to prove it to you now.

jake’s fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his touch featherlight, as if you might dissolve beneath him. his eyes - dark as the deepest night, yet alight with something hungry and tender - burned into yours. you arched into jake, hands sliding up his chest, feeling the unnatural stillness of his undead heart.

a shudder ran through him. his lips crashed against yours, not with the brutal hunger you had half-expected, but with a desperate, aching reverence. the kiss was deep, slow, intoxicating - each movement of his mouth against yours a promise, a plea.

jake’s hands roamed your body with a lover’s patience, learning every dip and curve as if you were truly sacred. the thin, almost destroyed fabric of your clothes was an unbearable barrier, and when his fingers finally slipped beneath, you gasped at the coolness of his touch against your fevered skin.

he worshiped you with his mouth, your throat, collarbone, the swell of your breasts - each kiss a brand, each sigh from your lips a torment to his restraint. you could feel the tension in him, the way his body trembled with the effort of holding back, the way his fangs grazed your skin in fleeting, dangerous caresses.

"tell me to stop" - he breathed against her stomach, voice ragged.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him up to meet your gaze. "never."

the word undid him.

his hips pressed against yours, and you felt him - hard, aching, every inch of him alive with need. the moss beneath cradled your bodies as he moved his dick inside you, rhythm slow at first, savoring the way you clenched around his length, the way your breath hitched when he filled you completely.

the mist clung to your skin, the waterfall’s song a relentless echo of your own pounding heart. jake buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts as he fought the unbearable urge to sink his fangs into your tender flesh.

"fuck, i want-" - he growled, voice thick with hunger.

"i know-" - you moaned, tilting your head back, baring your throat to him in reckless trust.

but jake only kissed you there, soft and lingering, before capturing your lips again. his thrusts grew deeper, more urgent, your bodies moving in perfect harmony, as if they had been made for this, for each other.

when the pleasure finally crested, it was your name on jake’s lips as he spilled inside. you followed him over the edge, your cry lost in the thunder of the falls, body trembling with the force of your release.

afterward, he held you close, fingers tracing idle patterns on your damp skin. the hunger still simmered in his gaze, but beneath it was something far more dangerous, something eternal.

and as the waterfall roared on, you knew - this was only the beginning.

-

divider credits: cursed-carmine

[lveegsoi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ where enhypen would finish.

·˚ ༘𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡

ׂ╰┈➤s. 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑢𝑚 wc. 1.4k w. 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡+ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 (18+ 𝑚𝑑𝑛𝑖!) n. 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦!

heeseung - inside. to hee, there's nothing better than finishing inside you - the way your body tightens around him, the way your breath hitches, how he can feel every pulse of his release as he presses as deep as possible. it's more than pleasure - it's possession, it's devotion, it's the most intimate thing he can imagine.

that first shuddering moment when he spills inside you, your warmth surrounding him, thighs trembling against his hips. he lives for the way you gasp when you feel him, nails digging into his back like you never want him to leave.

there's also something primal about it - an instinctive need to claim, to fill you up so thoroughly that even after he pulls out, you're still his. heeseung loves the thought of you carrying his release inside you, even if just for a little while.

he swears you get tighter when he comes, like your body is milking every last drop from him. it's overwhelming, intoxicating, and he can't help but groan your name like a prayer when it happens.

you stay locked together, panting, his forehead pressed to yours as he rides out the aftershocks. he kisses you lazily, murmuring praise - "took me so well, baby." the possessive hand on your hip when he finally pulls out, watching his release drip from you.

"again" - because he's never satisfied just once. the second he catches his breath, he's already thinking about the next time he can fill you up.

jay - tits. there’s something electric about the moment he paints your chest - the way your skin flushes under his release, how your breath catches as warm streaks stripe your skin. it’s possessive, it’s filthy, and it drives him wild every damn time.

watching himself mark you - your tits glazed, nipples pebbled, his cum stark against your skin - it’s art to him. he’ll stare like he’s memorizing it, jaw clenched, pupils blown.

the way you arch into it, or gasp when the first hot stripe lands. maybe you even open your mouth without thinking, and fuck if that doesn’t make him throb.

his voice is rough when he says it, thumb swiping through the mess to smear it over your nipples - "made such a pretty fucking mess, baby."

he loves licking it off you - slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, just to hear you whine. or maybe he makes you rub it in, his cum slicking your fingers as you play with yourself.

he’s already dreaming about the next time - maybe higher, maybe lower, maybe while you’re begging for it.

jake - ass. to him, nothing compares to the forbidden heat of finishing inside your ass - body clenching around him, audible whimpers when he fills you up, the way his release stays trapped deep inside where only he can reach. it's maddening, and so intoxicating he can't get enough.

that tight, searing heat - so much more intense than anywhere else. the second he pushes in deep and spills, he swears he sees stars, your body milking him dry with every damn pulse.

it’s animalistic - claiming you in the most forbidden way, leaving his mark where no one else can see. he loves knowing you'll feel it for hours after.

the choked gasp when he first pushes in, the broken moan when he comes, the way you beg "more" even as he's already giving you everything.

how you collapse together, his cock still buried inside you as he whispers filthy praise - "fuck, you take it so good." the way he lazily rubs your hips when he finally pulls out, watching his release leak from your well-used hole.

sunghoon - stomach. the deliciously primal feeling of coming on your stomach - how his release paints your skin, hot and claiming, as he watches with dark, satisfied eyes. it's not just about the pleasure, it's about seeing his desire spilled across you, marking you in the most visual way possible.

the way your chest rises and falls beneath him, stomach tensing as his release streaks across your skin - it's beautiful to him. he loves watching it, how stark and intimate it looks against your body.

if finishing inside you is about possession, this is about display - proof of what he's done to you, what you've drawn out of him. he gets off on the visual proof of your shared pleasure.

how you shiver when the first hot stripe hits your skin, the soft gasp you make when you see how much he's given you. he lives for the way you look up at him, lips parted, as he marks you.

and he's not gentle about it either - he wants it everywhere, smeared across your stomach, your hips, maybe even higher if he's feeling particularly possessive. the messier, the better, because it means you'll feel it on your skin long after.

"look at you” - the growl in his voice when he drags a thumb through it, spreading it further, marking you deliberately. "you’re mine".

sunoo - thighs. to him, it’s maddeningly erotic to come on your thighs - the way his release spills hot and thick against your skin, streaking down the sensitive inner flesh he'd just been teasing moments before.

your soft skin, flushed and trembling under his touch, now marked with him - it's a picture he'll never get tired of. the way his release glazes over your thighs, some dripping down toward your knees... fuck.

it’s so close to where you really want him, yet just out of reach - it's torture in the best way. the way you whine when he denies you, when he chooses to stripe your thighs instead of giving you what you begged for, only makes it hotter.

how your legs twitch when the first hot splash hits, how you bite your lip as you watch him coat your skin. he loves that shaky little gasp you make when it's more than you expected.

thighs are personal - close enough to be intimate, but not where you'd expect. it's a tease, a promise, a reminder that he could have had you anywhere he wanted... but he chose this.

"stay still" - the way his voice drops when he pins your hips down, making sure you take it, that every drop lands exactly where he wants it.

jungwon - face. your lashes flutter, lips part, breath hitches as he stains your face with his release. it's not just about pleasure, it's about worship and debauchery tangled together in the most maddening way.

the way you look up at him - submissive, trusting, wanting - makes his pulse roar. whether your gaze is hazy with pleasure or burning with defiance, the moment his cum streaks across your cheeks, he owns you.

your flushed skin, the heat of your mouth so close, how he stands out stark against you - it's obscene and he can't look away.

holding your chin, tilting your head back just so, watching you let him mark you like this - it's control at its peak. and if you lick your lips after? damn..

"you look perfect like this." - the growl in his voice when he smears a thumb through it, dragging his claim across your cheeks. he wants you to feel it, to remember it.

you blink up at him, sticky and spent, and he kisses you anyway, swallowing your gasp as he tastes himself on your tongue.

ni-ki - mouth. there's nothing more intimately dominant to him than finishing in your mouth - how your lips part for him, the heat of your tongue against him, the surrender in your eyes as you take everything he gives you. it's ownership at it’s peak, the ultimate act of trust between you two.

the way you look up at him, lashes fluttering, as he holds your head in place, knowing you're letting him use your mouth, that you want to swallow every drop. it's the hottest form of surrender he can imagine.

that first pulse against your wet warmth, the way your throat works instinctively to take him deeper. he loses it at the feeling, fingers tightening in your hair as he groans your name.

he should feel bad for how rough he gets, but the choked little noises you make when he pushes too deep? they just make him harder. he loves the mess of it - saliva-slick lips, teary eyes, the obscene drip if he pulls out too fast.

‘’swallow." - the command is guttural, desperate. he needs to watch your throat move as you obey, needs to see proof that you've taken all of him. the way you lick your lips after, still tasting him? fuck.

when he drags you up and licks into your mouth, savoring the bitter tang of himself on your tongue. "good girl."

-

divider credits: cursed-carmine

[lveegsoi]

perv!Jay who likes to make you go in front of him when the two of you go up the stairs. He says it’s because if you trip and fall he’ll be right behind you to catch you, and not because he wants to stare at your ass. If you wear a skirt it’s 100 % guaranteed he’d peek under it to catch a glimpse of the color of your thong, but don’t worry he’d never dare take underskirt photos of you, he’s too scared of the possibility of you accidentally finding them and publicly shaming him. But that doesn’t mean he hadn’t made a ,,list” in his mind, in which he keeps track of the color of your underwear. By far it’s seems that purple has been the color you wear every two days.

Jay doesn’t mind, in fact he likes how purple makes your ass look. Good thing his favorite color is purple, right?

perv!Jay who more than once has touched himself while you were in the shower, oblivious to the fact he was standing behind the slightly ajar door. Most of the time he didn’t mean to peek, but how couldn’t he when you’ve left the door open like an invite. He’d wait a minute after he heard the running water before slowly creeping to the door. With one hand he’d start unbuckling his belt and palming his hard on through his boxers and with the other he’d push the door more to get a more clear sight of your silhouette behind the glass of your shower. It wouldn’t take long for him to cum in his pants, after all the view of you slowly massaging your tits with soup makes his dick twitch. After he’s finished he would close the door, making sure not to do it loudly, then he’d sit and relax on the sofa, scrolling through his phone like nothing has happened.

perv!Jay who would take advantage of the overcrowded bus to get close to you. If your back is turned towards him he’d subtly try to grind his dick against your lower back and if you’re facing him he’d press his chest even closer to you just to feel your tits press against him. His hand would definitely hold your waist for the sake of keeping you ,, sturdy”. One thing Jay can’t make sense out of is why you haven’t call him out of the way his hand doesn’t just stay and your waist but after a bit would wonder lower toward your butt.

perv!Jay who would volunteer to keep your appointment clean when you have to leave town for a few days. Jay has a to do list made for this occasion. Day one- he would clean your whole apartment, leaving no spot uncleaned. Day two- he’d do your laundry if you have one. Lucky for him 9/10 times you do and almost every time he finds a pair of your lace panties. Jay’s body would move like in autopilot. One moment he’s holding your panties in front of the washing machine and the next he’s on your bed, said panties wrapped around his dick as he jerks himself off of the thought of you finding him naked on your bed.

Day three- he would snoop around, trying to find if you’ve hiding anything. Considering you never hide things from him, he almost never finds anything interesting, that’s until he does. Placed between some old boxes in your closet Jay finds the source of his wildest fantasies for the next few months. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing at first. You, who was so innocent, so pure minded has a box filled with sex toys- different types of vibrators, dildos and a pair of hand cuffs could be found in the box. What caught his attention was the Shibari rope sitting at the bottom of the box.

Let’s just say during the next few late night masturbating session he’d fantasize about you using that rope on him and using him however you pleased.

perv!Jay who despite being smart never really noticed that he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was. You knew Jay was somewhat of a pervert, how couldn’t you. I mean you’ve felt him staring at your ass and tits more time than you can count. At first you didn’t know what to make of it, but the more he stared the more you get flustered. Why hasn’t he made a move one you yet? What was he waiting for? Then the little teasing began : wearing skirts with thongs in his favorite color, leaving the bathroom door open while you were taking a shower, leaving your panties on the top of your laundry for him too see. But even after that he still hadn’t asked you out.

Unbelievable, right?

Likes, comments, reblogs and any kind of feedback are appreciated! Please don’t copy, repost, translate or alter my work.

divider by nchanthings-a

[lveegsoi]

perv!Jay who likes to make you go in front of him when the two of you go up the stairs. He says it’s because if you trip and fall he’ll be right behind you to catch you, and not because he wants to stare at your ass. If you wear a skirt it’s 100 % guaranteed he’d peek under it to catch a glimpse of the color of your thong, but don’t worry he’d never dare take underskirt photos of you, he’s too scared of the possibility of you accidentally finding them and publicly shaming him. But that doesn’t mean he hadn’t made a ,,list” in his mind, in which he keeps track of the color of your underwear. By far it’s seems that purple has been the color you wear every two days.

Jay doesn’t mind, in fact he likes how purple makes your ass look. Good thing his favorite color is purple, right?

perv!Jay who more than once has touched himself while you were in the shower, oblivious to the fact he was standing behind the slightly ajar door. Most of the time he didn’t mean to peek, but how couldn’t he when you’ve left the door open like an invite. He’d wait a minute after he heard the running water before slowly creeping to the door. With one hand he’d start unbuckling his belt and palming his hard on through his boxers and with the other he’d push the door more to get a more clear sight of your silhouette behind the glass of your shower. It wouldn’t take long for him to cum in his pants, after all the view of you slowly massaging your tits with soup makes his dick twitch. After he’s finished he would close the door, making sure not to do it loudly, then he’d sit and relax on the sofa, scrolling through his phone like nothing has happened.

perv!Jay who would take advantage of the overcrowded bus to get close to you. If your back is turned towards him he’d subtly try to grind his dick against your lower back and if you’re facing him he’d press his chest even closer to you just to feel your tits press against him. His hand would definitely hold your waist for the sake of keeping you ,, sturdy”. One thing Jay can’t make sense out of is why you haven’t call him out of the way his hand doesn’t just stay and your waist but after a bit would wonder lower toward your butt.

perv!Jay who would volunteer to keep your appointment clean when you have to leave town for a few days. Jay has a to do list made for this occasion. Day one- he would clean your whole apartment, leaving no spot uncleaned. Day two- he’d do your laundry if you have one. Lucky for him 9/10 times you do and almost every time he finds a pair of your lace panties. Jay’s body would move like in autopilot. One moment he’s holding your panties in front of the washing machine and the next he’s on your bed, said panties wrapped around his dick as he jerks himself off of the thought of you finding him naked on your bed.

Day three- he would snoop around, trying to find if you’ve hiding anything. Considering you never hide things from him, he almost never finds anything interesting, that’s until he does. Placed between some old boxes in your closet Jay finds the source of his wildest fantasies for the next few months. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing at first. You, who was so innocent, so pure minded has a box filled with sex toys- different types of vibrators, dildos and a pair of hand cuffs could be found in the box. What caught his attention was the Shibari rope sitting at the bottom of the box.

Let’s just say during the next few late night masturbating session he’d fantasize about you using that rope on him and using him however you pleased.

perv!Jay who despite being smart never really noticed that he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was. You knew Jay was somewhat of a pervert, how couldn’t you. I mean you’ve felt him staring at your ass and tits more time than you can count. At first you didn’t know what to make of it, but the more he stared the more you get flustered. Why hasn’t he made a move one you yet? What was he waiting for? Then the little teasing began : wearing skirts with thongs in his favorite color, leaving the bathroom door open while you were taking a shower, leaving your panties on the top of your laundry for him too see. But even after that he still hadn’t asked you out.

Unbelievable, right?

Likes, comments, reblogs and any kind of feedback are appreciated! Please don’t copy, repost, translate or alter my work.

divider by nchanthings-a

masterlist

[lveegsoi]

🤭

˚୨୧⋆｡ take what i want

₊˚⊹♡𝑑𝑒𝑗𝑎 𝑣𝑢

s. 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 p.𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑏𝑓!𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑜 wc. 1.1k w.𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡(18+ 𝑚𝑑𝑛𝑖!); 𝑑𝑜𝑚 𝑔𝑓, 𝑠𝑢𝑏 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑜𝑜, 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 n. 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒’𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑑, 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒!

sunoo has always been the type of boyfriend to never ask for something when he truly wants it. ever since the two of you have been together, he’s found many ways of beating around the bush about his intimate desires, surpressing them completely, despite the countless amount of times you’ve told him that he should do the exact opposite. it was getting beyond frustrating and the effect this nuiscance had on the sexual side of your relationship was anything but positive.

you knew sunoo wanted you to suck his dick as much as you did yourself, yet he didn’t dare ask. it was beyond your understanding how a person could keep so much built in tension inside of them, when they could just ask for it to be relieved.

this had to change. in fact, it had to change tonight.

the bedroom was dimly lit and warm, your boyfriend laying down on your shared bed, watching something on the television. sunoo’s right arm was positioned right behind his head, resting itself on a pillow, giving the person watching a perfect view of his slightly-flexed biceps. your boyfriend was truly handsome.

he was so invested in what he was watching, that he almost didn’t see you sneaking up to him, intentionally wearing only a t-shirt of his and very revealing underwear. when he finally felt your presence, he gave you a warm smile and a caress on the head, completely clueless about what was about to come his way.

you returned sunoo’s gesture with the same warmth. your fingers cupped his jaw, slightly tugging his face towards yours, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. sunoo returned it with the same pace, only for you to pull away and slowly slide your tongue down to his adam’s apple, circling and pecking around it.

your lips were fire against his skin - searing kisses trailing down the column of his throat, each one leaving behind the ghost of your teeth. he shuddered beneath you, fingers tangling in your hair as you worked your way lower, tongue flicking over the sharp ridge of his collarbone.

"god, you taste good"- you murmured, voice thick with hunger. Your hands slid down sunoo’s chest, nails scraping lightly over his abs before hooking into the waistband of his pants. you looked up at him through wispy lashes, eyes dark with intent.

"take these off, baby. now."

it wasn't a request.

a ragged breath tore from his throat, his expression a mix between confusion, pleasure and resistment. you were almost sure he’d decline, or change the topic, but after a few quiet moments of silence, he obeyed. your eyes were wide with surprise as he lifted his hips, signaling you to yank his pants and boxers down. you did so in one rough pull. the cool air hit his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of your gaze as you took his already set erection in - hard, aching, leaking for you.

with one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing just enough to drag a groan from his lips, you leaned in, breath hot against the tip. you looked at sunoo as you kissed his length, and he was sweating, literally about to combust. you smirked, then took him into your mouth, not breaking the eye contact, with a slow, filthy slide of your tongue.

sunoo swore, hips jerking as you hollowed her cheeks, sucking him deeper with every pass. your free hand gripped his thigh, nails biting into flesh, keeping him pinned even as he twitched beneath. you set a relentless pace, tongue swirling over the head before sinking down again, taking him to the back of your throat with a muffled moan.

"oh, fuck-"- his voice was wrecked already, fingers tightening in your hair. "please don’t stop, just like that, baby, just-ah-”

you hummed around his dick, the vibration wringing another broken curse from his lips. every flick of your tongue, every drag of your lips was calculated torture, and when you pulled off just to lick a stripe up his length, his entire body tensed.

"look at me" - you demanded, and he obeyed instantly, meeting your gaze as you took him back into your mouth, slow and deliberate. the eye contact was devastating - lips stretched around him, cheeks flushed, eyes burning with the same desperate need coiling in his own gut.

sunoo was shaking, his thighs trembling, grip on your hair turning pleading. you could feel he was close to finishing, but you couldn’t let him do that.

your fingers dug into his hips, nails leaving crescent moons in his skin as you stopped him right at the edge - the warmth of your mouth disappearing into the air, hands on his legs.

"no-" you breathed, voice honey-sweet and venom-sharp -"not yet."

he choked, hips jerking, but you held him there, your upper body a vise, grip unrelenting. tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, frustration and desperation twisting his face into something beautifully broken.

"you-fuck, please -"- his voice cracked, ragged, his hands scrambling in your hair, anywhere, anywhere for leverage. but you were the one in control. you were the one who decided.

you leaned in, lips brushing his ear - "you made me wait"- you murmured, dragging your teeth over his pulse point. "weeks. months. teasing me. letting me taste you just enough to starve me."- your hips rolled, slow, agonizing, and he sobbed. "how does it feel?"

sunoo was trembling, sweat-slick and shaking, his cock twitching uncontrollibly - "i'm so sorry, baby, please-I can't-"

you laughed, low and dark, and went down his body once again in one swift motion, watching him unravel. -"you can. and you will, until I say you're done."

his breath hitched, tears spilling over -"i'll-anything, just let me-"

"beg harder.’’- you demanded.

and he obeyed.

sunoo was so desperate, so needy for the sensation of his cock releasing, that he was begging you for it like a person gone mad. seeing how distressed he had become, you decided to be graceful and grant him the opportunity to do so.

with the same serpent-like movements of your tongue, you sucked him properly one last time, and he became absolutely undone. he was moaning, whining as he finished right in your mouth, his release spilling out of it uncontrollibly. it was so much, that you had to push it back inside multiple times. a single drop could not be wasted.

as your boyfriend calmed down, he smiled at you, making a move to cup your face and pull you towards his lips, giving you a very slow, sensual kiss. you smiled against sunoo and laid beside him. you knew this was exactly what the both of you wanted, and you were happy he finally let you act on your desires.

and it wasn’t going to be the last time you’d act on them either.

-

divider credits: cursed-carmine

[lveegsoi]

—좋아해서 미안, 미안 좋아해서 미안해 맘에 들어 미안, 미안

ೃ⁀➷ ABOUT ME, RULES AND MASTERLIST

sagittarius INTP 18

This blog has nsfw posts so MDNI

I write for Skz and Enhypen, but I'll probably write for TXT and Ateez in the future

Likes, comments, reblogs and any kind of feedback are appreciated! Please don’t copy, repost, translate or alter my work.

Requests are open

Masterlist under the cut

✴︎ nsfw ✿ fluff ꩜ angst ☆ readers’ favorite 𐙚 personal favorite

ೃ⁀➷ STRAY KIDS

: ̗̀➛ tba...

ೃ⁀➷ ENHYPEN

: ̗̀➛ Sunghoon

-° SAVE US 박성훈 ° ✴︎ 𐙚

synopsis.. Being a castaway wasn't that bad, especially when a hot man, straight out of your wettest dream, one day was washed ashore just as you began preparing to leave the island.

: ̗̀➛ Jake

-TEAR IT 심재윤 ✴︎

synopsis.. Wearing a Spiderman bodysuit was probably not your brightest idea, considering your boyfriend's reaction, upon seeing you in it, was like nothing you've never seen before.

-DIRTY!JAKE ✴︎ ☆ 𐙚

-.ೃ࿐RESTRICTED 심재윤 ✴︎

: ̗̀➛ Jay

-PERV!JAY ✴︎ 𐙚

: ̗̀➛ Ni-ki

-VAMPIRE!NI-KI ☆

ೃ⁀➷ TXT

: ̗̀➛ Soobin

-˗ˏˋNERDY최수빈 ´ˎ ˗ ✴︎ ☆

synopsis… the different positions and places where you and your nerdy boyfriend have sex.

ೃ⁀➷ ATEEZ

: ̗̀➛ tba...

[lveegsoi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ enhypen’s favorite positions.

. ׂׂૢ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟.

ׂ╰┈➤s. 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠’ 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑥 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 wc.1.1k w. 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 + ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 (18+ 𝑚𝑑𝑛𝑖!) n.𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦!

heeseung - mating press. oh, he adores the mating press - like, obsessively. it's heeseung’s go-to position, his absolute favorite, the one thing he’ll never get tired of because it just hits different.

it’s the ultimate intimacy - chest to chest, hips locked together, faces so close you share each and every breath. you can kiss, bite, whisper filth, or just stare into each other’s eyes as he moves, drowning in the intensity.

the angle is chef’s kiss - deep, relentless, no escape. every thrust drags against all the right spots, and the way your body arches beneath him? utmost perfection.

there’s also something about having you pinned, completely at his mercy - it’s a power trip, which makes him reach a state of insanity.

also, the aftercare is immaculate. collapsed together, still joined, catching your breath while trading lazy kisses? godsent.

jay - cowgirl. when he wants control, when he wants to take his pleasure with desperate, bouncing frenzy - cowgirl is his kingdom.

the power dynamic is chef's kiss - gripping your waist and watching you take what you want - it's intoxicating.

chests heaving, hair tousled, that perfect flush spreading down your body as you move? art. absolute art.

slow, sensual rises and falls, then suddenly bouncing hard enough to leave bruises on your thighs. the versatility? unmatched.

his hands are free to wander - gripping hips, thumbing over nipples, pulling them down into a messy kiss - every touch just makes it better.

also - eye contact ruins him. locking gazes while you ride him? that's the kind of intimacy that leaves him trembling.

jake - doggy. oh, he lives for doggy - the raw, unfiltered thrill of it, the way it makes him feel both wild and worshiped at the same time. i's not just a position -it's a vibe, a whole damn experience.

the sight is everything- - he curve of your spine, the way your body moves, the sheer obscenity of or taking what he wants like this.

also that angle? brutal. every thrust hits different, punching out noises he didn't even know you could make. it's the kind of pleasure that borders on too much, and yet he’s always begging for more.

jake has complete control - hands tangled in hair, fingers digging into flesh, setting the pace rough and fast or slow and teasing. and you? totally at his mercy, reduced to whimpers and broken moans. (bonus points if there's a well-placed spank or two)

the pose is dirty talk central. growled praise, hissed curses, the kind of "you take me so fucking good" that leaves the both of you shuddering.

sunghoon - pronebone. he’s obsessed with it - the kind of obsession that makes him melt just thinking about it. it's his secret weapon, his guilty pleasure, the position he always circles back to, because it's just that good.

it's all about the surrender. you - face down, body pressed into the mattress, completely at hoon’s mercy. no distractions, just pure, unfiltered sensation - every thrust hitting deep, every drag of skin on skin pulling moans he didn't even know he had in him.

the angle is sinful. hips tilted just right, leverage perfect for hitting the spot that makes you see stars. and the view? devastating. the curve of your back, the way your fingers claw at the sheets, the desperate little noises muffled into the pillow - it's art.

sometimes he’s too wrecked for eye contact, too far gone for anything but the raw, grinding pleasure. it's the best of both worlds - filthy and possessive, but low-effort enough that the both of you can just take each other when you’re too hungry to bother with finesse.

the aftermath is a mess of shaky limbs and bitten-off laughs. collapsed together, still trembling, trying to remember how to breathe. maybe a lazy hand tracing the marks left on your ass, or a kiss pressed between your shoulder blades.

sunoo - face off.  there’s something about the face-off position that drives him wild - the way you straddle him, thighs gripping his hips, bodies pressed so close the both of you can feel every heartbeat, every shuddering breath. it's raw, it's intimate, and it's his.

there's no hiding here - no buried faces, no turning away. just locked gazes, pupils blown wide with pleasure, watching every flicker of emotion cross each other's face. it's too intense, too vulnerable, and that's exactly why he craves it.

he’s the one beneath - completely at your mercy, forced to take whatever he’s given, hands gripping your thighs for leverage.

every movement hits just right - deep, relentless, with your weight pressing him down in the best way. the friction is maddening, the pressure unbearable, and neither of you would change a thing.

jungwon - reverse scoop. there’s something delicious about the reverse scoop -the way he folds you over, chest pressed flush against your back, hips cradled tight in his grasp. it’s possessive, it’s deep, and it’s inescapable.

he can set a brutal pace, grind slow and filthy, or pin you down with an arm hooked under your thighs, forcing you to take every inch. there's no leverage, no wiggle room - just pure, helpless surrender.

chest to back, lips on the nape of your neck, hands gripping wherever they can reach - it's overwhelming in the best way. the heat, the sweat, the way your breath hitches when he bites your shoulder? chef's kiss.

with his mouth right by your ear, he can murmur exactly what he’s going to do - or how good you feel, how tight, how his. either way, it's game over.

when he finally snaps, it's with his teeth sinked into your shoulder, hands bruising your hips, pressing you down into the mattress as he rides out the high.

ni-ki - spork. that tangled, half-folded, limbs-everywhere way of fucking isn't graceful, but that's why he loves it. it's desperate, uncoordinated, and so good he can't think straight.

one leg hooked over a shoulder, the other trapped between your bodies, back arched at a ridiculous angle - nothing about this is practical, but the way it makes you gasp? worth it.

somehow, this jumble of limbs lets him sink deeper than should be physically possible. every thrust punches the air from your lungs, and the choked-out moans it pulls from you? art.

the angle hits so good that neither of you can keep it together - breathy curses, bitten-off pleas, the wet slap of skin echoing between the both of you. it's filthy in the best way.

even in this mess you lock eyes - half-lidded, dazed, watching each other come undone. it's too intimate, too raw, and it ruins you every time.

the collapse is truly inevitable - muscles give out, you slide into a heap, still panting and laughing breathlessly. it's not elegant, but who cares when the aftershocks are that good?

-

divider credits: cursed-carmine

[lveegsoi]

girl dinner 🍽️

────୨ৎ munch riki.

·˚ ༘ 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑌𝑂𝑈.

ׂ╰┈➤ s. 𝑟𝑖𝑘𝑖 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑦 wc. 505. w. 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 + ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 (18+ 𝑚𝑑𝑛𝑖!) n.𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦..

munch!riki.. who doesn't just eat pussy; he treats it like a sacred decadent ritual. He'll spend hours between your thighs if you let him, mapping every gasp, every little twitch, every choked-off whimper like he's studying for a choreography he's desperate to ace. His tongue moves lazy and deliberate, savoring the way you clench around nothing, how your hips stutter when he hums against you. He loves when you beg him to hurry up, just so he can give you one of his diabolical smirks and murmur:

’’But I'm not done tasting you yet."

munch!riki.. who the more you unravel, the more feral he becomes. He'll pin your thighs apart with bruising grip, watching your face as you sob from overstimulation, his lips glistening with your arousal. And when you try to squirm away, oversensitive and shaking? That's when he drags you back, growling:

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. I decide when you're done."

munch!riki.. who brushes his thumb over your bottom lip at dinner. Silent whispers, such as "I can still taste you" while you're trying to focus on things, which require your immediate attention. Lingering eye contact as he slowly licks syrup off his ring-covered fingers at breakfast. He lives for the way your breath hitches, how your cheeks flush - knowing you're replaying every filthy thing he's done to your cunt.

munch!riki.. who fingers you with his chrome hearts rings on, the cold metal contrasting deliciously against the heat of his tongue and the wetness of your pussy. He takes his time, letting your arousal paint the intricate designs of the rings - sharp edges and engraved details - while they drag teasingly over your folds before pressing inside. The weight of the jewelry adds just enough pressure, amplifying every sensation as his fingers curl just right.

Sometimes, he’ll twist a ring slightly, letting the band catch on you in the most maddening way, just to hear you whimper his name. And when he pulls out, the glint of silver against slick fingers is a filthy reminder of how thoroughly he’s marked you - even without leaving bruises.

munch!riki.. who adores turning you into a needy, pleading wreck. He’ll lay you out, spread you wide, and then just… watch. The man will trail his fingers along your inner thighs, kiss everywhere but where you want him, until you're arching off the bed, whining his name. And when you finally break, he'll reward you with a filthy grin and a slow, open-mouthed lick that has you seeing whole galaxies.

munch!riki..who will bury his desperate face in your panties just to inhale deeply, groaning like an addict. If you've been out all day, he'll push you against the door the second you get home, rutting against your thigh, while he mouths at your neck, muttering:

"Fuck, you smell so good - need to get my mouth on you, now."

And if you tease him? If you shift just right so your scent hits him? He'll snap, flipping you onto your backside with a snarl.

[lveegsoi]

a fellow stayengene ?! 🤯 knew i had to follow back bc its so rare seeing us on herefjdhhsj

tnaks for the follow 🩷 and i just want to say that i LOVE you works, especially your last fic 🫶