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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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you call me monster

One night stands at frat parties are so ~freshmen~ but his fingers felt too good against your skin and you liked your hair being pulled a little too much.

The fic in which Jongin is a fuckboy and entirely too attractive.

smut; pwp; hate sex

I wrote this for my friend from twitter but I’m posting here for convenience and I also hope that more people than just her can enjoy!

The marble was cool against your thighs, soaking through the almost unnatural fever that ran through under your skin to curl around the bone; creating a sensation almost enough to break the haze that had been created the moment his lips had touched yours.

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The facts were these:

Kim Jongin’s thighs were to die for;

Kim Jongin’s voice was silky smooth;

Kim Jongin’s hands screamed rough sex;

Kim Jongin’s lips felt perfect against your neck;

and you were both the furthest thing from friendly.

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Unexpected callouses brushed against your legs, exploring the expanse of skint had previously been covered by fabric, touching everything that they’d never thought they’d never touched.

While fate begged against the present, tempting you both to walk back in time, to pull your clothes and dignity back together; to do up the buttons that never really should have been undone and to close doors that wouldn’t have otherwise been opened. You had never been a big believer in fate however, fighting against it at every chance that you got. This occasion being no exception, and while the defiance was more carnal, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy it any less.

His hands found their way from your legs, crossing the space between them and your hair with deft precision, tangling his fingers in the soft strands with barely a breath of warning. “I’m not sure if I prefer you screaming at me or moaning at my touches.” his voice was deep, the edges too rough for him to pretend to be anything other than aroused. He held your head back, eyes edging across the arch of your neck and the curve of your jaw; taking in the spoils of his victory, you thought.

Your voice is not the even tone you were hoping for, instead following a more desperate train of thought that had been flashing before your eyes. “We both know you’d probably pop a boner at me doing anything. Horny college boys, I swear.” Thankfully your vocal chords got the message, turning contemptuous and scathing with the last sentence, matching the dark look you shot him from hooded lids and blown pupils.

A simple smirk was your only reward before his lips pressed against yours, noses brushing as you both tilted your heads instinctually, the core sexual knowledge every human possessed kicking in as he pushed you further back on to the counter.

How you’d managed to start making out with Kim Jongin in a dirty frat house neither of you belonged in was a question that you would address at a later time. The main issue at hand was why his hands were not anywhere that you wanted them to be.

“Why’re.” Gasp. “We.” Moan. “Not.” Groan. “In.” Another gasp. “Bed?”

One thing you had begun to notice about a certain dancer, was that he was not big on talking, instead expressing his intentions with actions, sometimes very suddenly. This time such actions came in the form of his hands tucking beneath your knees, following along the curve of your calves until they’d been pulled around his waist.

“I hope you know I’m going to make you scream.” You only had time to release a shaking breath before his teeth were scraping against your earlobe. “Preferably in-between your desperate moans.” The fact that everyone around you was completely drunk and/or high beyond sense was one that made you feel extremely grateful as you felt your bare hips involuntarily roll against Jongin’s.

The trip up the stairs to one of the many rooms that would have, at the start of the party, been empty was…awkward. If you wished there was one thing that your more senior friends had told you it would be: “Do NOT try and walk up stairs being carried by anyone regardless of their athletic prowess.” While he hadn’t dropped you there had been wobbles in his steps that made you fear that a reality in which you’d be taken to the ER in nothing other than a t-shirt and your panties might come true.

“I’m not gonna drop you babe.” His words were surprisingly soft against your skin, running across your cheekbones to whisper into your ear. You pull back from where you’d been resting your head against his shoulder, surprised look pulling a laugh from his lips and a quick kiss to your nose. “Despite how much I might dislike you being a know-it-all, I don’t really care enough to land my ass in jail.” Previously you would have been hard pressed to think of anything that ruined a sweet moment but that definitely did it.

It took you a few goes to actually find a room that wasn’t occupied, leaving you with a bright blush as you saw a bit too much of a bit too many people. Jongin didn’t let you live, instead scoffing as you did finally find a room, “If you’re embarrassed by that sweetie then maybe we shouldn’t do what we abouta do.” His smirk was fair too natural on his face and you couldn’t help but feel a little indignant about how goddamn confident he was about whatever it was that lay ahead of you.

The floor was carpeted, you discovered as your toes touched down, sinking into the shag, reminding you briefly of some distant relative’s house you’d only visited on the odd holiday. Fabric tugging against your back drew you back to the present however as you felt your shirt being pulled upwards.

While you had no doubts about who was pulling the shirt you still turned on the spot, if just to enjoy the look on his face all was finally revealed. “Wow.” it was mumbled, the same way he would whisper those insults after your arguments had already ended, though this time it was tinged with awe rather than spite. “Who would have known that under all those sweatpants and baggy shirts you actually had some curves?” It was amazing that while he was undressing you he still had the capacity to sling jibes fearlessly, as if there wasn’t a real risk of sex being swept completely off the table.

His self-righteous smirk muted itself as you stepped forwards, swaying your hips, one eyebrow raised, perfectly aware of just how alluring you were to him. “Keep acting like you don’t wanna jump my bones sweetie, see where it gets you.” You fire back, expression unchanging as you take a hold of his hands, pulling them to come and rest against your hips. “Go on, have a taste.” Cheesy as it is, you bite the air in front of you, reminiscent of those old pre-code Hollywood movies, racy but with the right level of old-fashioned.

Jongin doesn’t hesitate in taking up your offer, pushing to forth until your knees hit the back of the bed, stopping before he completely pushed you over. “As you wish.” he growls against your lips, trailing the tips of his fingers across your bare skin before finally tucking under the strap of your bra.

Your eyes narrow, your gaze dragging across his brow, taking in the tiny beads of sweat and strands of hair that had fallen forwards, drawing his face. “God you take your time, hurry your ass up man.” His eyes flash wide in the brief moment between the words leaving your lips and you grabbing his shirt, turning and pressing him against the bed.

It’s easier like this, you straddle your legs over his waist, smirking as you feel the relatively obvious evidence of his arousal. Rolling your hips it doesn’t take long before you earn a response from his, a reciprocal roll and a unanticipated moan that slips passed before he can stop it. High on your success your hands quickly make their way to the hem of his shirt, pulling impatiently and thankfully he catches on; assisting by sitting up and pulling the shirt off himself. “They say—“ Your finger against his lips cuts off his train of thought.

“I don’t care what they said unless it’s about how good you’re gonna fuck me.” If one’s eyebrows could detach from their face it probably would have happened to Kim Jongin in that moment; or certainly the next as you set your attention on undoing his pants. It was vaguely amusing to watch the surprise flit across his face in spite of every sign that things had been going this way for a relatively long time. “You do want do this right? Like you haven’t drunk or anything right?” You check in quickly, remembering that they were indeed at a frat party and you weren’t about to be caught out doing some dubious consent shit.

Suddenly you feel wide hands settle against your back, quickly moving to find where the hooks holding your bra on are. “Fuck yes I’m down to fuck.” This time the words sound a little more punched out, and paired with the roll of his hips upwards you don’t doubt their truth for a second. “…and no, I stopped drinking at these things second semester of Freshman year.”

His encouragement is enough to edge you forwards until your lips are pressing together, resulting in you leaning forwards rather awkwardly while he still desperately tried to undo your bra. After another minute or so you finally snap, batting his hands away with your own, finishing the task with efficiency that surprised even you. “Shut up and help me get your pants off.” the words are paired with a look as his jaw still hung slack with a vague amazement at your completion of something he’d been stuck with. “You know, as tempting as it is to keep the witty banter up? I’m just a little too horny to keep it up.” you say, looking down at him from your position on his lap, elbows holding you aloft, stopping your faces from slamming together in what would be a rather embarrassing occasion.

“Agreed.” is his rather enthusiastic response as a muscular hand comes around to loop your waist before you roll over and all inhibitions fall by the way side, hormones and endorphins rolling through the air in waves. Jongin works with an almost robotic efficiency, stripping down to his own underwear and throwing his pants in the same general direction your bra landed in.

Whispered curses are all you really hear as he makes his way down your body, kissing here and there but never enough that it’s truly affectionate. Kim Jongin seems to have perfected the art of turning a woman on without there being any true feelings, not that you really minded; his touch was divine.

It is without realising that your breath becomes nothing more than gasped syllables and begged requests as his fingers tease you through your panties, rubbing, pressing but never really giving you what you want. “I swear to christ Kim Jongin if you don—“ your threat is cut off as it becomes meaningless and his fingers slip inside the now semi-damp cloth, giving you what you wanted in a way that made you question if you really wanted it. “…yes.” you groan as his calloused thumb gathers just enough wetness before pressing and teasing against your clit; resolving any doubts you had about his level of experience.

There is no response from him, instead you begin to feel teeth scraping just above the panty line; square on your hip. You’re too distracted by the 10/10 word that he’s doing with his hands to wonder why exactly he’s attempting to give you a hickey but you’re sure as hell open to appreciating the effort.

His efforts must have been realised when his lips moved from their task on your hip back to their previous trailing across your body. You’re rewarded a few kisses to your navel before he slips a finger in, testing the waters, waiting for the moans that would encourage his endeavours. Encouragements spill passed your lips only to be silenced as he abandoned the task of exploring your body with his lips, instead choosing to focus exclusively on your face.

A simple rhythm establishes itself between you two, his fingers slide with the roll of your hips and his hips roll against your thigh while you mutually explore mouths. Tongues tasting where some of your most stinging criticisms had come from, seeing if any of the poison could actually be detected.

Impatience does eventually take root in Jongin’s movements, his hand slows in the rhythm and the other haphazardly begins to seek out the drawer that you’d spied briefly after you’d been walked into the room. “Lemme get it.” you grunt, twisting awkwardly and pulling the drawer open, eyes widening at your see at least ten condoms waiting for you.

“Junmyeon wanted everyone to be safe so he supplied condoms.” Jongin’s voice is nonchalant against your bare shoulder, his arm lazing across your waist.

“Yeah, but? How many rounds are people going? Even girls get sore after about 5 goes.” You look on puzzled for about another ten seconds before Jongin snatches a medium size, smirking as he tucks his face close to your ear.

“Babe, there’s different sizes. Lot’s of variety in college.” He says it as if he’s teaching you something that you would have never known otherwise and you smirk right on back.

“Didn’t we say no more witty banter? Take off your boxers.” His eyes meet yours and there is a moment of mutual understanding before he silently begins to follow. Tearing open the condom packet before once again throwing another layer of clothing into the corner that seemed to have the designated spot for briefly abandoned clothing.

You steal the condom from where it laid against what appeared to be clean sheets, readying it in your hand before you rolled it on, giving him a few preparatory tugs before shrugging and looking up at him. “Not bad.” he shoots you a look as if to remind you of the agreement you’d made just moments before. You nod letting him know that you understand before you straddle his hips again.

It wasn’t that you had anything against missionary position. Actually no, you did, girl on top was just better in any and all respects.

You take a moment before sliding down, holding his dick steady to make sure that you didn’t miss or any of that equally mundane stuff that never happened in porn. “…fuck!” your voice turned to a moan as you bottomed out, Jongin giving you a moment to get used to it before he rolled his hips experimentally.

It had been a long time since your eyes rolled back at the first thrust and you couldn’t pinpoint why they did but the tug of Jongin’s hand was enough for you to stop thinking about it. His pace didn’t slow down, forcing you to fall forwards, bracing your forearms on each side of his head as Jongin rolled forwards, eyes locked with yours.

The pull of your hair stung but the way that Jongin’s teeth were gritted and his lids drooped across his eyes was enough to edge you into enjoying the pain. Your position was such that with each hard thrust your hips would bump for a brief moment, almost electric static running straight to your heart, shocking it with each touch.

Everything descended into darkness as your eyes fell shut as Jongin flipped the position. The sheets felt cool, crisp against your too heated skin as his mouth came to rest on the hollow of your neck. “You like it hard like me.” His growl ran deep, piercing your stomach as he rolled his hips insistently, hands closing over your hips to stop your reciprocal roll. “Lemme do the work baby.” The words came out husky, a puff of almost fresh air before he thrust again, reminding you of just how hard it was to not beg.

It only took a few more thrusts and bites to your collarbone to degrade any and all restraint you had left. “…please!” it comes out as more of a whine than a word and Jongin knows exactly what to do. You feel one of the hands that was holding your hip let go and, despite the anticipation of where it was going welling in your stomach, you still missed the touch. His fingers splayed above your clit, leaving you waiting, until his thumb pressed insistently against the sensitive nub. In spite of every neuron telling you to not arch with such ease your body disobeyed, back arching till every inch of your front pressed against his.

Cool air hit your belly before you realised what had happened. Jongin’s eyes were further away now, dragging across every inch of your body, if not paying special attention to your chest. It was a tick at the corner of his mouth that acted as a precursor to the graze of his left thumb against your nipple. Sucking in a sharp breath your brows knitted together as your gazes met once again before he did it again, this time the hand belonging to the thumb settling around the breast as a whole.

So it continued on, his hand on your breast squeezing, rolling, teasing as he continued on with his thumb on your clit, rubbing in time with each thrust. Occasionally you would be rewarded with an extra press by his right thumb, usually right before he thrust, resulting in your desperate arch meeting his lustful thrust.

Soon after your initial beg they became a regular chant, tumbling from your lips almost on instinct rather than conscious intention. Your words were occasionally met with curses from Jongin but more often than not they fell on deaf ears, the other too busy working for the moans he was earning from you.

In spite of your determination to withhold his name from your lips in bed you could feel the syllables, on your tongue, forming in tandem with the warmth pooling in your stomach, rolling downwards with each insistent thrust of your bed partner. His name came in stuttered gasps, falling off your lips as you came, the rhythm falling into a disorganised mess of moans, arches and thrusting.

Jongin’s eyes darkened as he looked down at you, more pupil than iris, were it any other situation you’d be scared but instead you took pleasure in how…other he looked. Rather than whispering the usual sweet nothings to him you curl a lip, scanning his face before flipping the position over again.

This time you regained control, rolling your hips hard and fast, watching as Jongin’s eyes fluttered shut and his hips stuttered to keep up. “Let go. I’ve got you now.” You whisper the words with a hard edge, flicking your hips before leaning forwards, bringing your lips together harshly, neither of you entirely sure how to make them fit together.

“Jongin. Jongin. Jongin.” You chant against those lips, punctuating each time with another roll of your hips and kiss. His hands had once again found their way to rest in your hair, tugging still but less insistently, more to make sure that you weren’t going to pull away. The fourth time you said his name it was more moan than word — “Jongin!” — and you didn’t miss the way his hips truly stuttered this time and his head fell backwards.

Taking the way his hands fell slack in your hair as a good sign you roll your hips once more before you feel the aborted thrust and Jongin’s mouth falls slack. “Fuuuuucckkkk” a scoff escapes your mouth at how he draws out the word and a smirk of satisfaction crosses your face.

Climbing off him you then take care to take and tie off the condom. His hand catches yours as you move to climb out of bed to drop it into the toilet. “I’ve got it.” His face is warm with the afterglow of a fairly good orgasm (not to toot your own horn or anything). You grant him a nod and he takes it between his index finger and thumb. He drags the sheet with him as he ventures towards the bathroom and were it not for the quilt you would have resented him a little.

After pulling the warmth of the blanket up and around your waist you glance up, trying to take a stock of where your clothes were, having not really notice where they’d been thrown in your haste. Your search was instead blocked by a decidedly naked Kim Jongin standing beside the light switch looking entirely too smug for his own good.

“Hate sex is the best sex.” And with that the lights clicked off.

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If anything your opinion about missionary had changed.

i'm setting up commissions because i am a poor university student and i want to not be poor! commision me here

#kai x reader #exo fic #smut #pwp #hate sex

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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if i can hold him

Zhang Yixing can’t order a coffee without some significant charades work and it just so happens that Byun Baekhyun loves charades.

The fic in which Student!Yixing is oddly attracted to a certain rather violent barista.

Scrolling through an AU page on twitter I saw ‘language gap AU’ and I was like: well for what pairing could I write this for other than Baekxing?

Rendez-vous

Look out on to the Han River, soak in the atmosphere and drink some of the best coffee you’ve had in quite sometime!

~welcome~

Yixing only really understood a grand total of…three(?) words that were scrawled on to the board. His understanding of the passage probably would have been enhanced if the words hadn’t been scrawled so messily, it certainly leant itself to the vibe of the café but not so much to the legibility — especially for foreigners. He wasn’t even going to touch the fact that the café’s name was written in French.

Still, a quick look across the menu that was pasted on the inside of the window told him that at least their prices were decent enough and he’d actually be able to scrape by when ordering without needing too much Korean. It wasn’t that he was avoiding learning the language, if he was he wouldn’t be taking extra language courses on top of his extra workload, it was just that he was tired. Hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder he glanced inside once more before quickly manoeuvring into the opening foyer, he’d been beginning to look odd standing alone outside on the pavement.

“Welcome~!” came the cheery greeting from someone that looked like he could still manage to be bored while snowed under with customers. Even if he wasn’t that great at holding a conversation yet Yixing never liked to be rude and replied with a warm smile and a wave.

The quick glance over the café that he was afforded in the moments it took for him to reach the counter to order told him that either they weren’t very popular or he’d just come at the wrong time. “We’re more popular around breakfast, people come for a French breakfast and coffee.” Luckily he wasn’t forced to decipher satoori, a task that had tripped him up more than once, and Yixing was able to guess that people liked their breakfast dishes — but not much else.

He’d decided what he’d wanted before he’d even walked into the shop, and had felt mildly relieved when he’d seen that they did indeed have it on their menu, thankful that he wouldn’t have to walk further away from the campus than he already was. It wasn’t that there weren’t coffee shops closer, just that he’d been told by some of his classmates that they weren’t as good but gouged their prices up, knowing doggedly tired students would pay. He hadn’t heard anything about this place and was hoping that it was because they at least gave you what you paid for.

“I’d like an iced americano, please.” his words hung shaky in the air, a mix of pronunciations and languages finding themselves tumbling off his tongue. The actual beverage was said in English since he wasn’t confident enough in his Korean to transliterate it and the rest was a Mandarin strangled version of Korean. Yixing opened his mouth as if to offer a further clarification of what he meant to say but a quick glance at the way the server’s brows were knitted together told him that was a bad idea. So, instead of actually saying anything he just clamped his mouth shut, smiling awkwardly and trying his best to not look as desperately tired as he was.

Bless him the server held up a finger for a moment before pottering off to the back of the shop. Yixing momentarily thought that he’d been left alone since he was too difficult to actually assist, and really he wouldn’t have blamed the server if that was what he’d done. A breath of relief did push passed his lips though when the man came back, smiley as ever with a menu held in his hand. “Which one?” a prayer of thanks settled in Yixing’s heart as he actually understood what the man was saying and he was able to scan the words with confidence in what he was actually meant to be doing.

He spotted the words ‘Iced Americano’ written in hangul he could actually read and pointed to it quickly, happy about the fact that he might actually be getting precious caffeine into his system. “Ahhh iced americano!” Yixing listened to him, mentally noting the way that he said the words, hoping that he’d actually be able to remember them at a later date. “Okay~!” The perky affirmation pierced through his concentration and Yixing couldn’t help the relieved smile that flooded his face when he looked up at the man — dimples and all.

“Thank you.” it was one of the only phrases that Yixing was totally sure on, and this was the first occasion that he’d felt it with such sincerity.

A mega-watt smile filled the other’s face, only broken for him so say, “It’s okay. You did good.” before moving back to ringing up Yixing’s order. The math of trying to figure out what notes and coins he needed to slide across the counter served as a welcome distraction to the way that Yixing’s ears were positively burning.

Whether it was the praise or the smile that gave him the blush, Yixing wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

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“Baekhyun. My name is Baekhyun.” Yixing struggled stifle laughter as the voice rose over the top of the looming coffee machine, well aware that the person standing behind it could and would be aggressive if he felt his honour demanded it.

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It was a unpleasantly warm, and yet, wet lunchtime when Yixing first saw the true strength of Baekhyun’s wrath.

All the noises of the café had pretty much melted into nothing about ten minutes after he’d sat down with his drink. It’d become his routine to visit the little café each afternoon, buying himself his daily dose of afternoon caffeine and saying hello to Baekhyun. Routine was where he felt safest, especially after his move to Korea, so Rendez-vous was soon where you would find Yixing.

It was the slam of a fist against the counter that drew him out of the reverie that was language notes and self-recitation. “Whaddaya mean ‘no’? I’m asking you out Pretty Boy.” Yixing couldn't really understand what the man was saying because he spoke in a heavy satoori but the tone wasn’t pleasant and the fear that flitted across Baekhyun’s face set his teeth on edge. Scanning the café told him there weren’t many people around and he knew for a fact that the manager had gone out to an all afternoon meeting ten minute before he’d arrived.

“I mean ‘no’. I don’t want to go on a date.” Baekhyun’s voice slipped a little here and there but Yixing actually understood what he was saying. It was strange to piece together a situation from one side’s words but he tried the best he could, he owed it to Baekhyun. There was still a counter between the two so Yixing wasn’t too worried but he watched the man carefully, wary of his superior height to Baekhyun’s.

Yixing couldn’t actually see the man’s face but he was sure that if he could there would be a sly smirk pressed firmly on to his lips. “I don’t really take no for an answer sweetcheeks.” He still couldn’t decipher what the man was saying but there was an upset look in Baekhyun’s eyes that Yixing entirely didn’t like and he was forced out of his chair. The scraped of the legs against the hardwood floor drew the unwelcome man’s attention to him — Yixing would be scared had he not seen the look of relief on Baekhyun’s face.

The moment that those narrowed eyes settled on his face Yixing could feel every ounce of knowledge he had about the Korean language leave his brain and there was only Mandarin left over. “Leave.” He tried his best to keep his voice even and gaze steady, it didn’t do to look like he was wavering in his demand. “He doesn’t like you. Leave.” At this point he’d forgotten how to even conjugate with honourifics and while he knew that it would be problematic in any other situation; the fear that was palpable in the air spurred him on without care.

A chill settled into his bones as the man stepped forwards, apparently unperturbed by the fact that Yixing was taller than him. “So? I like him.” The insistent satoori still hung in his words and Yixing was forced to shoot a desperate look at Baekhyun, hating that he needed to call on the other for help when he was supposed to be defending him.

Baekhyun’s look wasn’t upset, nor did he shake his head in a denial of the assistance Yixing so gravely needed, instead he shot him a smile that warmed Yixing’s heart. “He can’t speak Korean.” fear shook the already thin voice of the barista, prompting anger to thrum through his body. While the intruder’s body stayed facing Yixing, his head spun to look at Baekhyun, “at least not well. He can’t understand satoori, anyway! So just speak normally okay?” his gaze ran straight through the man that stood between them and their eyes met, if only for a moment.

Clearly the guy wasn’t too impressed with Baekhyun’s interjection and a withering huff of air puffed out in front of him. “I don’t like it when you talk too much.” he grunted, lips curled and contempt out on full display, prompting a well of anger to rush up to Yixing’s mouth, loosening his tongue and mind.

“Get away. He doesn’t like you. He…” his broken Korean trailed off as his and Baekhyun’s gazes met once again and he suddenly became sure of what he wanted to say. “He likes me. I’m here for date.” A courage that he didn’t totally have steadied his voice and stride as he stepped forwards, aiming to end up at Baekhyun’s side. His stride was instead interrupted by an arm that was decidedly not Baekhyun’s swinging out in front of him, slamming into his chest with an unpleasant thwack.

That right there was when Baekhyun snapped.

Yixing hadn’t fallen to the ground or anything too drastic, but his chest did hurt and he needed to take a moment to rub where the fist had met with the rather determined pace he’d picked up. “How. Fucking. Dare. You?” Yixing had been around enough classmates during finals to pick up the swear word and felt a sense of amusement pulling his lips as he heard Baekhyun bite out each word. “I said no, you pervert!” The end of his sentence was punctuated as Baekhyun swung a fist up and slammed it across the, still unnamed, man’s face. The small barista didn’t stop there, continuing on with his attack until the man doubled over, still internally registering that what was once his prey had turned to predator. “Get out!”

A perverted sense of satisfaction settled into Yixing’s bones as he realised that he understood every single word of Baekhyun’s spew of anger.

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So, rather than defending anyone all Yixing got for his efforts was to be sat on the side of the Han River with a surprisingly tentative barista checking if he was fine. He really was okay, as he kept insisting, but his broken Korean skills weren’t helping his case. They’d been sat on the side of the river for a good half an hour and all they’d gotten were ‘knowing’ looks and concerned gazes. People had been whispering but either Baekhyun couldn’t hear them or he wouldn’t dumb down what they were saying — Yixing just hoped that his ignorance was bliss.

It’s the third time that Baekhyun has gotten up to walk around him once more when Yixing repeats a tired “I’m really fine.” the defiance lost from his voice long ago. He’d been feeling rather deflated since he’d seen Baekhyun’s bruised knuckles, clearly he hadn’t been holding his hand properly when he’d punched and clearly he’d punched the wrong spot. “Hands.” he said meekly, pointing to the blossoming blue tinge to the skin, pausing for thought as he tried to remember what word would be best to say. “Dad…” he trailed off as he watched the confusion settle on to Baekhyun’s face.

Yixing was about to ask what he’d done wrong and was forming the sentence in his head when realisation dawned across Baekhyun’s face. “Ohhhhhhhhh!” a laugh rumbled up through his chest, shaking his shoulders like they did whenever they finally figured out what Yixing wanted to order in the mornings or afternoons. “Hurts. That’s what you meant.” he explained, flashing an eye smile that Yixing, privately, wouldn’t mind seeing more often. “The words um…” Baekhyun’s line of sight directed him to the other side of the river and Yixing was tempted to follow, in case he was missing out on something. “…ah! The words sound the same.” his reverie was broken and Yixing realised he’d been looking at the other’s side profile the entire time, just in time to bring his eyes back to his own lap before Baekhyun caught him.

Nodding slowly he pieced the words together, thinking he understood what Baekhyun meant and he took a moment to repeat the words to himself, trying to tell the difference between the way they sounded. After a few moments he decided that he’d have to rely on context to back him up at any future points. “Your hands, sore.” and while he wasn’t entirely sure that he had all the right sentence placements in there Baekhyun’s cursory glance to his knuckles told him that he’d been understood; which was all the really mattered in the end — at least until he had to sit an exam. “Sore?” Yixing hoped the upwards inflection was enough to indicate his worry.

Baekhyun flexed his fingers and Yixing didn’t miss the way that a wince flickered across his face as he did so. “Yeah. Sore.” clearly Baekhyun saw no reason to lie and Yixing was thankful, offering an apologetic smile to the other, if he hadn’t gotten involved there wouldn’t be any reason for Baekhyun to be hurt. Awkward silence hung above their heads for a moment more before being broken by the sound of Yixing’s feet scraping against the rain loosened soil, he was trying to decide if he wanted to get up or not. His hesitation was broken by the words, “Thank you. For um…helping.” Baekhyun’s sincerity shone through and paired with his smile it was enough to drive Yixing to his feet.

In the hopes that it would be of help, Yixing bent forwards, offering his arm as a support to Baekhyun so that he didn’t have to use his hands more than really required. “…me…because of me…your hands…” He hated the way that he had to drag each sentence out as he searched for the words and hated even more when they didn’t even form a proper sentence. His self loathing was eased somewhat by the warm smile that his words garnered from Baekhyun, a repeat of the eye smile that he silently promised himself he’d see more of no matter what.

“No! It’s um…my…” Baekhyun broke off his sentence to pat his chest with emphasis.

“Pfft I know ‘my’!” Yixing said faux upset, pushing Baekhyun’s shoulder playfully before scrambling in apology as he realised it might hurt.

An embarrassed smile cracked across Baekhyun’s face and he nodded in understanding, “Okay~ it was my anger.” he paused for thought before swinging his arm out in a demonstrative punch. “Not good okay?” Yixing stifled a laugh for a moment before nodding, eyes still shut as he swung his arm up and over Baekhyun’s shoulder, breaking out into laughter soon after.

They stopped by a pharmacy that Yixing had spotted on the walk to the spot that where they’d wound up sitting. While they got some odd looks in the store Yixing had a feeling it was either because he didn’t speak Korean or the rapid way Baekhyun’s knuckles were swelling up — or both. Yixing did want to help Baekhyun pick out the soothing ointment but the best he could do was say ‘cold’ and hope for something good to come of it. Bless him, Baekhyun tried his best to grasp what he was saying and pointed to what Yixing could only guess were all the cooling ointments.

A few moments passed and they eventually found a brand that Yixing recognised, earning a furious nod of his head and a hurried, “This one! This one!”. The shopkeepers’ and pharmacists’ laughs echoed around the small space, Baekhyun simply gave him an appreciative smile and nod as he plucked the product off the shelf, dropping it into the basket they’d picked up at the entrance.

Watching Baekhyun’s bruised digits clench around the basket Yixing knew that they still hurt and the little shake his hands gave assisted his case in no way. “I’ll…do it.” Yixing hoped that his nod towards the basket was enough. A flick of hair hit the side of his cheek as Baekhyun’s fringe jumped along with the sudden lift of his head, the touch serving as a reminder of how close they truly were. Yixing stepped back apologetically, jolting forwards once again as his back hit the display. “Ah, sorry! sorry!” the first apology was mostly for Baekhyun while the second was for the concerned onlooking staff.

Fingers brushed against the curve of Yixing’s jaw. “It’s okay.” Baekhyun said, and for a moment it felt like they were the only ones in the room, “Thank you.” Yixing wasn’t entirely sure what he was referring to until the basket pumped his chest, bringing him back to the words he’d said just moments earlier. Nodding his closed his fingers around the handle just beside Baekhyun’s, wincing as he watched the other tentatively move his fingers to let go. Brows knotting together Yixing’s gaze followed the movement of Baekhyun’s hand back to his side; clearly his thoughts were obvious and Baekhyun piped up with a perky “Yah~ I’m okay, let’s just…go.” While Yixing did want to protest it wasn’t really up to him to dictate how Baekhyun was meant to feel things so he just let it go, hoping the other wasn’t faking just for pretences.

Making the purchase took them longer than Yixing would have liked, since he wouldn’t let Baekhyun help him with the monetary exchange like he usually would have if he was ordering a coffee. “Thank you!” he said, accent lilting in his words as they left the pharmacy, shopping bag swinging in his hands, relieved that he’d be able to help Baekhyun soon. As soon as they left the hole-in-the-wall establishment his attention immediately shifted to the man by his side, “Sit down.” he directed, pointing towards a cement bench as if to emphasise his point. Baekhyun followed along, shooting him a questioning look, even opening his mouth to serve him with some sort of sass before rethinking and snapping it shut with a sheepish smile up to Yixing.

He sat down. “Thank you.”

Concrete hard and cool against his back Yixing settled beside Baekhyun, watching as the dust motes of a summer afternoon bounced off his cheekbones, nose and chin. “Sore?” he asked, sniffling as he rustled around in the bag, smile curling on his lips as Baekhyun laughed. Eventually drawing straight with the tube of balm cool in his hands, it was his turn to laugh. “Still, okay?” Baekhyun closed his eyes and nodded, offering his hands, pain shaking them just a touch and Yixing had to wonder just how badly he’d hurt his hands defending him. Squeezing the ointment on to his right index finger it was but a moment before he was smoothing the creme across the raised knuckles of Byun Baekhyun. “Good?” he asked, unsure and voice wavering as his left hand held Baek’s steady, ensuring that he’d completely covered the sore spots.

Satisfied that he’d applied enough balm Yixing bent forwards, rummaging around for the pressurising bandage the pharmacist had recommended as they’d asked for some pain killers. A hand, gentle more for the owner’s sake than his, settled on his back, began to draw sweeping patterns along his shoulder blades. “Thank you.” The words were bit out, like he had something further to say but Yixing was afraid to ask, instead he stayed bent over, appreciating the gently touch. “For trying. Everyday. Everyday you try, and thank you.” Yixing was glad that his face was buried in the bag as the tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you.” holding back a smile he returned to his original position, tears still where they hung in the limbo between falling and not existing.

Not saying anything seemed to be the simplest thing to do, so Yixing did just that. Quietly unravelling the bandages he kept his eyes glued on the flesh coloured cloth, trying to remember the way his mother had wound his hands after his wushu lessons. It was difficult to hold his hands steady as he wound the fabric gently around Baekhyun’s hands, watching as the ointment soaked into the first layer. “It’s nothing.” He said the words before he even realised that he’d spoken, and flinched a little once it sunk in that he had. It felt like he’d burst the bubble that had settled around them after Baekhyun has spoken. “You’re happy.” a chuckle bubble from his lips as the acknowledgement shredded any hesitation that had settled around his heart. “That’s why I try.” They started looking into each other’s eyes half way through the sentence and it was on the last word that they started smiling simultaneously.

Yixing was forced to blink as the huff of laughter that escaped Baekhyun’s lips fluttered against his eyes and cheeks, reminding him on the breezes that he’d feel on his walks to the café. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Discontent settled once again into his heart as Yixing realised he didn’t understand anything that Baekhyun said, the other must have recognised the face he pulled, brows knitting together in the way that they only did when he was thinking. A smirk settled on Baekhyun’s face and Yixing was only a little (read: very) shocked by what Baekhyun said next. “I like you Zhang Yixing.” It was perhaps a little lovesick that the thing that made him happiest was the way that Baekhyun said his name.

The tears that had been waiting to fall fell in that moment and Yixing hurried to assure Baekhyun that he wasn’t upset. “I like you too, Byun Baekhyun.” was the only thing that made the other man quiet enough for the purpose of allowing Yixing to wrap his hands. He caught a glimpse of Baekhyun’s smile a couple of times as he paused to figure out what move he was meant to make next. “Done. Thank you.” he whispered as he drew his hands back to his side and he paused to ponder what he was meant to do now that they’d said what they’d both been thinking.

Baekhyun did his thinking for him, cushioned hands coming to rest along his jaw and pulling him forward until both their lips met, and Yixing’s world suddenly came into focus. In the moments before his eyes slipped shut sounds sharpened and colours deepened, brightening all at once and he had to wonder on what he’d been missing out all his life. Defying the instinct that was telling him to grab a hold of Baekhyun’s hand and link their fingers together, Yixing’s hands fell upon Baekhyun’s waist, tugging him closer.

They stayed like that for a moment or three and breaths came hard and fast between them once they broke apart. “That was good.” Yixing spoke in Mandarin, dimples revealing themselves as he realised and watched the confusion flicker across Baekhyun’s face. Tapping his fingers against Baekhyun’s back he decided against explaining, instead pressing a quick peck to Baekhyun’s lips to cement a point he’d made only to himself. Relaxation oozed into Baekhyun’s shoulders and Yixing could feel his gaze on his jawline as he gathered up their things from the pharmacy.

“Let’s go.” Yixing said, smoothing a hand over Baekhyun’s back before standing and looking down at him. Baekhyun followed, offering him a simple nod rather than words in agreement, an unsure content hanging in the air between them.

And if they held hands on the way back to the café? Well that was just how it was.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

They were still talking after the kiss. Yixing just didn’t come into the café. Texts were slowly answered and calls were virtually never answered.

Yixing’s lack of communication with him was why he was where he was now: on the Seoul University campus, completely lost and confused as to why the campus looked like a ghost town. Sure, there were a few passing students and professors that each looked like they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of sleep in the last few weeks. Finally at about the third person that passed him Baekhyun snapped with worry, Yixing’s promise of another meeting outside of work echoing in the back of his head. Reaching out he caught the arm of the student, bowing apologetically as they turned him with eyes more filled with tiredness than the irritation he was expecting.

“Excuse me? Why is the campus so empty?” his voice was shaky and he didn’t bring his eyes up to meet the other’s just quite — he would have bothered were they shorter but not when they were that tall.

The cheery note to the other’s voice surprised him, a pleasant refresher in a sea of faces that looked like they would rip his head off should he bother them. “It’s finals dude. I’m guessing you’re not a student? You look like you’ve had way too much sleep to be studying.” Everything clicked in his head and Baekhyun raised his gaze in surprise.

In a flash he realised he was still holding the student’s arm, letting go and mumbling the appropriate response as he stepped back. “Ah no, I own this café down by the river.” He admitted, thinking that the other knew his profession if he knew he was a student. Logical? No. Polite? Yes.

“Oh~” The student had fully stopped now, holding his books close to his chest as he looked down at the other, drumming his fingers along their spines. “Wait. Rendez-vous?” His face lit up as he said it and Baekhyun momentarily forgot why he was even in the university. It was always nice to have his little place recognised, even if it was just by a not-so small university student.

He nodded, shuffling his feet a little, “Yeah, that’s my place. Do you come there often?” A small piece of his mind told him he should be finding Yixing but another one told him that if he had finals then it wouldn’t hurt to have a chat while he was most likely in an exam.

A grin cracked across the other’s face and he nodded warmly, “Yeah, I go there with my boyfriend, Kyungsoo. We actually met there.” It was ironic (and Baekhyun wasn’t even sure he was using the word right) that someone had met his boyfriend there and goddamn Baekhyun could barely get someone to text back — and he owned the place. “It was recommended to me by a kid in my Law class though, I think his name is like ‘Yixiing’?” He had to admit it was an admirable effort and Baekhyun nodded for points.

It was a relief to hear Yixing’s name and Baekhyun jumped on the opportunity, almost unbelievably grateful that he’d managed to stumble across one of Yixing’s friends on his first go. “Oh? You know Yixing? Do you um, know what finals he has left? I’ve kind of been worrying about him a little.” Baekhyun teased at more information but didn’t want to tell more should Yixing not wanna apply any ~labels~ to their relationship. Like We-Kissed-Once was a label to take seriously.

“Wait are you that Baekhyun kid? Yixing talks about you all the time.” he sounded fed up but Baekhyun felt his heart swell, either in thanks, appreciation or embarrassment (he’d sort it out later.

“Yeah, I’m that Baekhyun kid.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his head, craning his neck to look at the man standing in front of him.

“Ah. Anyways, he said that he’s been looking forwards to seeing you once his exams are over.” the man said it as if they’d spoken about it a bunch of times, spoken about Yixing coming over after exams, cuddling in consolation, cuddling in celebration. Alas, Byun Baekhyun hadn’t been told. “Anyways, I gotta go. He’s got two today but,” the man paused to look at his watch, nodding in a silent confirmation before looking back up at Baekhyun, “I have a meeting with my boyfriend. I just finished my finals.”

Baekhyun nodded, waving goodbye to the student, making a note of his face to watch out for him in the café (he’d need to give him and his boyfriend at least one free drink). He stayed on his tip toes to wave to him until he rounded a corner before pulling his phone out and searching until he found Yixing’s number. He thought against sending him anything for the moment but the teasing profile photo full of dimples and eye crinkles was just too much for him to ignore.

He wasn’t ever going to tell anyone that that was when he put Yixing in his Favourites list.

[Sunshine Fairy]

I’ll be waiting outside the school. Congrats on finishing finals!

He didn’t get a response but did that really surprise him? No. Baekhyun respected the fact that while Yixing was probably finishing/finished his first final, he still needed to prepare for his second and get that last minute cramming of info into his brain.

In a whirlwind that almost had the Storm Chasers™ coming to get him Baekhyun stayed on campus — except he wasn’t wandering aimlessly this time. He had purpose. Each time he wandered into a shop with more goods that one would think were physically possible for a university student to by, Baekhyun stood out remarkably. Strangely enough? He didn’t really care what looks he got or the strange whispers that he got behind his back. If it made Yixing feel like smiling then he didn’t really mind, he’d step over hot coals for that.

4:30 is the exact hour and minute that Baekhyun ends up standing outside the entrances to the university — it would have been too bothersome for him to try and find Yixing, especially with the mess that would been students leaving rooms after exams.

4:43 is the exact hour and minute that Yixing steps through the broad gates and Baekhyun feels his heart clawing it’s way up to his chest, pulling long and deep cuts with each step Yixing takes, still unaware of what is waiting for him.

Baekhyun stood out like a sore thumb. A giant yellow ‘Happy Birthday’ balloon bobbed right beside his head, a bright bouquet nestled in his left arm and a chocolate box took control of his right hand. Still Yixing did not see him and it took a rather strained. “ZHANG YIXING!” to catch the glancing attention of the student. It was worth it, his smile beamed and Baekhyun was rewarded with those beautiful dimples he’d been smitten with since that fateful ‘Ahhh iced americano!’.

Yixing waded through the crowd, and Baekhyun was relieved more than anything when they were truly face to face, not a single body between them, the only thing blocking them from hugging being the giant bouquet of flowers in his hand. “You worked hard.” Baekhyun stuck with something simple because he knew it was one of the few things that he wanted to say that Yixing would still understand.

Their gazes after Yixing’s eyes rose from the blooms resting against Baekhyun’s chest. “You look beautiful.” Baekhyun opened his mouth to protest, to let him know that he didn’t need to stress himself thinking about what to say next, especially not right after his exams, but Yixing’s finger rose and pressed to his lips, silencing him. “You always look beautiful. You looked beautiful the day I met you. You looked beautiful everyday after that. Your beauty, inside and out, never ceases to surprise me.” It was only once Yixing had finished speaking that the finger on his lips was lifted and Baekhyun was allowed to extend the bouquet of flowers to it’s rightful owner.

Sniffling a little, and trying to convince himself that it was allergies from the flowers, Baekhyun had to accept that that was one of the corniest and most effective confessions he’d ever received. “Smile. Don’t cry.” came Yixing’s soft voice as he brushed tears that Baekhyun didn’t even realise he’d been shedding off his cheeks.

A halting laugh escaped his lips and Baekhyun pouted as he looked up at Yixing, sticking out his bottom lip as far as possible. “All I wanted to do was surprise you and congratulate you for finishing finals.” he whined, still sniffling as he managed to calm his crying down, aware of how stupid he must look.

His forehead tickled with the huff of laughter that hit his fringe and Baekhyun lifted his eyes to meet Yixing’s smiling face. “You did surprise me and you did congratulate me. I don’t have a gift though.” he feigned thoughtfulness and on cue Baekhyun lifted the chocolates, in a form of a bribe so his slip up was forgotten. “I don’t eat chocolate.” In a brief moment of shock Baekhyun thought about railing against the silly game that Yixing thought he would play but he didn’t mind a bit of play and it meant he got the chocolates all to himself. So, instead he tilted his head in faux thought, teasing out the ruse for a minute or so before smirking as he realised what Yixing wanted him to say.

“First date?” Baekhyun said, in Korean.

“First date.” Yixing said, in Mandarin.

And even though neither of them were quite fluent in the other’s language, they both knew what this certain phrase meant.

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

Text

a little? a lot.

Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung are caught breaking some rules they shouldn’t be and their solution isn’t exactly...the best. OR The fic in which Kim Taehyung, the current king of Wizarding Korea, finds himself in a rather sticky situation that leaves him enjoying the smile of a certain Slytherin a little too much.

AU// HP AU, royalty au, fake dating au

OKAY SO... Neither this fic nor my love of this ship would exist without the beautiful twitter user daeguholic. I promised this fic to her a long time ago and when she mentioned that it was her birthday, well I just couldn’t escape using the celebration as a justification for my procrastinating to actually write this for her. I know this is a mess of a bunch of different AUs and concepts but I think I pulled it together pretty well and I hope you all give it lots of love, even if I’m still a little unsure! I love you Meah and I hope you have an amazing birthday!

The wizarding world had always been a little disconnected from the outside non-magical societies - sure they mixed on occasion and there was some crossover in culture - it wasn’t like they spoke entirely different languages - but if you had any possession of magic, there was a high likelihood you were out of touch with the regular populus.

Distance from the general population was however; amplified in Kim Taehyung’s case.

The traditional Korean monarchy had died out with the Japanese invasion, unable to hide themselves from the invaders and falling to the hands of non-magical mortality.

A crown on Kim Taehyung’s head on his thirteenth birthday spoke to the fact that magical monarchy hadn’t gone the same way as their muggle counterparts.

Gems that weren’t even visible to those that didn’t have that silver sheen of magic running through their blood; and a gold that was more pure than the greatest scientists could even dream of; gleamed through the moving photograph. It had been a year since his coronation and the Queen Mother had sent him a package that would have probably arrived late were it not for the three letters that came before his name. It was a regular occurrence to have one’s mail lost if you were a boarder, or at least that was what Taehyung was told, not even the school’s poltergeist dared meddle with his letters.

While his station afforded him a freedom and opportunities that other students didn’t have, Taehyung rarely found it within himself to actually take advantage of them - even his marks were worse than some of his classmates. He still slept in the same dormitories with everyone else, and while it had afforded some contempt from his housemates at the increased security, overall his social life had fared all the better for the decision.

It was a cool winter afternoon and Taehyung wasn’t going to test fate by opening his dormitory window (whether it be a cold or the wrath of his roommates he was risking), so there wasn’t anything to ruffle his hair but he still ran his hand through it as if he was taming something other than the hair he had. It was hard being away from home, especially so since he’d been crowned King after his father had stepped down as a birthday ‘gift’ last year. Thing was, looking over the snow dusted grounds - Taehyung wasn’t totally sure that it was a gift he’d even wanted.

The first three years of his schooling at the South Korean Hogwarts International School had been marred by snowball fights, mischief making and general non-learning. Now, he was virtually always stuck in his room, not because the teachers were merciless or anything, but more because the legacy of his family (not to mention, nation) rested on his shoulder. Surprisingly, it became a lot harder to throw snowballs when you had the weight of nation on your shoulders — threw off your balance more than one would have previously guessed.

Right now even, he wasn’t even meant to be pining over a package that was nothing more than a reminder of what he’d become in the months since the last snowfall. He was meant to be doing the work on etiquette that’d had been crammed into his suitcase without his noticing. Technically it was a treasonable offence to be doing anything to his luggage but Taehyung knew it had been his mother so he’d not raised a fuss. A heavy sigh heaved into the air marked his getting up from the window seat, one last fleeting glance down to where Jimin was flinging charmed snowballs at his rather hapless (and uncoordinated) boyfriend Namjoon.

Envy did rise in his heart as he began to fish through the contents of his luggage, papers flying here and there as Taehyung searched more insistently for the articles explaining which way to set your chopsticks depending on the rank of who you were with. Such was his envy that he didn’t have time to register the black cloaked figure that had been a small dot on the horizon when he’d turned away from the window. Soon his envy was overshadowed by the sheer annoyance of not being able to find the sheet of paper he knew was in his trunk and he didn’t afford a second glance to the window to figure out exactly why the dot was getting larger.

Taehyung’s lack of awareness of his surroundings did not however, extend to the whistling sound of a blast spell rocketing through the air outside his window, nor to the racket of his windows flying open. Classical training in dance saved him from falling on his ass as he spun on the spot, clutching the book he’d been about to throw on to his desk to his chest. “What the FUCk!” If he was being honest, the real surprise to Taehyung was that he wasn’t the one cursing, instead it was the student tumbling through the window and hurtling into the fairly small dorm space. Time didn’t exist for him to echo the words, instead he dropped the floor to avoid the broomstick that was unwaveringly catapulting towards his very royal head.

The body that had been occupying the oaken branch had launched himself off the vehicle within moments of making it through the window and as such the remaining magical power that was propelling it forwards fell away, leaving it to feebly clatter against the wall behind them. While Taehyung was thankful to the gods that he, and the intruder, hadn’t obtained any injuries, his thankfulness didn’t overshadow the rage that anyone would feel at their private room effectively being broken into. This kid wasn’t a Ravenclaw and as such had no reason to be in this tower — that was unless this was a particularly ham-fisted attempt at picking up his date for a little quality time in the gardens at the back of the grounds.

“Don’t ask.” A gruff voice came from the slump on the floor and Taehyung was tempted to check if he was okay, especially considering he hadn’t actually moved since his rather bizarre entrance. Temptation did however give way to anger as Taehyung realised that the mint-haired non-Ravenclaw hadn’t used formal speech with him. Book from before still held tight across his chest, Taehyung chose instead, in a fit of irritation, to gently pelt it at the student’s back. A gentle ‘oof’ escaped into the air, and guilt immediately settled on to Taehyung’s shoulder, that hadn’t been nice, nor very diplomatic. His father would be disappointed in him.

Since he’d already tried the low road and tasting a bittersweet victory with the threat of a rather opinionated letter from his father hanging over his head, Taehyung instead decided to crouch down, and actually ask: “Are you okay?”. Strands of hair shifted on the boys fringe as he blinked and they caught on his eyelashes, and a faint relief flooded his body as it finally began to clink that no serious injuries had been obtained. “Do I need to go get the nurse or?” he left the question hanging in the air, intensely aware of the warning ‘Don’t ask.’ that he’d earnt earlier — hopefully though, that only applied to questions about why exactly there was a non-Ravenclaw and broomstick in his room.

Calloused hands caught on his wrist, breaking through Taehyung’s hurried thoughts of when and how the warning would be applied, hauling the student into a sitting position, furrowed brows and questioning eyes firmly holding his gaze. “You’re His Royal Highness Kim Taehyung. Aren’t you?” Again, there was no formal speech; it would have been amusing were it not for the fact that the guy had literally just recognised who Taehyung was. “Ah, before you ask: I’m not using formal speak because you’re younger than me, kid.” While the logic would pretty much apply to anyone other than him, Taehyung was curious as to why whoever this guy was, thought he could get away with it.

Petulant as it made him sound, Taehyung couldn’t help the huff of annoyance that dispersed into the air in front of him, burning cool with unbridled magic. “I’d watch what you’re saying. This is my room that you barged into. You should be being polite no matter who I am but considering I’m your king…” Taehyung left the sentence unfinished as he strode forwards, only realising now that despite their apparent difference in age, he was the taller one. “Now, apologise.” he grunted, mustering up all the masculine energy that he could recall his father exuding in the years he’d watched him rule. The finesse of an iron hand was lost in his pubescent voice though and instead Taehyung couldn’t blame the intruder for the smile that cracked across his features.

A right eyebrow quirked, inviting challenge before an almost inaudible, “Make me…” the guy trailed off but Taehyung knew he wasn’t done talking. “Your Highness.” The second word of his title was bit out and a smarmy smirk brought up the rear, reminding Taehyung that this guy didn’t care all that much about what station one held.

Kim Taehyung wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do to make this guy apologise to him and he was in the midst of formulating a plan on what he was meant to do with him when he heard Jimin calling from the bottom of the stairs. “TAETAE! LUNCH TIME!!” There was a brief question as to how Jimin was actually in the tower but when he seriously considered it, the most likely situation was that Namjoon had let him in the hopes of a quick make-out session before lunch. Nothing ever stopped Jimin when it came to food though. Once the situation actually clicked in his head Taehyung could palpably feel the disappointment rolling through the floorboards, like Namjoon was telepathically reminding him to hurry his ass up so he could at least get some time after lunch to mark Jimin up.

Working out what was actually going on proved to be his undoing and before he realised what was going Taehyung could hear thundering footsteps running up the stairs, a warning that came too late. It was honestly a feat that he didn’t get whiplash from how quickly he turned to look at the broomstick-invader, eyes wide and searching for an answer as to exactly what the fuck he was meant to do. “Shit.” Harsh and whispered, the guy’s curse came as a suitable answer to Taehyung’s non-verbal question and that was: neither of them had any idea of what they was meant to do.

Invader’s hands went to quickly smooth out his uniform, giving Taehyung enough time to catch the glint of silver and emerald green winding round his neck in the form of a tie. Great. A Slytherin. That wouldn’t look suspicious at all — it wasn’t like they even had any joint projects with that house this semester anyway.

Fuck. Shit. A reminding squeak came from just outside his door, letting Taehyung know that Jimin hadn’t slowed and was about to tumble through the door in that purely Jimin way that he had when intruding on one’s private business.

The lock clicked, an inevitable reminder of defeat and Taehyung turned his head to look at the student in desperation except this time, his face was far closer than he’d been expecting. A creak of the door came in unison with the creep of a hand along his shoulders, stopping where his arm began. “I got you.” Still — no formal speech but considering how many rules Taehyung was flexing at the moment, he wasn’t about to snap at him about it if he was offering the safe haven of an explanation.

“TAEEEEEE~~~~~~~” Taehyung (or Tae. or TaeTae.) felt Slytherin’s head hit the side of his gently with the flinch he gave with the noise and while he knew that Jimin could be loud, it did amuse him to see how people that weren’t used to it reacted to the behaviour. Caught up in the amusement it did take Taehyung a moment to recognise the awkward silence that had fallen across the cool room (he’d not even gotten the opportunity to shut his windows before shit went down). “Tae?” Jimin’s eyes weren’t wide in surprise, more narrowed to trace along the curve of Slytherin’s hand on his shoulder and the non-existent space between them.

Namjoon’s footsteps followed Jimin’s heavily, the taller Ravenclaw popping up behind his Hufflepuff beau. “Who is this?” the pair asked in unison, a habit that had started before they’d even gotten involved romantically and Taehyung would admit, got under his skin. A voice that wasn’t his broke through the silence and Taehyung felt the hand on his shoulder tighten in what he guessed was a reassurance as well as a sign to just trust rather than question. While he couldn’t promise anything about the second part, he was a Ravenclaw after all, Taehyung knew that the explanation would be flimsy without his support and that wasn’t something either of them needed at the moment.

“I’m Min Yoongi. Seventh Year Slytherin, and I’m Taehyung’s boyfriend.”

—————————————————————————

Slack jaws aside, Jimin and Namjoon were rather supportive and after the initial jubilation that Taehyung finally had a boyfriend (‘boyfriend’), they all agreed that it was better to keep things quiet.

Keeping things quiet didn’t really amount to much and it was within two or so weeks that the crowds began to part in ways that they only had when the royal procession dropped him off for the beginnings of the school years. He didn’t mind the added convenience of being able to get to his classes faster but it was obvious that people knew or at least thought they knew. Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung hadn’t actually spoken all the much since that fateful incident in his bedroom, brief conversations had occurred here and there if they’d passed each other in the dining hall but all in all — nothing. If anything, it was amusing to watch the rumours rage with an uncontrollable fury that wasn’t even quenched by substantial evidence, if anything, Taehyung would guess that the lack of interactions was fuelling the curiosity.

Perhaps in spite of the preoccupation the rumours had held in his mind for the last half a month, they were the last thing on his mind when he felt something hitting the side of his head — for Yoongi’s better health he decided to not actually think about what it was. A furtive glance at their surroundings told Taehyung that no one had actually seen the ploy to get his attention but that didn’t mean that there weren’t people waiting and watching to see what would unfold now the new IT couple were talking. “You know couples actually talk right?” Tae hated that the lack of respect got under his skin, he was meant to be a ~chill~ king (whatever that meant), so feeling himself slipping into a ‘superior’ mindset subconsciously was irritating.

Snapping himself from the reverie that came with his self-antagonism, Taehyung took a step off the path, grass bending beneath his shoes as he strode towards his fake-boyfriend. “I guess so, but then again we aren—“ he was cut off as Yoongi shot up from where he was sitting, tumbling into a nearby bush. Herbology wasn’t Taehyung’s best subject but off the top of his head, he would later recommend that Yoongi not try and get that book back. Those were some cuts Taehyung didn’t want anyone dealing with.

Yoongi’s finger was soft against his lips, landing with more force than was strictly necessary but clearly communicating that he wasn’t going to be moving it without some effort. “It’s not like we need to be found out anytime soon you…” Yoongi trailed off to trail his eyes up and down Taehyung’s frame before apparently deciding on a word, “…giraffe”. Offence would have been taken were it not for the accuracy of the nickname, at least in comparison to Yoongi. “If people, Jimin, find(s) out that I was in your room for any reason other than a quick make-out, he’s gonna accidentally dob me in.” Taehyung couldn’t argue with the logic and while it pained him to admit, he’d managed to get himself into a situation where he had to act like Min Yoongi didn’t irk the shit out of him.

This was where he would have opened up his mouth, retorting tightly but Yoongi’s finger was still pressed firmly against his lips with seemingly no intentions to leave. Irritated grunts managed to escape around the obstacle and it was with tense eyes that Kim Taehyung noticed his supposed boyfriend took pleasure in bothering him. He couldn’t decide between narrowing and widening his eyes and eventually did a combination of both until he was released with a low sort of chuckle bubbling from Yoongi’s chest, heavy with years Taehyung didn’t have and Yoongi didn’t appear to posses. “Generally boyfriends don’t go around pressing their fingers against each others lips to keep ‘em quiet.” Taehyung had decided to drop honourifics with Yoongi a while ago, but this had been his first opportunity to do so.

Dirt scuffed against Yoongi’s shoes as he shuffled backwards, that same old cocky smile resting on his lips, “Unless you’re kinky like that.” This time Taehyung did know what to do, his eyes flying open and hands coming up to rest over his mouth, covering where Yoongi’s finger had been minutes, if not moments, earlier. “Relax, kiddo. Everyone knows I don’t go that far on the first date.” Taehyung took a menacing step forwards, eyes narrowing above his hands, warning that Yoongi needed to watch his step if he didn’t want his very limbs rent from his body. “Then again, we’re dating, this is probably not the first date we’ve been on.” Accompanied by a wink, there was no way that Taehyung could have missed the implicated meaning. Social courtesies seemingly didn’t exist for the man standing in front him, a reminder of the stark difference in who they were and what they represented — a thought that was the only thing that kept Taehyung’s feet steadfast in their place.

It was a credit to Taehyung as a person that he didn’t ball his fists often, instead his extensive training had taught him to keep an even façade, even if it would have been understandable for him to lose it given the situation. Training be damned, while he’d not taken a step forwards, Taehyung was pissed, “Like I would do anything of the sort with you, Min Yoongi.” It was a low blow but let it be known that even kings were not above being complete and utter dickheads. Credit needed to go to Yoongi though, and instead of the reactionary response he was expecting to get, all Taehyung’s attack earnt him was a hearty chuckle and a raised eyebrow.

“Are you done?” Taehyung was surprised by the question and his lips puffed out in both a sigh but a search of the right words to reply, eventually he settled on the simple option and just nodded. The space between them had shrunk to a few paces and Yoongi closed them quickly before whispering a quick, “Good.” the word barely meeting Taehyung’s ears before his robes were being grabbed and yanked forward. Their lips met in the moment a complaint, an exclamation, a yelp, anything really, was about to leave Taehyung’s, the sounds instead being caught with the chapped reality of Min Yoongi.

A wet sort of oomph sound was the only thing that punctuated the kiss, flurried anger radiating from Taehyung and amused resignation rolling from Yoongi. Emotions meeting in the middle prompted a placation in the both of them that soon turned into a mutual appreciation of the sensation. Noses bumped as they both turned their heads to the same side, an issue addressed with the settling of Taehyung’s hands in Yoongi’s hair, tilting his head to the right and their mouths finally fitting. Words felt like they needed to be said but right now, in spite of every logical thought that was running through his head, Taehyung couldn’t find it within himself to pull away long enough to say them.

Yoongi was the one that pulled away first, notably not extracting himself from the true extent of Taehyung’s grip in his hair. “Tell me again about how you wouldn’t do that with me Kim Taehyung.” Grudgingly, he would have to admit that he would but it would probably take him having been pulled into it like he just had been or an awful lot of persuasion — instead of saying all these things, Taehyung only rewarded him with a grunt. “If that’s how you react whenever anyone shows you a good time, I can see why there aren’t exactly girls lining up around the block to suck you off at House parties.” Yoongi’s comment was scathing, enough to rival Taehyung’s now void statement from earlier — didn’t mean it was true though.

Derision filled his laugh as Taehyung finally released his tangled grip on Yoongi’s mint locks. “There’s no girls lining up because they know they wouldn’t be getting any. Boys, on the other hand, they’re a rather different story.” A cocky smile passed across his lips and he rather bravely returned Yoongi’s wink from earlier. His efforts aren’t ignored and he earns a pat on his shoulder from his kissing partner. It was only with the proximity to his eyes did Taehyung notice that Min Yoongi’s fingers weren’t clad in any gloves, and with nothing to protect them from the cold, they’d begun to turn a warning pink. Granted, Taehyung’s hands weren't covered but their encounter had begun with him leaving the safety of warm buildings.

Fingers met before he’d really thought through what he was doing and the response in Yoongi’s eyes was enough to confirm it hadn’t been the most thought out ideas in the world. It should have bothered him, how well their fingers fit together, but the chill that ran up his arm was enough to distract Taehyung from the surprised widening of Yoongi’s eyes. Guilt stabbed unrelentingly into his stomach as it became painfully obvious that the surprise wasn’t because it was Taehyung holding his hand, but because anyone was holding his hand. Worry brushed aside before he could really delve too deeply, Taehyung mumbled, “Since we’ve kissed now it’d look weird if I let you get frostbite wouldn’t it?” He could feel those surprised eyes on him once again but rather than replying he allowed their gaze to eat away at his thoughts as he slipped their intertwined hands into his robe pockets.

Taehyung couldn’t pin down a reason for the heat on his neck, whether it be in embarrassment at the incredibly sappy thing he’d just done or the possession of a certain short person’s attention. He found his answer with a furtive glance over and down, eyes suddenly resting on the gaze of Min Yoongi, tsundere extraordinaire and seeing one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever had the blessing of witnessing.

“It’s gonna be nice dating you Kim Taehyung.” It’s said with a light smile that laces Yoongi’s very aura, radiating amusement and sincerity and the boy the words are directed at, well he can’t help but feel like some of that happiness soak into the smile he flashed in return.

———————————————————————————

Attention didn’t usually bother Taehyung but the intensity with which Park Jimin was staring at him, well he had to admit it was a bit much. “Are you really sure Yoongi will like that?” Truth was: Taehyung wasn’t really sure — a fact that bothered him somewhat considering the current situation.

What was the current situation? One no one really enjoyed being in and in all likelihood would never actually encounter — also known as a fake anniversary for a relationship you weren’t even in. Jimin had been the one to get him stuck here, asking over rice porridge after a particularly harried study session, the pointed question of ‘When did you guys actually start dating?’ jolting Taehyung out of his relieved inhalation of the sustenance. He hadn’t really had time to think of a totally plausible date and instead chose a random number, and following that a random month (that hadn’t already passed), unknowingly manufacturing a lie that would get him dragged down to the village the moment they had free afternoon.

Twisting the plastic clad lollies in his hands Taehyung had to admit he wasn’t entirely if indeed Yoongi would like the gift, it wasn’t like they’d spent any amount of time together (in spite of the fact that they’d already kissed). He’d protested to Jimin’s insistence they come down to the shops but he’d had a fairly fierce gaze levelled with his, how he best friend managed it with the heigh difference he didn’t know, but it had happened. Shouts of how unromantic Taehyung was also leant a hand in their entry to the small confectionary shop, if just because he wanted to at least look like he was trying. Jimin had flitted off along the aisles, saying he was going to look for this particular lolly Namjoon had gotten hooked on during exchange, leaving Taehyung alone to flounder only before coming back satisfied with his search and ready to nag.

Breath rustling the packaging as he let out a defeated sigh, Taehyung dropped the item into his little basket, reminding him of just how little of an idea he had as to what Yoongi would want/like. Hell, it wasn’t even like could want anything for their anniversary since it didn’t technically exist. It’s not like Yoongi would be expecting anything, he didn’t even know that their chosen anniversary date was approaching — and that was exactly why Taehyung couldn’t understand why he was agonising so much over what he was going to get him.

Jimin’s hand settled calmingly, his friend obviously sensing the tense worry that was flooding his body. “Relax Taehyungie, I’m sure Yoongi will love anything you get him. You have really good sense when it comes to presents. Trust me.” A glance at his friend wasn’t even needed for Taehyung to know that he was being flashed a ice melting eye smile, a fact paired with the gentle massaging of his shoulders gave the Ravenclaw a sense of calm that could only be rivalled by the eye of a tropical cyclone.

A snapping sound echoed through the shop and Taehyung’s eyes fell shut, fully aware of the fact that it was coming from the aisle Namjoon had been standing in after rocking up to their friends outing about twenty minutes late. “You go get that. I’m fine,” he whispered to Jimin, voice taut, wanting to laugh at his friend’s mishaps but a tad too absorbed in gift shopping to be joking around. Jimin’s hand left his shoulder soon after and he could hear the patter of his footfalls and the swish of fabric that went with him running in a robe.

Eyes on the table in front of him, Taehyung kept his search focus, only allowing himself to get distracted once when he spotted a type of chocolate that claimed to give you dog ears — let it be known that despite the temptation he didn’t buy it.

He’d reached the soft jellies section of the store when he did eventually look out the window, not because he had any particular interest in the passers-by but because he’d heard a soft dusting of snow begin to settle on the roof of the store. What he had not been expecting was for his own eyes to meet a gaze of a certain student with mint green hair and golden syrup hued eyes. “Jesus, Min Yoongi!” The exclamation licked its way into the silence before Taehyung had time to clamp his mouth shut and he earned a rather startled (and disgruntled) stare from the shopkeeper while Yoongi almost fell on his ass laughing.

Blush the same colour as the hair he wanted bloomed on Taehyung’s cheeks, and he immediately began to gather up the items in front of him, an assortment of the things he’d thought Yoongi would enjoy enough his cheeks would bulge. “Just wait there, punk.” Taehyung pulled up his top lip at the Slytherin, arms too occupied to raise a fist but rest assured he did it in spirit.

Taehyung demonstrated brutal efficiency that he wouldn’t have otherwise displayed on a shopping trip, Namjoon and Jimin barely had time to wave goodbye before he was bustling out of the confectioners, snow almost drowning his feet. Sweets hit against his leg with a crinkling thud as he drew to a stop in front of a still doubled over Min Yoongi, “It’s not funny, you really scared me.” His voice rose in the intonation of a whine but were anyone to ask him if it was a whine, Kim Taehyung would deny himself vehemently.

A little snicker escaped Yoongi as he straightened, gummy smile pressed unerringly onto his lips, refusing to budge even with the frown that hung on Taehyung’s face. “It was kinda funny, I mean, your face did this:” it took a little for Yoongi to prepare himself to pull the expression but once he did even Taehyung had to admit he laughed a little. “SEE?! It was funny.” The older boy was laughing as he pointed out Taehyung’s near concession and had it been anyone else Taehyung would have been pissed but considering it was Yoongi, he was either too scared or surprised to see him laughing he didn’t correct him. Thing was, he couldn’t decide which one it was.

“Hyung~” Taehyung drew out the word, jiggling his body a little, going for a comedic effect, but instead earning the burning gaze of a Min Yoongi that was most certainly not impressed.

The bag that hung around his wrist had gone almost forgotten, only for Taehyung to be reminded of it when it slapped against his thigh in his faux tantrum. Yoongi noticed it too and made an immediate beeline for the possible gossip, hands catching Taehyung’s mid-wiggle and pulling the bag off his person. He’d have caused a fuss about the surprise if they were actually dating but given the only semi-real status their relationship held, it’d have looked pretty absurd if Taehyung did anything but let Yoongi rifle through the bag without hampering his efforts.

Chocolate was the first thing the boy pulled from the plastic, a raised eyebrow asking the silent question of exactly why Taehyung was carrying this much sugar and fat in a single shop. “I got it for you. Jimin dragged me out when I told him our anniversary was coming up on Saturday.” A blush to rival his one from earlier began to dust his cheekbones, giving away feelings he wasn’t entirely ready to admit he had.

Yoongi shuffled back with his explanation, bag held in one hand with the chocolate still tightly gripped in his other. “Oh?” It wasn’t so much an expression of surprise as a question, asking why exactly they’d even been awarded an anniversary in the first place and why Taehyung had been agonising over it.

“Listen, Jimin dragged my ass all the way here, it’s not like I could’ve not bought anything it would’ve looked suspicious.” Taehyung retorted, satisfied with his own excuse and praying that Yoongi would be too. It wasn’t like he was really ready to admit that he did actually care what the other thought of his ‘anniversary’ gifts.

A laugh that could have melted the snow beneath their feet rang out between the buildings and Taehyung was forced to look up from where he’d begun to stare at his shoes to simply witness his now favourite sight of Min Yoongi laughing. It took the Slytherin a moment to settle but when he did and he fixed that gummy smile on him, Taehyung felt like he could die and he’d be the happiest teenager in the world. “Well, you picked well. I like ‘em.” Hearts weren’t meant to beat as fast Taehyung’s did in that moment, and if he thought smile ended him it was the peck on the cheek that he got that really sealed the deal. Almost as if the kiss hadn’t actually happened Yoongi’s gruff broke through Taehyung’s reverie once again, “Now hurry your ass up, Jimin is watchin’ from the window and I don’t feel like stuffing my face with chocolate nor pretending to be your boyfriend for any longer than I gotta.”

And just like that the moment was gone.

Yoongi trudged off ahead, calling out that his ass was freezing and if he had to wait out here a little longer his nipples would freeze off, or perhaps something even more vulgar and Taehyung’s mind had just censored it. Taehyung was too busy thinking about how he was going to get the upperclassman back for not only teasing him at the window but now the kiss too.

Snow crunched under his feet, only audible for the lack of people filling the alleys like they usually did during summer, there seemed to be even fewer people than there had been when he’d been walking and Taehyung had a feeling it was the weather that had driven them indoors. Yoongi was ahead of him, insisting that if they just walked faster he wouldn’t need to struggle through the cold. He’d feel bad for him were it not for the way that he’d laughed at him back at the sweet shop, instead all he felt was the overwhelming need for revenge.

Inspiration came with a glimpse of a couple of young wizards, obviously not old enough to be in high school, hurling misshapen lumps of snow at each other, giggles ringing through the wind tunnels created by the olden style buildings. Pulling his wand from his waist band, Taehyung bet himself that he’d be able to form a perfect sphere with the freshly fallen snow, or at least something that better resembled a sphere than the ones those boys were smattering each other with. He whispered, trying to keep his voice low enough that it wouldn’t echo up to the ears of his target, light soon flowing down in a honey like substance until it wrapped around the blended snowflakes. A flick of his wrist was all that was needed to pull the gathered snow up into the air, and another few twists of his wand gifted him with a recognisable snowball.

Poor Min Yoongi was minding his own business when he felt a wet mass hit the back of his robes, obliterating on impact, leaving behind only a few flecks to support it’s existence — and that was before the snow melted into the fabric clinging to his back, chilling him even more. “Kim. Taehyung. What. The. Fuck?!” Taehyung was ready, sweeping his arm in front of him, a shimmering shield of indefinable colour forming in front of him, just in time for a manually made snowball to hit the barrier and split in all directions. “Oh I’m gonna get you!” Yoongi’s words turned from menacing to almost amused at the end of the warning, the boy breaking out in a quick sprint down the street to follow an already fleeing king.

Wind whipped through Taehyung’s hair as he repeated the process of the wand flick and turn enough to throw at least three snowballs behind him, hurling them over his shoulder in the hopes he wasn’t aiming too high and hitting Yoongi in the face. A grunted expletive seemed to confirm the very fears Taehyung had been hoping weren’t true and he halted in his tracks, almost falling over himself with how slippery the snow was. “Yoongi?” he called out, voice carrying before he’d even had the opportunity to turn around. When he did turn he was greeted with the image of Min Yoongi sprawled out on the ground, not hurt per se, more in a rather compromising starfish position.

Since he’d not seen any blood pooling around the body Taehyung slowed his roll, analysing the situation before trying to scoop Yoongi up, the boy was a Slytherin after all. “You alright there darling~?” He earnt a disgruntled groan for the use of the pet name and that was enough to assure him that Yoongi was okay. Shuffling through the snow scuffed a little snow on to the already damp back of his boyfriend’s robe but really, he’d brought it on himself for mocking his surprise. Couple steps more and Taehyung was by Yoongi’s side, dipping himself low and wrapping his arms around the still sprawled out boy.

“Thank you.” The level of tiredness in Yoongi’s voice was almost enough to make Taehyung feel guilty for what he was about to do. Almost.

Snow flooded Yoongi’s face as Taehyung shoved the handfuls he’d gathered in unison with picking Yoongi up and as if the sensory assault wasn’t enough, Taehyung slipped his hands down the older boy’s shirt, dropping snow down into the damp cotton. His prank would have gone off without a hitch were it not for the fact that Yoongi whipped his head back rather unexpectedly. Unexpectedly enough that Taehyung’s nose had bore the full brunt of the surprise and he was consequently knocked to the ground, not unlike the way Yoongi had been but moments before. “Fuck, Yoongi, shit. That really really hurt.” Taehyung whined, snow cold fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tipped his head forwards in an effort of not have any possibly blood dripping down the back of his throat.

Yoongi’s eyes were wide when they met his and despite a small voice in his head telling him that it was because he was worried about him Taehyung brushed it off all surprise at his sudden swearing. “Fucking hell Taehyung, what were you expecting?” Yoongi’s arm slipped under his back, bringing him up into a sitting position and his fingers soon replaced Taehyung’s on his nose, pinching tightly and moving to allow him to check for breakage. “I’d try and fix it but I’m pretty sure the nurse’d kill me and she scares the shit out me quite frankly,” Yoongi’s tone was obviously trying to keep things light but Taehyung was more preoccupied with the way that the cold of the boy’s fingers starkly contrasted with the blazing heat of his injury.

Smiling felt odd to his senses but it seemed to be the only thing he could do, so Taehyung did, adding a shrug in there for good measure, “It doesn’t hurt that much hyung.” he assured Yoongi, shuffling his butt a little in a poor attempt at standing up. The glare he earnt for his troubles wasn’t particularly encouraging but Taehyung persevered, rocking until he gained enough momentum to rise to his feet, feeling a little better towering over Yoongi once again. “My height comforts me,” he teased, winking and resting the hand that was holding the goods on Yoongi’s shoulder.

His joking about only garnered a click of his tongue from Yoongi and a quick brush off of his hand, “All this fuckin’ about means you’re fine.” his voice was gruff but Taehyung could tell that it was only because he was mildly worried, a fact that he didn’t allow himself to get too comfy with.

All Taehyung wanted to do was take a step forwards to rest his arm on Yoongi’s shoulder but he only ended up tripping on his own feet, leaving Yoongi, of all people, to catch him. “Right, well you’re not going so good are you? Come on, we gotta get you to the nurse ASAP.” Taehyung scoffed at that, unsurprisingly getting him an unapologetic slap the side as Yoongi fought with gravity to right him as much as possible. “I’m not gonna let my boyfriend collapse in the snow after he’s just spent hours buying me gifts. I reckon Jimin’d get on my case about it being unromantic.” This time the words were hot, whispered warm against Taehyung’s ear and while it was cold, he knew the shiver that ran down his spine wasn’t because of the weather.

Sweet words and surprisingly strong short people aside, Taehyung couldn’t deny just how nice it felt to be able to lean on and rely on someone other than his parents and/or family — even nicer since that person was Min Yoongi.

———————————————————————————

It was the turn of the seasons, spring was upon them and Taehyung knew that his mother would be waiting for his letter with tense anticipation and while he knew he wasn’t strictly required to send one, his fate would be questionable should he not do so. Hanja stared back from the parchment he’d bought the same day he’d bought Yoongi’s gifts for their anniversary, and the fact that you could still smell the trace of the lavender stuffed bear brought the beginnings of a smile to his lips. Ink did mute the reminder of the reason he’d been out that day, and only became stronger as he continued on with his letter but Taehyung did have to wonder if his mother would be able to smell it, or if it would be precious only to him.

Ink welled up around the fine hairs of his calligraphy brush, the remainder of age old royal traditions. Slowly, ever so slowly, he traced recounts of the events of the past month, refusing to name Yoongi with the sole reason of not actually knowing the hanja that made up his name. He became ‘that boy’, and the words around him took on a beauty that Taehyung usually only reserved for his lessons on poetry (a fact that Taehyung wouldn’t notice until his mother asked about).

Trust wasn’t the only reason the truth was written on the parchment, Jimin was one of his most trusted friends and even then Taehyung wasn’t about to divulge the true extent to which Min Yoongi had crawled his way into his heart. The woman he was writing to was the Queen Mother, he had a duty to report to her everything that had the possibility to affect the nation. Taehyung’s love life was the very epitome of something with the power to shape or destroy the health of their nation.

Such was his concentration on the task of honouring his mother and his non-existent relationship with Yoongi that Taehyung missed the soft tapping on his semi-opened window — at least until it became louder and more insistent. “Hello?” Sing-song had never sounded so pissed off and Taehyung felt a touch of guilt roll forwards in his consciousness when he raised his gaze and was met with a rather pissed off looking Min Yoongi. Scrambling up from his spot at his desk, Taehyung launched himself across various piles of stationary and threw the windows open, the unspoken question of how Yoongi was there answered when he floated in, legs tight around a broomstick. “Thank you.” The thanks was bitten out, the boy obviously too preoccupied with the task of landing without stacking the way he did last time to offer a proper greeting. Taehyung didn’t blame him.

“How come you’re here? I told you I was writing my letter to my mother this afternoon.” The words weren’t meant to come out as harsh as they did and Taehyung winced a little with the pointed look he got from his boyfriend (now with both feet planted on the ground).

Mouth almost becoming an upside down smile Yoongi shrugged, leaning his broomstick against the frame of the bed, eyes sweeping efficiently up and down Taehyung’s frame. “I wanted to visit you. They say that it’s romantic to visit the person you love on the turn of the seasons.” The words caught Taehyung off guard but Yoongi edged in before he could ask where in the fresh hell the almost confession had come from. “Jimin’s been on my back for not showing you enough affection, and while you and I both know that I ain’t a PDA kind of guy, I’d appreciate it if you told your minion that I’ve been putting in an effort.” Still didn’t completely answer why Yoongi had actually visited, they’d agreed that it was easier to just lie and co-ordinate their stories instead of playing into Jimin (and to a lesser extent, Namjoon)’s hands by being that lovey-dovey couple everyone hated.

Edging away from his desk, where Taehyung had been tidying up his letter materials while he listened to Yoongi’s explanation, he narrowed his eyes. “How come you didn’t follow the usual thing of just writing me? Or talking to me after class?” Curiosity dripped in his voice and while it made things sound like Taehyung didn’t actually want to see Yoongi, it was a question that did need answering (or at least for him).

Yoongi’s hand came up to rest on the back of his neck, scratching nervously at the baby hairs that were still soft in spite of their treatment to the mint green experience. “Well I wanted to talk to you and we don’t have a lot of classes together and I’m busy at lunch and I guess you probably are too and yeah…” There wasn’t much to the explanation but it still made Taehyung’s head flop the the side, and tempted him to ask the question: ‘Who are you and what have you done with Min Yoongi?’. His train of thought was sabotaged however when one final statement came from the mouth of a possible imposter. “‘Sides I felt bad for the way that I hurt your nose when we went to the village so I brought you these.”

Flowers. Min Yoongi had brought him sunflowers. Not just any flowers either, sunflowers. Sunflowers in a big, healthy bunch stared back at him and it felt odd that the only thing that was actually on Taehyung’s mind was: what kind of concealment spell did he use to hide those or was Min Yoongi just really good at sleight-of-hand? Rather than replying with any comprehensible words Taehyung instead just let out a flustered sound, hands repeatedly raising and lowering, not entirely sure of whether they were meant to take the flowers or not. “My nose is fine.” A not entirely helpful addition to the discourse Taehyung was aware, but he couldn’t really think of anything else to say.

“Can you just take the blessed flowers you, idiot? I even asked Jimin for help in picking them out, he said they were your favourites.” Well, that wasn’t an incorrect statement and things made a little more sense once he knew that Jimin had provided assistance but that didn’t mean he wasn’t…suspicious.

Closing the gap between them, hands wrapping around the bouquets with an as of yet undecided level of enthusiasm, Taehyung couldn’t help the “Why’d you really get these?” He knew that Jimin got under Yoongi’s skin and it seemed odd to him that he'd really feel bad enough about a relatively minor ‘injury’ (if you could even call it that) to put up with him for long enough to weed this information out of him.

At this stage, both their hands were wrapped the bouquet, an unspoken line between them in this war of attrition. “I already said, because I feel bad for hurting you Taehyung, don’t be looking for shit when there isn’t any.” Yoongi’s voice was defensive now, taking on a quality that Taehyung had only overheard when he’d spotted teachers pulling Yoongi up for not wearing his robes properly or having his wand out in the hallways.

He narrowed his eyes at the same time that he pulled the flowers close to him, feeling Yoongi unwilling to hand them over, and stopping just short of wrenching them out of the Slytherin’s hands. “Come on Yoongi, you know that when you say that I know you’re lying. I wasn’t put into Ravenclaw for no reason.” Taehyung sounded almost as if he pitied the older boy, his words falling into the silence between them, heavy, but not enough to break the thick tension between them — all fond memories of snowball fights and lollipops forgotten. Yoongi stepped forwards in the space, forcing the flowers against Taehyung’s chest, eyes drawing so narrow they were almost closed, but open enough that he could still see them passing over every line in his face. “You really want me to say it don’t you?” Victory. It was obvious that Yoongi was going to spill it no matter what he did so rather than speaking (his voice would be too mocking to risk it) Taehyung simply shrugged, shoulders loose and smile warm. “God. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Idiot.” Yoongi surged forwards, the crinkling of the packaged sunflowers falling on deaf ears as tension fell away and unspoken wishes were realised.

They were kissing, and in that moment Taehyung knew that this wasn’t the some stranger pretending to be Min Yoongi, these lips tasted too sweet, too warm, and most of all too right. Hands pinned against his chest, Taehyung released them with a faint struggle with the rather large bundle of flowers, throwing his gift half-heartedly upon the bed. Suddenly everything that wasn’t the urgent press of Yoongi’s body against his own became irrelevant and unwanted. Time slowed and it felt like entirely too long to get his hands once again resting in those mint green strands, except this occasion was much less angry and more…desperate. They fit together better this time, Taehyung dipping low and Yoongi leaning upwards, meeting in the middle as they both sought out what they’d denied themselves since the last incident.

Eventually though, they did need to break apart for air, lungs begging for more than the sharp intakes they’d been afforded by quick breaks as they positioned. Taehyung’s hands had eventually found their ways to Yoongi’s waist, and that was where they laid as he brought their foreheads together and let his eyes slip shut. The only sound in the room was, for but a brief moment, their hurried breathing, giving Taehyung another reason that they most definitely had to do this again sometime. While he wasn’t actively looking for reasons that this was the best moment in his life (closely rivalled by his coronation), it was a welcome surprise when Yoongi uttered the words that firmly secured its place in his memories.

“I kinda…definitely…like you…a lot…Your Highness Kim Taehyung…” In a moment that required the least formal speech — Min Yoongi used it for the first time.

part II here

#taegi #minjoon #bts fic #fic #HP AU #royalty au #fake dating au

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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i am a king. you are a king.

This is strictly the only addition I’m going to make to this ‘verse (at the moment) but Meah has been bugging me for an explanation for the way that Taehyung replied so I wrote this to satisfy her curiosity (and mine tbqh).

If you’re looking at this, thanks for reading the initial and deciding to continue on to the next chapter! :-)

A shuddering breath was all that Taehyung was able to let out. It was really the only sound he was able to make, those worried brown eyes holding his gaze and stealing all words from his lips.

Yoongi had just confessed to him, reminding him of all those stolen glances at his lips, his smile and the tender feeling of their hands intertwined.

Those words reminded Kim Taehyung of how much he’d come to appreciate, like, and perhaps even…love…Min Yoongi. Shuddering breaths melting into shakey laughter, Taehyung’s head fell forward until it met his boyfriend’s, and his hands snaked their way down to taking ahold of the elder’s. Fingers fit together and eyes met once again, reminders that neither had spoken into the silence that had broken over them after the confession.

“Am I allowed to make a joke about you becoming a Queen or is that too cheesy?” Like a cracked whipped Yoongi’s knee jerked to knock against Taehyung’s leg, almost in direct contrast to the patented gummy smile that had broken across his façade. “Ah! I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Taehyung’s words were muffled somewhat by the pout pressed on to his face, but the expression was more for comic effect and based on the pretence of making Yoongi laugh.

His endeavour succeeded as their hand holding served as the only way Taehyung was able to maintain Yoongi’s standing position, pulling him close to save him from tumbling to the floor. “You kept me in suspense for that long just to make some shitty joke about marryin’ me?” Yoongi’s eyes were mere crescents at this point and the hiccoughed laugh that filled a space Taehyung had almost forgotten only had him falling further and harder. Sticking out his bottom lip, he nodded, though the lip didn’t stick out for long, it was too hard to fight off his smile. “I take it back.” Yoongi’s voice cut through the light that had become his world and he could feel the darkness creeping its way in.

Smile falling from his face, Taehyung’s grip on his boyfriend’s hands tightened, scared that perhaps if he let go, the man in front of him would disappear. “You do?” He didn’t mean to have his voice sound so deflated but that was the way it was and Taehyung couldn’t muster the energy to hide it.

He’d dropped his gaze so taehyung didn’t see it when Yoongi’s face fell and his smile turned to concern, nor did he see it when he did begin to smile again, but this time a heavier love hanging from his lips with concern still drawn on his brow. “Oh god Taehyung, not seriously. I just meant…” Hands that weren’t his own came to rest on the side of his face, Yoongi’s relatively pale skin glowing with a twilight that belonged to the magical essence that was seeping through his pores. “…I don’t like you. I love you.” he’d barely spoken the last word in those precious three before Taehyung’s head snapped back up and his own eyes turned to crescents and a pure golden aura began to roll of his skin and shoulders.

A silver film stretched between Yoongi’s fingers, translucent and almost glistening as he brought his fingers out in front of him, wiggling them a few times to see if the membrane would break. “I love you too Min Yoongi.” The words came slow and easy and felt right on Taehyung’s lips, uttered as he brought his hands up to slot into Yoongi’s. The membrane did break, instead settling on the back of his hand, spreading up until it met the gold that had racing down his bare forearm.

It wasn’t planned, nor was it unwanted but their lips met, coming together as a natural progression of the emotions that had welled for all too long. Instead of an echo of their kiss before this one was punctured with a rupturing and fluctuation of the energy that was coating their skin and roiling in the air around them. A rush of air ruffled their hair, billowing their robes around their bodies and bringing a brisk chill to their knuckles, but it did not cool the heat that bristled in their kiss.

His lips dusted with a warm smile, Taehyung eventually pulled away from the kiss, fringe pushed back from the artificial wind, and lips swollen red, a fact that prompted a proud smirk in Yoongi.

“So how ‘bout it? I may be a King but that doesn’t mean the nation couldn’t use another.”

i'm setting up commissions because i am a poor university student and i want to not be poor!

commission me here

#taegi #minjoon #bts fic #fic #bts #fan fic #HP AU #royalty AU #fake dating au

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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hold me close (i sleep alone)

Zhang Yixing is always the first to leave. OR The drabble in which Byun Baekhyun has all his love to give.

twitter user @/ultxing is always yelling at me about how i write angst and this is the first true angst I’ve written in about two years and it’s not even 1000 words long. i don’t know what she’s reading. i am a pure fluff writer.

He should have been used to it, and somedays he was, used to the way that Yixing always seemed to be the first to leave, whether it be a bed or a country, and Baekhyun always seemed to be the one left behind.

The first few times he’d watched.

Fourth and fifth, he’d squeezed his eyes closed, both hands grabbing tightly at the excuse that was post sex fatigue.

One would have thought that by the time a sixth and seventh occasion had rolled around he would have become numb to it, the knowledge of what had been coming ice on an otherwise angry wound.

Emotions didn’t bend to logic though, no.

Byun Baekhyun was just as vulnerable to the chill of an unused pillow, hands curling into nothing as memories tortured him with the way those lips burnt, searing their touches on to his skin with purpling bruises, and teeth that tore at the very edges of his self-restraint.

It was stupid of him really, to lie there in the deafening quiet, one side of the bed empty in the poisonous hope that even a ghost of the man that had left him would come back and occupy the space.

Sometimes the silence would be filled with the taste of heavy tears rolling across his lips, salt teasing at the edge of his tongue, caught between consolation and desolation.

The nights before Yixing leaving the country were the worst, the knowledge that he wouldn’t even be in the practice rooms the next morning enough to make those the moments where Baekhyun felt the loneliest.

It wasn’t that Baekhyun couldn’t appreciate the reason he was where he was, the reason he was who he was to Yixing, of course he could. The life of an idol was one of restraint, where there were words that you couldn’t say and spared touches.

All he was, all he existed as, beyond another member, was a repository for those touches, and those words. And maybe he would have been okay with that, maybe he could have found peace with who he was.

But Zhang Yixing’s words were too sweet, too warm, too close to the words he wanted whisper in return.

Maybe even then, maybe if those words hadn’t been whispered into his ear as his back arched, as every inch of rejected skin touched, he would have been okay.

All those maybes were too much for Baekhyun’s heart to hold and that was why those moments, those ones where he watched Yixing leaving, that was why they hurt.

If perhaps one of those maybes didn’t exist, he wouldn’t have cried as hard as he did, and his hands wouldn’t stretch out, after the door clicked shut, and curl as he chased a shadow of the man he wanted so desperately to touch him just once more.

Maybes were all that seemed to occupy his mind, ever since that first night, that first chasing of lips against lips and hands against flesh.

That first night had been a celebration, a reassurance in a whirlwind of joy and elation.

They didn’t have reason now, a fact that had been acknowledged around the ninth time that bodies had tumbled on to Baekhyun’s bed, a mess of limbs and half-discarded clothes.

Reasons had become an almost secondary objective, implicit in the way Yixing’s hands traced his legs, his lips trailed his neck, and sometimes they were only imparted after the deed had been done.

Some nights, even if Yixing didn’t offer up a whispered explanation for the way his hands pulled his hips up, Baekhyun would offer it up to the crushing silence, breaking through his own haze of want.

By now he’d lost a count of how many times he’d been the one to offer the excuse, how often it’d been him to console himself, but it was just as evident, as the sheets pooled around Yixing’s bare figure, that tonight would be no different.

Discordant silence was what met his ears tonight, broken only by the shuffle of underwear being pulled on and breathing that took the place of words of excuse.

Baekhyun didn’t know why he expected anything other than the swift exit of Yixing, with only the click of a door to mark the end of their stolen tryst.

Hiccoughed laughter filled the silence before the tears really had time to fall, as Baekhyun realised, he wasn’t entirely sure that he would ever ask for this to end.

To have Yixing hold him, to hear those words, no matter how empty they were, was a sensation, a feeling he wasn’t ready to give up.

AN//

i'm setting up commissions because i am a poor university student and i want to not be poor! commision me here

#baekxing #baeklay #exo fic #angst #fwb #pining

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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go little bad boy

Jinyoung and Youngjae meet in the club. That’s literally it.

smut; pwp;

AN// thank you for reading darlings. i hope you find this (at least) vaguely sexy

Every single one of his senses was ignited as he was touched by total strangers; strobe lights flashed with speed that would have lightning jealous, alcohol burned the back of his throat, sweat stung his nostrils, and too loud bass thrummed through his bones.

It was safe to say: Jinyoung was out of his depth.

Jackson had been the one to drag him here, insistent hands pressing against his back the moment he’d heard that he’d been promoted. The reality of things was that the promotion wasn’t really a big one, it wasn’t like he was about to be able to make a larger payments into his mortgage each month. He didn’t see what the fuss was about and it vaguely bothered him that he’d allowed himself to be dragged to a club (with a name he couldn’t even pronounce — English) to celebrate such a shallow ‘victory’. The pliable and willing smile that had settled on his lips, spoke to how much control his ex still had over him.

Bodies rolled against his own with an insistent rhythm that belonged to a song he didn’t want to think too much about — he knew that were he sober he’d be frowning instead of following. A couple of people tried to speak to him, levying themselves into his attentions with a comment about his odd attire, a t-shirt and jeans, before he turned away with the excuse of awaiting shots. There were expectations that he take someone home at the end of the night but the entire attending party knew things weren’t likely to go down like that. If the ones betting on it were lucky he might take home a number at the end of the night.

Whether he texted the number or not was another matter. He probably wouldn’t.

He’d remain unattached just as he had been since Jackson had broken his heart. It’d been a mutual break-up, or at least that was what he’d felt was safest to say. In actuality Jinyoung’s world had slowly fallen apart as he’d heard words he couldn’t even clearly remember, all he’d known was that they meant they were over. Now, the sight of his ex leaning lovingly (and lustfully) against his current beau was the only thing pushing his hand to the air each time his shot glass emptied into his mouth.

Still, tonight wasn’t meant to be a pity party, while he hadn’t wanted to be here originally, Jinyoung wasn’t one to turn a good time into a bad one. Crying in a corner over your ex while his new boyfriend comforted him just wasn’t a rock bottom he felt like hitting tonight. So, while he wasn’t about to take anyone home, even he would admit that it would be nice to get some attention — preferably from someone he wouldn’t mind making-out with in the back of a sweaty club.

Hands snaked down his sides and Jinyoung started talking before he’d even turned “Jacks—,” eyes met his own, and they definitely did not belong to Jackson. They belonged to someone who managed to glisten rather than actually sweat. “Hi.” he managed to bite out, unsure of whether his words were choked because of surprise or more because the man in front of him was just so goddamn attractive. Deciding on the latter, Jinyoung raised a brow and tilted his head down to the hands that were still resting on his waist, “Do you usually do that instead of saying hello? Or is it just in the club?” Jinyoung’s mouth flicked up a the edges and he leant close to the other’s face as he asked the second question; daring him to say something other than an agreement.

Instead of retracting his hands to his sides, fingers pressed tighter, tugging his shirt as he leant closer, lips almost grazing his chin before he tilted his head upwards. “Only in the club.” Jinyoung was surprised, most people wouldn’t admit to acting more touchy in the club, no matter how true it was. Raising a singular brow he allowed his eyes to drift across the other’s features once again, the only just shorter man’s eyes met his just as he was about to catalogue his ears. “Do you usually think so hard about hookups?”

The question hung in the air and the truth was, no Jinyoung didn’t usually. Normally his arms would easily wind around the other man’s waist and their lips would brush with no questions asked. “Are you used to being the exception?” he asked, lips pulling into an easy smirk.

His smirk was reciprocated, an almost not-there quirk of his dancing partner’s lips. “I’m more used to being Youngjae.” A wink punctuated the sentence and it came too naturally, pulling Jinyoung in quick enough for him to be caught pleasantly off-guard when he felt their hips bump together.

Placing his hands on Youngjae’s waist suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad option.

Jinyoung knew how this went. How Youngjae’s hands snaked up his body, trailing along plains of muscle before settling on his shoulders. How their hips would bump, once, twice, maybe even three times before they stayed there, glued together with the promise of the night to come.

He knew that even if the position changed, these key things stayed true, and when it was Youngjae’s ass rubbing against his instead of his crotch, Jinyoung was proven right.

They stayed like this for a few more songs, an exemplar of exactly how every one night stand started. That was until Youngjae turned and started trailing his lips along the hollow of Jinyoung’s throat.

His lips came out to bite a few times, nipping at muscle that he’d not even noticed he had, tongue darting out in a belated, albeit insincere, apology. It had been a rather long time since Jinyoung’s pupils had dilated so quickly Youngjae seemed to be living up to his title in his mind: ‘the exception’.

It was with the kick beat of a new song that Youngjae once again turned, precious friction lost as they came to face each other, noses bumping and eyes meeting. While he couldn’t see himself Jinyoung could probably guarantee that his eyes were as hooded as Youngjae’s and well, he wasn’t even going to think about his spit slicked lips.

A shuddered breath came between them and Jinyoung wasn’t entirely sure who it belonged to, and frankly with the way Youngjae’s tongue darted out and wet his lips, he didn’t really care. “How close is your place?” Jinyoung considered it a feat that he managed to get out words that made actual sense, especially when his mind was pretty much purely lips, ass, crotch, neck.

“Two blocks away, but, my parents are home.”

“My place then. You’re paying for the taxi.”

“I don’t have my wallet on me.”

“Fuck, you better be good at head.”

He tripped three times, approximately. Maybe four if you counted the way he nearly fell on his ass coming in the front door backwards. Okay, maybe you did count that. He tripped four times.

Jinyoung wasn’t counting when Youngjae pushed him onto the bed, hands tight in the front of his shirt, and eyes alight with something he was sure wasn’t there at the club. He was simply hoping it wasn’t the intent to murder him.

It was the much more (not entirely) innocent intent to rid him as much clothing as possible.

A silent prayer to his past self fell from Jinyoung’s lips as Youngjae rid him of his plain t-shirt.

Slender fingers dipped into his pants, pulling at the waistband of his briefs, teasing everywhere but where Jinyoung wanted them. He forgave quickly though, as Youngjae’s lips pressed against his and he felt the roll of his hips against his own.

Lips didn’t stay on lips for long.

He wasn’t sure who moved first but the task of marking a path along Youngjae’s neck was too an important of a task to distract himself from. Sweat mingled with spit on his tongue, in a taste he’d grown too accustomed to in the last few months, but it was far from stopping Jinyoung, rather, it encouraged him. It wasn’t exactly his intent to leave the bruises there but when he pulled back for air the first time, he would be lying if he said a faint smile didn’t appear on his lips.

Youngjae’s hand drew back from its place in his pants, instead coming up to rest on Jinyoung’s shoulders, in what he would have classed as a sad loss were it not for the sweet grind of their hips together. The close of teeth around his bottom lip wasn’t expected, nor was the smirk that pressed against his lips with a kiss, then another. A third came before Jinyoung could pull away and that was the way he liked it.

It was with a lazy search of his fingers that Jinyoung realised that Youngjae’s shirt was still clinging rather stubbornly to his hips. Refusing to pull away from the kiss, Jinyoung pulled desperately at it, tugging it from where it was tucked into his pants, and slipping his hands under, palming the sweaty skin. “Careful of the buttons.” gasped against his lips with the touch of his fingers against Youngjae’s hips, he realised that there were intermittent buttons holding the shirt closed.

“I’ll pay for a new shirt if they pop off. Just wanna feel you.” The words were occasionally separated by kisses as Jinyoung rifled his hands up Youngjae’s body, fabric bunching up around his wrists.

His bed partner did eventually have to pull away from the kiss to allow the shirt to slip around his head, but in doing so compensated Jinyoung with an extra roll of his hips, reminding him exactly what was in store. “Is your pillow talk always so hot?” Youngjae asked, million-watt smiling down at him, and were it not for the fact that his shirt was now: off, it would be the only thing Jinyoung focussed on. As things were though, his hands, and eyes, were concerned with mapping and tracing the strain of muscles under Youngjae’s skin.

It took him a few moments to register that Youngjae had spoken and a few more to realise that he needed to reply, “Pillow talk is meant to come after sex babe. I’m just getting started.” A shiver ran down Youngjae’s spine that Jinyoung only felt because his hands were now on the fast track to cupping his ass in his pants, tight waistband pressing flesh against his palms.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t immediately notice the way Youngjae’s bottom lip tucked between his teeth, or the way he dragged it back through them, turning the flesh red with irritation. “Fuck…” was the last thing Jinyoung got out before Youngjae’s ass was arching into his touch and his lips were against Jinyoung’s neck, leaving hickeys to mirror those on his own.

Wasting time clearly wasn’t something that Youngjae enjoyed, that much was easy to figure out from the way his lips made their way down Jinyoung’s body and he inched far enough away that Jinyoung’s hands couldn’t stay in his pants. The urge to let his eyes slip shut lost against the need to watch the work of Youngjae’s hands undoing the buttons of his pants and pulling enough at them that the zip came undone of its own accord.

They worked in tandem to get his pants off, Jinyoung with an odd, and rather unsexy, wriggle and Youngjae more productively pulling at them. It was a joint decision that they didn’t need to come down further than his ankles, that was a problem they could deal with later.

One thing that was repeatedly coming clear was Youngjae’s pragmatism in the bedroom, and his hands were soon on the inside of Jinyoung’s briefs, pulling at his cock in a warm up before they rid the tight fabric from his thighs. A punched out gasp came out instead of words and Jinyoung’s eyes fluttered as he looked down and he and Youngjae’s gazes met, hooded lids meeting in the middle.

A wink and Jinyoung was gone, eyes slipping shut and head falling back as he felt a warm mouth graze the head of his dick.

No time was wasted, and it was almost as if Youngjae been waiting the entire night to do this, hell, maybe he had. All Jinyoung knew was that he was doing it just the way he liked.

It was all slow drags, quick pumps and just the right amount of tongue. After a time that was bordering on too long, but not quite, Youngjae’s fingers pulled gently on his balls, rolling them for a moment before cupping them completely, giving them a rarely given, desperately needed attention.

Jinyoung’s hips rose for the first time without him thinking about it, but with the unexpected movement he felt the coil of pleasure that came with Youngjae’s tongue dragging flat against the underside of his cock. He felt his teeth clench and his hips roll again, hands moving from where they were knotted in the sheets to pull expectantly on Youngjae’s hair. “Ah, fuck Youngjae…” he was going to say more, something about how good he was, how much he wanted it, but his words died on his lips as Youngjae dipped forwards until his nose brushed against Jinyoung’s hip.

All would have been fine had he not done it again, had his hands stayed loose on his balls, had Youngjae continued on as he had been. He didn’t though, once again embracing the name of ‘the exception’. This time, his mouth slipped off Jinyoung’s dick almost completely, leaving him to pay special attention to the head, tongue tucking flatly against the tip as he hollowed his cheeks. A shiver ran down Jinyoung’s spine this time, his jaw falling slack and head lolling to the side to press his cheek against the cool sheets.

Oh God. He needed to stop this before he came embarrassingly fast, but more importantly, before got the chance to reciprocate; Jinyoung wasn’t oblivious to the bulge in Youngjae’s pants. He’d felt it drag against his skin as he’d slipped down to start his current work.

His hands slipped down from their entanglement in Youngjae’s hair, framing his face as they traced along the jaws. “If you keep that up I’m gonna come, and that means embarrassing me and disappointin’ you. Neither are things I’m a fan of; especially the second option.” A soft smile came to his lips as Youngjae’s widened at the words and he managed to gather the strength to pull himself up, dragging Youngjae with him.

Their lips met in the middle, hot and wet, Youngjae’s tongue tasting of the precum he’d licked from Jinyoung and while it felt odd to taste it, it was hot enough that he ignored it in favour of rolling them over.

Youngjae safely below him, Jinyoung propped himself up, forearms pressed into the mattress, and toed his pants and briefs off, still unwilling to break the kiss — especially as Youngjae’s arms, snaked around his neck, pulled him closer.

“Was I good enough at head?” those were the first words that filled the space between them as Jinyoung broke the kiss to breathe.

A smirk came to his lips as he hooked his hands under Youngjae’s thighs, lingering there for a moment before he moved them back to pull at the zipper and buttons on the crotch. “I’m not regrettin’ paying the taxi fare just yet, that’s for sure.” Jinyoung pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Youngjae’s mouth before leaning across him and pulling the lube from his bedside drawer, grunting a little when he realised the condoms had slid to the back. He could feel Youngjae busying himself with finishing the work Jinyoung had started and soon heard the sound of pants hitting the wall behind the foot of his bed.

He dipped down for another kiss, missing the bottom lip and catching most of the top lip and a good portion of the space below Youngjae’s nose, thankful there wasn’t much stubble to speak of. “Good job, babe,” he whispered against that top lip and patch of skin under the nose, hands trailing down to give Youngjae’s cocks a few experimental pulls, adding a wink in for good measure.

Jinyoung made his way down Youngjae’s body quickly, with the exception of licking and sucking a few tentative kisses on his chest and stomach, hand still tight and doing everything but what Youngjae wanted as he took his time.

The lube was cold, and while he was keen, Jinyoung knew that with the steam that was building on the windows of his tiny room, that it would be an unpleasant surprise for Youngjae and unconducive to a quick and easy warm up. Not that he would mind waiting, watching Youngjae beg for more was half the fun.

Rolling his fingers, warming the lube, his lips slipped around Youngjae’s cock, the head already wet with anticipatory precum. He cleaned it quickly, tongue flat before he tucked it under, mimicking the way Youngjae had tortured him, hand smoothing his thigh instead of his balls. He hollowed his cheeks quickly and was rewarded with an almost instant moan hitting the heated air around them, his hips bucking up as the moan turned to a whine. Hooking his free hand under Youngjae’s thigh he brought his legs to rest up and over his shoulders, and precursor, a warning of what was to come.

While the lube had warmed Jinyoung wasn’t sure if there was enough, and put a little more on to his fingers as he dipped his head down to seal his lips around Youngjae’s cock once again. His efforts were rewarded with another one of those moans that turned to a whine and it’d be a lie to say that Jinyoung wasn’t damn pleased with himself. Youngjae’s moans had a certain sound, a pitch that just made Jinyoung want to put his hands on him all the more.

He didn’t pull his mouth off Youngjae when he slipped his fingers down to press against his hole, a single finger circling it, making sure the lube was suitably distributed, and casting a glance up to Youngjae before pushing it in. Jinyoung only pushed to the first knuckle, allowing for the initial tense, allowing for it to pass before he proceeded to the second.

A singular whimper escaped into the air and Jinyoung’s eyes darted up in concern, meeting Youngjae’s where his gaze was levelled on his mouth. “I’m fine babe, ’s good.” Jinyoung’s shoulders relaxed from where they’d bunched together in concern and he nodded, receiving another gratuitous moan for the bopping of his head.

The low rumble of his laughter reverberated into his mouth and consequently got him a sharp look from Youngjae, one of when-the-fuck-will-you-hurry-your-ass-up, and Jinyoung was all too happy to comply. Crooking his finger he worked to make sure Youngjae would be ready before he pushed his second finger in, pulling his head back and sucking specially at the head of his cock, hoping to distract from the pain. He hissed and Jinyoung felt bad for a moment, but he felt Youngjae relax around the new intrusion almost immediately, he even rocked back against it a little.

Jinyoung pulled his mouth off Youngjae’s cock, coming away with a soft popping sound, eyes dark as they met. “Three fingers, I don’t want you to be underprepared.” his voice was husky with either the stretch of Youngjae’s dick or desire, Jinyoung wasn’t entirely sure.

“You just wanna see me grinding on your fingers,” Youngjae huffed the words out and they were more laughed than spoken but Jinyoung got the gist.

His fingers scissored, stretching him enough that he could at least begin teasing at the third finger. “That may well be true Youngjae but it doesn’t negate my earlier point. Sex is no fun if it’s not pleasurable for both parties.” he punctuated the end of his sentence by pressing the third digit in, only up to the first knuckle but it was in nonetheless.

Youngjae’s back arched, head pressing into the already messy sheets, and let out a low groan that soon melted into, “Fuck, are you usually this eloquent while teasing your sexual conquests?”

Jinyoung slipped the third finger in further, up to the second knuckle, and glanced up at Youngjae, “The eloquence usually stops around the time I’m balls deep.” he replied, lips quirking up at the corners a little, more pleased with the way Youngjae’s eyes were fluttering between fulling open and squeezed shut in pleasure.

Another one of those choked out laughs that turned into a moan as Jinyoung scissored two of his fingers, testing Youngjae, not wanting to get ahead of himself. “Ah, I see. I’ll keep that in mind.” He finished speaking and rolled his hips, a clear sign that he was looking for Jinyoung get his ass into gear and actually do something other than prep.

Jinyoung spoke as he flicked the cap of the lube open, the small click filling the ragged silence that was only otherwise broken by their breathing. Click. “Be sure you do.” Click. It pooled cool in his hand and he rubbed his fingers together, busying one hand with the task of heating it up while the other began the task of rolling the condom on.

“Lemme help.” Youngjae leant forwards, one leg coming off from where it was resting on Jinyoung’s shoulder, falling onto the sheets with a soft thud. “It’s the least I can do.” he grunted as he took the condom from Jinyoung’s hand and slid it over with a great deal more grace than Jinyoung would have had. He chose to ignore the smirk that crossed his face as he gave a few jacks of his hand since, while they weren’t needed, they were appreciated.

Once the condom was on, it was a grunted, “Come ‘ere.” that pulled Youngjae close, Jinyoung’s hand coming and pulling his leg back on to his shoulder as they fell back against the bed. At first his hands were pre-occupied with lining up and pushing in that he wasn’t able to do all that he wanted. They weren’t busy for long and with the initial push and arch of bodies as they came together Jinyoung was leaning down, mouth pressing eagerly against Youngjae’s, kisses short and sweet as he slowly began to set a pace.

Things didn’t stay short and sweet for long though, his thrusts stayed long and slow but Jinyoung knew they both felt that coil of need in their stomachs, running low and permeating into the air around them. Their hips rolled in a tandem he’d not felt with many, if any, of his past encounters and Jinyoung found himself enjoying the way Youngjae’s arms wound around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer for all their kisses. He didn’t know when their hands met on the side of their bodies, pressing into the mattress but the intimacy was strangely something he didn’t mind, lending itself to the slow roll of his his against Youngjae’s.

He didn’t know how many minutes had passed when Youngjae rolled them over, smirking down at Jinyoung from where he now sat on top. A teasing roll of hips was all the warning Jinyoung got before his hands were abandoned in favour of resting on his shoulders. “Fuck.” They said in tandem, a naughty smile playing on Youngjae’s features as he dipped his body low, all angles and impossible curves.

Mercy wasn’t a word in Youngjae’s vocabulary as his hips rolled and eyes darkened, nails digging tightly into Jinyoung’s shoulders, grip tight, an assurance of exactly what he could deliver. A tiny shiver rolled down Jinyoung’s body before he dropped his eyes closed, enjoying the brief moment of pleasure before he drew them back open, dark gaze matching Youngjae’s. “Oh, just like that.” he dropped the praise as his hand came to curl around Youngjae’s cock, pulling in an easy stroke, reminiscent of right before he’d taken it in his mouth earlier.

Hand still slick from the lube from earlier the pulls came easily and Jinyoung was pleased watch Youngjae’s eyes fall closed, and jaw go slack, hips rolling as if almost on autopilot by now. “Tell me how good it is baby,” he grunted out, trying his best to quell the coil tightening exponentially tighter in his stomach, distracting himself by trailing his free hand up Youngjae’s body, finally landing his finger tips on his nipple.

“It’s so good, fuck, the way you feel babe, so good.” It was with a quick pinch, and pull of Youngjae’s nipple, that his hand left to instead cup his face, thumb pulling at his already heavily bitten bottom lip. “Fuck Jinyoung,” Youngjae tipped his head back this time, slipping Jinyoung’s hand back to grasping at his neck, fingers tracing the hickeys he’d marked him up with earlier.

As if throw some unspoken agreement they both began to roll their hips a little harder, Jinyoung’s hand jacking at Youngjae’s cock harder, determined to make those curses and moans fall thick and fast from his lips. The one time Youngjae did dare to slow down Jinyoung let out a growl from deep in his chest and snapped his hips up, a reminder that he was too far gone now to let anything slow him down.

Jinyoung was always going to be the first one to come, and as much as he liked to please his partners and make sure they had a pleasurable time while they were in bed with him; his self-control just wasn’t that thick. “Fuck, Youngjae I’m gonn—“ he broke off, voice choking in his throat as Youngjae’s finger pressed against his lips, his right hand having freed itself from its station on his shoulder.

“Shh I know. Do it for me babe, come for me.” His skin shivered with the huskiness of his voice, rolling over him in waves and it was the scrape of Youngjae’s fingers across his chest that pushed Jinyoung over the edge.

He came gasping Youngjae’s name, eyes blinking as his back arched off the bed, hands falling to Youngjae’s shoulders as he rode him through the wave, nails digging into the soft skin. “FUCK.” he grinds out the word between his teeth, eyes slowly opening to see the very real hard on belonging Youngjae bopping, wet with precum.

Rolling them over, and only once Youngjae was once again secure under him, Jinyoung pulled out, and tied off the condom, dropping it into the bin for him to flush once he’d taken care of Youngjae.

He held his gaze for a moment before dipping his back, mouth licking the sensitive head of Youngjae’s cock once again, looking up through hooded eyes at the man. “I’ve got you.” Jinyoung whispered before he took the head in his mouth, tongue tracing slowly and surely along the tip in a brief moment before he fell forwards and took as much as he could in his mouth, hand compensating for the rest.

Youngjae’s hands curled in his hair, pulling him down with his thrusts up, creating a beat that Jinyoung needed only to follow, and truthfully, he didn’t mind the domination, the burn of his follicles almost pleasurable. Not that he really allowed himself to dwell on how good it felt to be told and instead on the way his tongue flattened and his cheeks hollowed and the soft hum in his throat had Youngjae’s hips rolling eagerly into his mouth.

“I’m…fucK…” those squeaked words were all the warning Jinyoung got before he pulled off his cock with a soft sound, spit pulling from his bottom lip to cling to the tip of Youngjae’s cock. “…gonna come…” they were spoken a little too late as white stripes, fell back on to Youngjae’s chest, a few straw drops falling in Jinyoung’s hair where he’d not pulled away fast enough.

Apologies weighed in Youngjae’s eyes and he could tell that he didn’t mean to but Jinyoung didn’t mind, this was just one of the things that happened during a hook-up. “Don’t worry babe, lemme clean you up.” Leaning forwards, hand falling from where it was holding a still twitching cock, Jinyoung pressed a soft kiss to Youngjae’s cheek, a promise that he’d be back to heat the bed soon.

Clean up was simple, he thought, as he dropped the condom in the toilet and flushed it while the hot water ran from the tap, soaking a hand towel he’d pulled from a drawer.

That was what he thought as he wiped the come from Youngjae’s stomach, and kissed the spots that had fallen on his cheeks.

That was what he thought as he dropped the cloth into the sink, leaving it to his future self to deal with, and fell back into bed; drawing the covers around himself.

Apparently Youngjae didn’t agree.

Youngjae moved to get out the bed, crawling across the top of the covers to grab his underwear from where he’d thrown them in his haste to get any and all clothing off. Jinyoung could tell, even as he stared up at the ceiling that he was hoping he’d fallen asleep from the post-sex exhaustion. He was tempted to let him go, the taste of his too many similar situations bitter on his tongue as he watched the curve of his back as he tried to grab his clothing. “Thank you.” Jinyoung said the words almost before he’d even registered he wanted to say them and Youngjae started at the break of the silence.

“What do you mean? It was just sex.” Youngjae’s voice was shaky in the dark and Jinyoung knew that he wasn’t the only one to hear it as his back stilled, no longer trying to reach his briefs.

Scratching his stomach, the exhaustion from their previous activities did begin to settle in Jinyoung’s bones but the cool of the night and empty bed beside him was enough to force him to sit up. “It was pretty good sex by my standards, and they’re generally pretty high.” he commented, dragging the sheets with him as he crawled up to close the space between he and Youngjae, arm sliding around his waist.

The other man’s head quickly swivelled the zero in on the touch of Jinyoung’s hand on the bare skin of his waist, eyes burning on the trail of his fingers against his waist. “What’re you doin’?” he asked, voice clearly weighed with the same tiredness that Jinyoung could feel pulling at the corners of his eyes.

A yawn escaped despite Jinyoung’s better instincts, followed closely by a small laugh as he looked innocently up at Youngjae. “I’m pullin’ you back to bed? It’s warmer there ‘nd you don’t need to wear clothes.” he bopped his head in agreement with his own points and pouting at the obstacle to him getting back to sleep.

Youngjae looked swayed for but a moment before his hands came to pull at Jinyoung’s fingers, trying to pry them off, albeit reluctantly. “It’ll be awkward in the morning, and I know myself, I won’t be able to get up before breakfast. Leaving after breakfast is always weird.” He’d stopped listening after the second excuse, pulling Youngjae back down to a horizontal position, tucking him close. “Jinyoung, it’ll be weird.” and despite his words Jinyoung could feel him relaxing against his body, feet coming to tangle in his legs, hands curling around the arms holding him close.

“Shut up, I’ll cook you breakfast.”

He did. At least six times.

Lunch too.

It took him a few tries to get Youngjae to agree to dinner though.

AN//

i'm setting up commissions because i am a poor university student and i want to not be poor! commision me here

#2young #fic #smut #pwp #got7 fic

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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permanently blue for you,

Hirai Momo is just trying to ride the train in peace when a harried Myoui Mina asks her for the time.

The fic in which Momo is hopelessly gay and Mina is just a little flirtatious.

AU// nonidolverse; trains; fluff; crack-ish

my first time dabbling in girl group writing and while i can’t say i’ve been snatched, i might be coming back to add to this verse, in particular, later on. enjoy!

title from: bruises by chairlift

Rush hour was always Momo’s least favourite time of the day, especially when she wasn’t able to escape work early and get the express trains that were actually express. She’d been lucky enough to snag an actual seat rather than being forced to stand, and there hadn’t been anyone that had needed it more than her so she’d been able to keep it the majority of the ride. Secure in the knowledge that her stop was the last on the line she allowed herself to drift off slightly, music and the flighty chatter of the Tokyo underground lulling her to sleep.

“Do you have the time?” The first time she heard the words Momo brushed them off and assumed they were for someone else, she’d not seen anyone who she’d known before she’d dropped her lids, and it wasn’t usual to approach strangers on the subway.

“Do you have the time?” This time she was a little more doubtful about it not being her, and she creaked open one eye, gazing through the slit at a softly spoken girl, only just now recognising her accent as one from Kobe prefecture.

Worry filled her eyes and Momo felt obligated to try and rid it from them as much as possible, glancing quickly down at her phone and back up again. “5:09…” she trailed off before laughing out a quick “pm”, smile safe on the girl’s face.

The girl asking nodded in a quick response, thanks in her eyes and tension falling from her shoulders. Momo guessed that meant she wasn’t going to be late for whatever she was worried about. She stayed standing, towering over Momo with the added height of platformed school shoes, ones that made her feet ache in unpleasant sympathy. “You can sit with me if you want. There’s not another stop for about twenty minutes.” Momo spoke, glad the girl wasn’t wearing headphones and she wouldn’t need to disturb other passengers.

Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth still standing girl once again nodded in thanks, tucking quickly into the spot Momo had scooched over to create. “Thank you.” she whispered, eyeing the grumpy looking grandpa on the other side of the cart.

“Not at all.” Momo said, voice bold in the silence, then a beat before she added,“My name is Momo by the way.”

“I’m Mina.”

Mina. Momo narrowed her eyes, tracing the patterns of scuffed train floors before turning to her subway companion, “Wait so, what’s the symbol?” she asked, a touch of amusement in her voice, casting a curious look over Mina’s chest, looking for any type of badge she could read it from.

Her efforts earn her a small laugh and it shouldn’t please Momo the way it does but oddities seem to be the theme of the day and she allows herself to revel in the chiming sound, filing it away for future recollection. “I don’t have a badge, I graduated a year ago.” Momo nodded, blushing softly, even though she’d had rather innocent intentions her eyes were still trained on her chest for apparently no reason.

“S-Sorry.” She gave a soft bow of her head, clenching her teeth in what she couldn’t decide was either embarrassment or a vague attempt to keep her awkward laughter from bubbling out.

When she did cast a glance up Mina’s eyes had turned to crescents and her cheeks chubby with unaired laughter. “No need to apologise, um, if you have a pen on you I could sketch it on your hand?” Momo jumped at the suggestion. She thought she had a pen still in her pocket and let out a sigh of relief when she felt it through the fabric as she patted.

Mina took the biro with a small dip of her head and Momo caught herself watching the way her lashes caught stray strands of her fringe. “Myou.” she felt the tip of the pen tracing over her carefully tended skin, Mina’s left hand holding her hand steady. “I” Her lips wrapped around the syllable and her breath brushed along Momo’s arm, drawing hairs she’d forgotten were even there to attention. “Minami.” Their eyes met as Mina straightened from writing the characters on Momo’s hand and it was all she could do to break her gaze in order to actually look at them, reminding herself of the reason they were even there.

“Mina-san,” Momo said with a tight smile, trying to hide her amusement before cracking once she spotted the shaking shoulders that told her Mina was trying, and failing, at holding back her laughter.

Mina let out a low groan, hitting Momo’s shoulder as she huffed out one more laugh and fell back into her seat. “Please, most people call me ‘Mina-chan’ because of that very problem…” Momo smirked a little, giving a quick look back to her hand before looking back to catch the gaze of Mina.

“Well then, it’ll be our thing, me calling you Mina.” She said it before she’d really thought through the implications of what the words meant but that suited Momo just fine, thinking usually lead to headaches later on. “You’ll have to decide on what you’re going to call me, I can’t be going around, making up nicknames for myself.” she nodded sagely to herself, eyes dropping shut for a moment before opening up again to see Mina’s gaze well and truly held on her.

“I think I’ll stick to Momo-chan, unless you want something else?” Her voice had dropped this time, even though the grandpa had rolled over, clearly asleep and not paying attention to their conversation. Momo sniffed briefly, caught on how nice her voice sounded on Mina’s lips and fisted her hands in her skirt, hoping the vaguely scratchy material could ground her at least a little. Speaking seemed to be a bit too much of a risk so she just nodded, throat bopping a little as Mina’s eyes openly roamed her face. “Good.”

It wasn’t that Momo was shocked into silence, it was more her inexperience with striking up conversations with people other than those she worked with and the ones that she’d met while attending school. Mina didn’t seem keen on pursuing chatting either, and the only words shared between them were fleeting comments on a woman’s shoes as she went to the bathroom or the way the grandpa across from them sniffled in his sleep.

Strangely though, the silence was nice and Momo felt herself slightly upset when she heard the ping of the doors warning that they were about to open. This wasn’t her stop but she could tell from the way that Mina was gathering up her things that this was her’s and knowing their luck they wouldn’t come across each other again. Before she had a chance to stop her though, Mina was pulling the pen from Momo’s hand and scribbling something messy on the other side.

Her jaw still open to ask what she was writing for Mina bolted through the doors, and despite herself Momo let out a sigh of relief when she saw that her new friend didn’t get caught in the doors.

A cursory glance at her hand left Momo confused until she realised Mina had written the traditional way: vertically. Letting out a soft laugh she reset her line of sight and traced down the lines to read the full message.

Call me sometime! If you want to of course. I don’t work except for Saturdays so we should meet up in Akihabara sometime!!! 819017901357

As the sound for the doors opening once again tolled and Momo gathered up her things, she wondered if they would just stay friends.

She hoped not.

AN//

i'm setting up commissions because i am a poor university student and i want to not be poor! commision me here

#mimo #twice #twice fic #fic #fan fic

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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i can explain (no i can’t)

All Chanyeol wants to do is come home from work and proceed to work some more in his home office. Jongdae has other plans.

Jongdae manages to get himself stuck where he shouldn’t be.

based on the tweet: im babysitting my neighbours dogs tomorrow. He didn’t ask me to, I'm just gonna take over when he goes to work.

a gross abuse of my abilities of a writer and i hope none of you hate me too much for it. pls try and enjoy. also: unbeta-ed

Chanyeol let out a breath, pressing his index finger to his bluetooth as he climbed out of the car, briefcase safe in his hand. This was going to be a long call, he’d ducked out of the office before their Junmyeon had gotten back to them about changing the trajectory of the project but he needed to get back. Monshi was still a young pup and he needed to be there at least some of the time, she wasn’t going to be properly socialised otherwise. At least if he was home he could work and just get her used to other people being around her.

He noticed as he unlocked the front door that she wasn’t barking as loudly as she usually did when he got home and worry began to worry at the edge of his consciousness. Was she okay? It wasn’t snake season and he was pretty sure there was no gaps in his gate so something serious would have needed to happen for her to not be heralding his arrival.

Routine usually dictated that Chanyeol would place his briefcase on the kitchen counter and shuffle into his home office, switching his computer as he’d never even left work, routine also went out the window when he looked through his back doors and saw someone halfway across the fence. That’s right, he wasn’t inside his yard, more sort of stuck as if he’d been attempting to climb across and then found the task impossible, hanging there rather than climbing back down. Dropping his briefcase and allowing, Kyungsoo to rattle on in his ear, Chanyeol quickly moved through his small living area, pulling back the glass doors with a coordination he was surprised by given the situation.

“What in the hell are you doing on my fence?” Chanyeol asked, and he probably would have raised his voice further were it not for the way the man already jumped at the sound of his semi-yell. His feet still planted on the tiny patio space, Monshi traipsed over, jumping up high, licking at his hand, a move he’d not expected to see from her any time soon. Usually she barked and even bit at his hand if he dared put it near her head.

Turning his attention back to the man still stuck on the fence he was greeted with furrowed brows and what he could only guess to be an apologetic pout. “My name is Jongdae. I heard your dog. I wanted to say hello.” And in spite of the fact that he was half hanging over Chanyeol’s side of the fence Jongdae seemed to believe this was a perfectly reasonable excuse to be there — almost to the point that Chanyeol was inclined to believe him. Almost.

Raising a brow, Chanyeol took a few steps towards the area of the fence that Jongdae was hanging over, eyes trailing along his body and starting a little at how short he appeared to me. “Why are you dangling like that? Like why didn’t you just climb back down?” he asked, leaning against the fence and looking down at Jongdae’s face.

“Well it goes like this,” Jongdae paused and Chanyeol leaned closer, narrowing his eyes as he tried to give a silent guess at what his explanation would be now, instead all he was rewarded with was Jongdae’s fingers squeezing his nose tightly. “There is no story you giraffe, just not everyone is born with stilts for legs.” The comment probably would have been more scathing if Jongdae wasn’t looking up at him from an angle level with his chest and his legs weren’t dangling awkwardly on the other side of the fence.

The thrum of a hum rumbled through Chanyeol’s chest, that turned into a laugh as it burst into the open air. “D’you want some help to get down or are you gonna keep pretending that you’re not lookin’ ridiculous right about now?” he asked, smirk pulling at the right side of his mouth, matching his already raised eyebrow.

What Jongdae did couldn’t really be counted as hesitation before he stretched out his arms and twinkled his fingers. Holding back his laughter shook Chanyeol’s body as he tucked his arms around Jongdae’s midriff, scratchy sweater irritating his skin as he lifted the man up and over the fence. Shorter man safely on the ground Chanyeol was about to speak before Monshi ran over from where she’d been scratching against the door to get in. “How’d you get her to calm down? I’ve been trying to get her to chill for the last month.” he asked, small smile coming to his features as Monshi ran between their legs playfully.

Even when he was standing squarely across from Chanyeol, Jongdae was fairly short, at least a head between them, a big head. “I just gave her some of the treats left over from when my brother and his wife visited with their dog,” Chanyeol watched as his eyes turned to nothing more than gentle curves and his mouth that was already turned up the edges pulled into an even wider smile. He had to remind himself that it was odd to find someone that had practically trespassed on your property good looking.

The reminder didn’t work and Chanyeol let his eyes roam the ruffled hair of Jongdae, narrowing his gaze as they settled once again on the man’s overly warm smile. “Okay…well, thank you I guess? She seems a lot more relaxed. I was gettin’ worried about her.” That at least wasn’t a lie, Chanyeol was thankful and knowing that he had someone on hand that could get Monshi to behave was pretty encourage — he’d been despairing a little on how to care for her.

Jongdae bopped his head a little, even rocking on his feat a little before leaning around Chanyeol and pointing towards the fence that led out of his yard. “I should probably get going then…” he trailed off as he turned his eyes from the gate and back to Chanyeol. There wasn’t really anything that he could do other than agree so Chanyeol nodded, flashing him a quick smile before stepping aside, clearing the way to the gate.

There was a bit of awkward shuffling but Jongdae was out the gate in no time, retreating safely over to his side of the fence, Chanyeol too began to head inside, wondering if they’d ever speak again when he heard the man’s voice floating across the fence.

“Call out to me any mornings you need help! I’m a writer so as long as I’ve got my laptop I’m okay to dogsit~!”

In spite of all better sense Chanyeol found himself calling out the affirmative as he toed his shoes off before he headed inside, Monshi hot on his heels.

AN// written before chanyeol had revealed toben!!! ALSO i'm setting up commissions because i am a poor university student and i want to not be poor! commision me here

#chenyeol #chandae #chanchen #fic #exo fic #exo #fan fic

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

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(want to be abused)

Chanyeol and Jongdae are into some kinky stuff. At least some nights they are. Others, well, others they just cuddle. Not tonight though.

//smut; bdsm; ropeplay

rarely, if ever, does my truly kinky side come out but the song this was inspired by came up in conversation and I just had to write a fic based on the titular (of this fic) line. i hope you enjoy this short fic, and appreciate the true duality that chenyeol can bring to things!

title from: Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

Jongdae’s back arched and he felt the rope pull, dragging its way across his torso, brushing against his nipple and snapping back into place as the stretch was expended and he was forced back into his previous position. His efforts earnt him a disapproving smack against the sensitive skin of his thigh from someone he’d almost forgotten was there. “Ch-Chanyeol, please,” he didn’t mean to gasp the words, didn’t mean for them to be pressed into his duck down pillow, didn’t mean the disobedience, but it had happened and he heard the disapproving tuts from his fiancé.

Chanyeol’s hands slid over Jongdae’s ass, fingers covering the soft curve with ease and clenched, dragging their nails across the already red flesh, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Just the way he liked. Jongdae had to bite his lip to hold back a gasp that would have him earning another swat across the rear, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to avoid it. “Be a good boy like I told you sweetie,” the endearment cut sharp against the sting of Chanyeol’s hand print, the contrast had Jongdae’s curling and his chest heaving threateningly against the thick ropes.

He’d only been like this ten minutes, not counting the semi-eternity it’d taken for them to get the ropes just the right level of tight, and Jongdae was already a squirming mess. Teeth pulling bittersweet on his bottom lip, he held in the cries for attention his body was begging to let free and instead arched his back to the slow creep of Chanyeol’s hand up his spine. Soft touches feathered against his ribs and wet lips pressed to the nape of his neck, those were the reminders of other shared nights, shades of who Chanyeol could be, who he would be once this drew to a close. Jongdae’s head rolled on his shoulders, stretching as he arched to the rub of Chanyeol’s obvious hard-on, ass only enticing the man to drape his body across Jongdae’s further. “I know you want me.” he teased the words out, voice rough with the friction the rope pressed into his skin.

The sheets pulled taut under Jongdae’s body and he knew he’d pressed Chanyeol enough to get what he wanted. A gruff, “Do you now?” pressed itself against the shell of his ear before another swift smack filled the air and Jongdae was forced back into contrition, cries of pleasure dying as they hit the air. Chanyeol only proved him right though, once again, dragging his crotch along his ass as he pulled away, more to tease him than anything else.

“I could help you.” Jongdae only manages to get the last word out by a breath before Chanyeol’s hand is tightening around his throat, skirting at a kink that had only been in Jongdae’s fantasies. That is, up until now. His hands were big enough that Chanyeol had no problem pressing his thumb and index finger down, leaving Jongdae all heady with that desperate gasp for air he’d barely considered mentioning to his fiancé. He didn’t quite know how Chanyeol did but now was no time for questioning and Jongdae let himself into the hold, flexing his wrists in the hold of a rope Chanyeol had pulled from the depths of their closet.

Their bodies melded together, and insistent roll against the bed and a chase of friction neither of them could get enough of. “Could you now?” Chanyeol’s voice was breathy, worn thin by a barely hidden desire to fuck Jongdae senseless, and it wore at the edges of Jongdae’s self control. Fuck knows how much he wanted Chanyeol’s strength of will to snap so he could wake up sore, and taken the next morning.

A growl pressed itself from Jongdae’s lips and spilt on to the bed, coiling in the soft curve of the silk and soon winding its way under Chanyeol’s skin. “Yes, yes I could. And you’d enjoy every second of it.” His head jerked back with a pull from his dom, fingers tight in strands of his hair and Jongdae felt a cocky smile crack across his face. “Oh you would wouldn’t you, baby? Be beggin’ me like I’m meant to be begging you.” From the angle his head had been pulled at, Jongdae could see the blown pupils of the man above him and he was tempted to press further into the fantasy but Chanyeol’s gritted teeth and rutting hips told, Jongdae he’d already won.

“Fine.”

Chanyeol flashed him one of those smiles that didn’t belong in the moment, the same one that he’d shone the moment after Jongdae had said yes, and a reminder that the man Chanyeol was right now wasn’t the be all and all. It was precious in the heat of the moment and Jongdae kept it close to his chest as Chanyeol pulled at the rope until he rolled over, still under him and at his mercy.

Jongdae rolled his gaze forwards resolutely, arms going slightly numb with the weight of his body on them and parts of Chanyeol’s as well. “What do you want me to do?” the obedience was put on, as they both knew, Jongdae was at best, a bratty sub and always left their bedroom encounters with a smarmy smirk on his face. Chanyeol got nothing but amusement from Jongdae’s attempts to pretend but it was fun to try anyway, nothing wrong with something other than sexual entertainment in the bedroom.

Chanyeol’s hand slipped off where it had held tight at Jongdae’s throat and instead slipped two fingers into Jongdae’s mouth. “I want you to work your pretty little mouth, all for me.” His eyes fluttered shut, and Jongdae reverted back to what he knew would pull Chanyeol apart before putting him right back together again. “That’s good baby,” He knew what as coming, could sense it in the air before he heard the scrape of a zipper coming down, and the soft sound of dress pants rustling against silk.

This was where they fell into a routine that was the same no matter the ropes that wound around Jongdae’s chest, no matter what knots bound his hands together and what weights crushed the feeling from his arms. Chanyeol’s cock filled his mouth in a simplicity that only they could manage, pushing his lips back into a tried and true technique, tongue toying with a few flicks and teases until fingers pulled his head back, a warning of what could happen. “Keep it simple.” Chanyeol’s lip pulled up in a warning and Jongdae bobbed his head, taking in his dick until it hit the back of his throat and made his eyes water with the effort.

He did keep it simple, moving with a brutal efficiency that only came over him when he was bound like this, when Chanyeol had ordered him, when there was nothing but Chanyeol’s climax awaiting him. Jongdae flatted his tongue along the length of Chanyeol’s cock before flicking it back and teasing at the slit, toying with the weaknesses only he knew. Fingers twisted tighter in his hair and he knew he was pushing all the right buttons, tongue running the right path, and Jongdae only cemented his expertise with the hollowing of his cheeks and the slow hum that ran up from his diaphragm and into his mouth.

A punched out gasp made its way into the air in front of Chanyeol and Jongdae felt him slump forwards, struggling against the presumptive coil in his stomach and the roil of desire deep in his abdomen. “Fuck, Jongdae,” There it was, there was the breaking down of the façade that Chanyeol put up whenever they did this, crumbling down came the walls that he built up as he smacked obedience into his fiancé and out came the man that was weak only for Jongdae.

Jongdae kept up his work, rolling his tongue with a skill the was only learnt while your hands were tied behind your back and your tongue was all you had to work with, teasing Chanyeol until he was about to fall across the edge.

His warning came before Chanyeol probably thought to give it but with the skirt of his gaze along the straining arm muscles above him, Jongdae could see the pre-emptive tense, the warning before the warning. “Jongdae,” the second syllable strained with words Chanyeol didn’t need to say and Jongdae braced himself for the hit of cum against the back of his throat. It came with another grunt and the loosening of all of Chanyeol’s muscles.

A few blinks were the only signs that Jongdae was fazed, and that was the way he knew Chanyeol liked it, he liked to watch him swallow with obedience, unbothered and accepting of his duties.

Cocky and bratty as he was, the satisfied smirk that tainted Chanyeol’s face as he undid Jongdae’s ropes and let him know that he was going to have to wait another time for release, that was the real pleasure he sought.

AN//

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#chenyeol #chandae #chanchen #fic #exo fic #exo #bdsm

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miraclemin-blog · 8 years ago

Text

get what you deserve

Oh Sehun is hopelessly in love with Kim Junmyeon through the lens of his camera.

AU: idolverse. solo!junmyeon/fansite!sehun

written for my lovely friend courtney (follow her on twitter @/nomjoonie), i love her a lot and this has been rotting in my WiPs folder since July so today is the day i put her out of her misery. please enjoy my poorly cobbled together seho and find me funny. it fuels my ego.

title from: First Things First - Neon Trees

velleity ; noun /vɛˈliːɪti/

formal

A wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action;

Sunshine hurt his eyes and anything that wasn’t refracted by a camera lens was often too much for Oh Sehun; such was the life of a fansite master. He was all too familiar with two types of bags, those that belonged to his camera equipment and those that belonged to the late nights and too many coffees. Questions were also something he was intimately familiar with but, after the first two (?) years he’d managed to mute the sarcastic laughter that too often came with being the only, or one of the few, fanboys at events.

Kim Junmyeon’s events to be specific.

Things hadn’t really started out with his intentions being that of becoming a fansite master. It had been a few clicks here and there, a youtube playlist that soon snowballed into a spotify playlist. Buying Junmyeon’s discography had come soon after, and believe him, that was when he thought he was going to stop. Strapped-for-cash college students rarely even considered clicking the ‘buy’ button when scrolling through music on iTunes; but it happened and frankly he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

The money was good, much better than his shitty job at that bubble tea place was paying him (he wasn’t going to name names because he wasn’t successful enough to be burning bridges just yet). So yes, he was a fan, hell that went without saying if you were a fansite and frankly he had no respect for people that were in it just for the money. There weren’t many people that ran sites that weren’t heavy Junmyeon groupies — there were some and they were frowned upon. You could spot them at the fan signs, their only smiles were when they got a shot no other sites had gotten and they always left right after, staying to mingle with fellow fans was mostly definitely not their speed.

Fans knew those sites too though, and subsequently avoided them, hence why Sehun had risen to be one of the more popular sites. Mon Kim, the site run by Kim Jongdae, was also rather popular and Sehun actually had no issues collaborating with Jongdae occasionally. When it came to being a fansite, yes there was competition, but it was all within the interests of good fun.

They all loved Junmyeon just as much.

Or at least that was what Oh Sehun was trying to convince himself of at 5:30 am in the morning when he was running on a health five cups of double shot espresso and two (?) energy drinks. He’d lost count. It had gotten to the point that his fingers weren’t slow on the keyboard, so much as shaking enough to stop them from reaching their destination. While it wasn’t the healthiest hour to be up at, Sehun’s designer had bailed on him at the last second and he was desperately working to secure someone to design his latest fan site project — a feat that wasn’t simple when everyone else had already snapped up the more reliable in the field.

Flopping back in his chair a roll of whatever emotion you felt with the unease of if things were even going to pan out and right before you realised you had reached a point at which caring had stopped being your problem. It was an emotion that he’d felt probably too many times in his career as a full time fansite master but he knew that a roof over his head was worth not giving it up.

Sehun made a sad attempt at ridding his neck of the crinks that had settled in throughout the night but the bone deep exhaustion that had settled in made anything more that cracking his knuckles an arduous task. His chair creaked in protest as he clambered out of the leather bound creation, wincing as the wheels squealed in all their unoiled glory. It was probably a wise decision to do something about that; either by buying another chair in replacement or plucking up the energy to actually lay his hands on some WD-40 or something. In all likelihood he was going to buy another chair, because well, Oh Sehun just didn’t do manual labour that wasn’t taking pictures and elbowing people out of his way for said photos.

Bed was his welcome haven, inviting and warm as he slipped into the freshly pressed sheets. What was not so welcome was his phone, glaring through the darkness as he sleepily pulled up the ‘alarms’ screen, reminding himself unhappily that he would be getting up for the early cuing for one of Junmyeon’s fan greets the next day. The meet itself actually started at 11:30 but if he had any hope of buying any amount of albums he’d need to be there around 6:30 am but he’d allow himself until 7 am because by god he’d been working his ass off.

Sleep came to him slowly, defying any of the writing clichés of sleep swallowing you whole in a wretched night. Instead it rolled on like an insistent storm front, making itself at home on the outer edges of his consciousness and teasing him until it seemed like he wouldn’t have any sleep before he needed to be awake. Fortunately the universe had pity on him and his eyebags, leaving him with 45 hours of hard earnt rest before he even needed to consider even waking up and gathering the equipment he hadn’t had the forethought to pack up before he crawled into bed.

While it would usually be accurate to say that Sehun slept while thinking of Junmyeon, he didn’t even have time to drift to REM sleep before rude and sharp chirps were prying his eyes open. He forced himself to rise out of bed, immediately forgoing the option of a shower in favour of packing up his supplies. Actual solids were very much off the table with only time to grab a liquid breakfast before he tore out the front door, glasses skewed and eyebags still very much intact.

The things Oh Sehun would do for Kim Junmyeon.

Once again Jongdae and he were the only men in the line and while it did thoroughly amuse him, Sehun wasn’t about to push the envelope of Jongdae’s put out pout. “I wish more fanboys appreciated him.” There were about 1001 reasons that wasn’t about to happen any time soon but Sehun saved his friend the reality check and instead opted with pulling his camera out of its bag, checking the lenses carefully. Jongdae rambled on behind him, encouraged by the undulating wave of girls that did nothing but squeal a little louder with each passing official-ish looking car.

“There are some, they fund our sites remember? They’re just not coming to the events because they feel judged man. Toxic masculinity and all, y’know?” It wasn’t really an original thought but rather one that he’d seen echoed around on his site a couple times, lurking in the corner of the forums and such. “I’ve had to step in a couple of times on my site even, when the female fans have gotten too clingy and all over Junmyeon.” He admitted, face souring a little as he recalled the bitter responses that he’d gotten in the moments before they realised that he was indeed the site runner and they wouldn’t have pictures of their precious oppa™ were it not for him. Call him cynical but while he ran a fansite he still disliked the greed that some of his patrons displayed when he wasn’t quick enough in putting up the HDs or any other variety of perceived faults on his part.

Spoiler: Sehun did this for the fun and appreciation of Junmyeon with the money a nice aside. Besides, sometimes he just really needed a nap after music shows or concerts.

Jongdae’s fist hit his side in a teasing punch that Sehun would usually let pass but it knocked his camera and he could have sworn his life flashed before his eyes as the lens stalk hit the pole he was standing beside. A death glare blinked through the space that spanned between he and Jongdae, reminding the man that Sehun would not hesitate to sabotage any and every shot he was planning to capture today. “Wanting Junmyeon…like that? I think it’s fine for both genders. I mean I’m personally not y’know.” The statement as a whole was fine and Sehun did indeed agree with it, hell he’d be a little hypocritical to be saying that people shouldn’t find others of the same sex hot (sue him, Junmyeon was sexy when he wanted to be). What he took issue with was the final implication that Jongdae didn’t swing that way, a thing they both knew to be a lie.

A teeny tiny scoff defied Sehun’s attempt to keep quiet and simply reward his friend with a smirk. Figuring that all of his chances of maintaining the tsundere look he usually cultivated in order to avoid talking to weird people, his surprised formed into words. “Are you trying to tell me that you and Chanyeol aren’t…?” he trailed off and left it to the raise of his right eyebrow to communicate his point.

Realization did eventually dawn across Jongdae’s face but god, it was a long time coming and Sehun had been about to give up that entire line of conversation; the comprehending ‘OhhhHH’ even came just as he’d opened his mouth to pursue another line of question. While it was tempting to press on with what he was going to say, seeing Jongdae squirm with the question provided reasonable entertainment. Sehun resigned himself to leaning agains the fence for at least another hour and after a quick towards the front of the line, turned his attention to Jongdae.

Slowly though, rather than being polite and allowing him to enjoy the steady blossom of a blush on his friend’s face, the fangirls around him began a roar that he knew only came out when their idol was arriving. Bitter as he was, Sehun wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get some good shots; quickly he grabbed the camera, hoping quietly that the lens wouldn’t distort Junmyeon horribly, especially considering how close they were. It’d be a lie to say that a lump didn’t catch in his throat as the older man walked by, all sashaying hips and confidence that could only be founded on thousands of people hanging on your every word. If it was anyone else, Sehun would have cracked out a sarcastic reply to the ethereal beauty that was passing in front of him. In reality, all he could do was stare.

In fact he was staring so hard that Sehun actually forgot to bring the camera to his eye, forgot to press down the ‘capture’ button to activate fast shutter mode and capture every single thing the singer did. Were there a moment for one to admit that they weren’t entirely straight, this would have been Sehun’s. Unfortunately he'd confronted that fact the moment he’d woken up after Junmyeon’s latest album release with sheets slightly stickier than he would have liked. Letting a curse hit the wind Sehun did eventually bring the camera up to his face, shuttering a few shots, consoling himself with the fact that other fansite’s arms would be weak now and he might capture some rare photos.

God had apparently decided that photos weren’t what Sehun was meant to catch that morning, instead sending a strong wind and an over-enthusiastic fan slamming into his side. It wasn’t the falling that Sehun minded so much as the embarrassment; he fell over with precious things in his arms all the time so this was hardly a new development. What was new, was the falling over in front of him, Kim Junmyeon. A sharp clatter broke through the haughty tension that were the girls clamouring to get the singer’s attention, only turning as the sound of a lens shattering sliced the airwaves in two, demanding attention for both Oh Sehun and his broken goods.

Ever so slowly, Sehun could feel his world collapsing around him, crashing and slamming against his head with a low chuckle that sprinkled the air and left the girls around him swooning. Kim Junmyeon was laughing at him, and while he��d always tried to seperate business from fun, it hurt to feel those beautiful eyes watching him and laughing. Lifting his head felt like the opposite of what he wanted to do, but he knew that if he was going to maintain any sort pretences he’d need to look up eventually. Silence had settled eventually and Sehun’s shoulders didn’t feel like they were being watched so intensely so he scrambled up, grabbing his camera and glancing quickly at his shattered lens before deciding against risking the cuts.

Everything would have been fine really, if only he hadn’t been met with the worried eyes of a certain hallyu star. Specifically speaking, Kim Junmyeon. “I didn’t realise that you broke your lens! I thought you’d just stumbled a little and my manager said something funny and I—god I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have laughed but it was…pretty funny….” he rattled off the apology and Sehun would have passed it off as a set piece he was meant to say were it not for the fact that this was Junmyeon. Shuffling on the spot, his feet felt almost like they were stuck, save for a bit of restricted movement; all amounting to him not actually being able to run away like he wanted to. “Are you okay? You’re not cut are you?” Junmyeon continued on, his hands stretching out to touch Sehun’s shoulders before being pushed down by one of the security guards.

A small crowd had gathered around them by this time, both curious as to what the worry was and clamouring for even a look at their idol — either way it amounted in Sehun not really being able to process what was going on. “I-I don’t think I am.” he tried to focus in on the second question, not really bothering to respond to the apology, but making a note of it in his head. “It’s winter so I don’t have much skin exposed,” he offered, hoping that he was making sense and not spouting reasonings that didn’t follow any sort of shared logic. Relief did eventually flood his system as Junmyeon nodded, letting out a sound of agreement before he looked quickly around and clapped a hand on to his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re not too badly hurt. I would stay longer but my manager is giving me that look so if I don’t hurry up he’s gonna yell at me.” Sehun did actually know the look that Junmyeon was referring to, he’d caught it in a couple of his shots, especially the ones where the singer was doing something that he wasn’t strictly meant to be doing. Nodding in understanding he stood back, ruffling his hair and ducking his head in apology towards the manager; god knows how loud he could yell at Jongdae if he was late for an event — he could only imagine that would be amplified were he managing an idol.

He barely had time to let an apology catch on the wind before Junmyeon was hustled into the small complex and he was swamped with fangirls that were suddenly more interested in him than the man they’d come here to see. The predictable questions swarmed in the air, ‘Do you know him?’ ‘Did you save a country in your past life?’ and then some more odd ones, of which his favourite was: ‘How soft were his hands?!’ and the follow up question, ‘WHAT MOISTURISER DO YOU THINK HE USES?!’. Sehun considered actually answering the questions before he felt the cool roll of liquid down his knee, and he was fairly sure he hadn’t urinated so all in all it was likely that it was blood. Jongdae’s subsequent gasp of surprise and fairly clichéd point to his knee, only really confirmed the fact, reminding Sehun of the fact that he had been wearing jeans that had holes at the knee. That explained it.

Wincing as the cut grazed against the rough material that was his jeans, Sehun came to the realisation that he definitely didn’t have any first aid things on his person at all. His lack of any tangible supplies did however, become a relatively minuscule issue once he considered his camera. Along with no first aid supplies, Sehun hadn’t brought any back up extension lenses and there was no time for him to go home and collect a lens that couldn’t even be guaranteed to do what he wanted. “Fuck, shit.” He grumbled, kicking his foot against the gravel, immediately to regret his decision once his uncovered graze once again brushed with his jeans.

“Children.” Jongdae hissed out, a warning of a reprimand that wouldn’t dare deal out — especially considering the amount of dirt Sehun had on him. Chanyeol, older than them he was, still wasn’t ready to hear some of the things that came out of Jongdae’s mouth about him.

Blood well and truly smudged along the inside of his pants, Sehun didn’t really have anything he couldn’t complain about. Plans ruined and body aching from the shock (and irritation); he was stuck in line for something that now, seemed rather redundant to attend. “Children,” Sehun started, mocking the tone that Jongdae had adopted, as if feigning he wasn’t one of the more kinky people Sehun had encountered, “didn’t just have their one and a half thousand dollar camera lens ruined, so frankly — I don’t give a shit about their pretty little ears right now.” Sehun fluttered his lashes a couple of times, “Jongdae.” He could tell that his friend thought of snapping out a reply but with the sickly sweet honey that dripped from his name he rethought and nodded instead, gesturing for Sehun to continue on as he was.

Sehun could tell that Jongdae was hesitant to touch him before his fingers even brushed against his shoulders, the sensation muffled by the layers that came with a Seoul winter. “M-Maybe…” Jongdae’s words fell silent with the glaring gaze he was offered as Sehun’s reply. “Maybe…” he was brave, Sehun would give him that; though considering his current mood, there seemed to be a thin line between ‘brave’ and ‘stupid’. “Maybe, you could just enjoy the show? I’ll try and take as many photos as I can so you can have some so it doesn’t look like you totally flaked. I know how fangirls can be.” Third time seemed to be the charm for Jongdae and Sehun had to admit that he couldn’t see that much wrong with his reasoning.

Charity wasn’t something that Oh Sehun usually accepted but right now he wasn’t really in a position to actually say no. He would have strips torn off him if he didn’t have any photos, even if it wasn’t his comeback stage, that had only been a couple of days ago so people were still hungry for photos of him that weren’t just the corporate provided ones. Aware of the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to lord his knowledge of the things Jongdae had said about Chanyeol over his head for at least a month, Sehun ceded that he needed the help with a meek nod.

A smirk that told him Jongdae knew exactly what he’d just negotiated flickered across his friend’s face, and a while he was irritated at having given up some bargaining power; Sehun felt relaxed.

It had been exactly a year and nine months since the last time Sehun’s vision of Kim Junmyeon hadn’t been fractured by the lens of a camera, or any other type of screen (not counting their encounter outside the filming studios). He’d actually forgotten what it felt like to be a regular fan at one of these things, getting numbered and not having to be verified as a ‘proper’ fansite. There were girls (and probably boys) that were most likely attending one of these showings for the first and possibly last time and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little guilty for not appreciating his opportunities properly.

While his duty as a fansite master was usually that of sitting up in the seats, surrounded by the tripods and other gear that helped those who couldn’t get their arms above the sea of heads (Jongdae), this time Sehun was nestled snug against the stage and other fellow fans. A pang of guilt did resound in his heart as he glanced back to catch the eye of Jongdae and the man was alone in a sea of female fansite masters. He knew that the solidarity of having Sehun with him was what had encouraged Jongdae to really flourish in the community so leaving him alone did make him feel…not worried…actually, he was more proud than anything else. This time Jongdae was the one that had his back.

Not having his camera resting heavily in his fingers did feel odd to Sehun, and a few times during the warm up he did freak out momentarily before remembering. Today was for Junmyeon, well, it always was, but he meant that it was for him purely; no photos or anything, all of Sehun’s attention would be on him.

Beats kicked up in the air around them, bouncing off each wall, fine acoustics channeling the sounds perfectly as Junmyeon stepped out on to the stage, sweater tucking in close to his waist and straight jeans inciting every distinctly NON-straight thought Sehun thought he could have. In those few breaths Sehun had as Junmyeon brought the microphone to his lips, he gulped down as much air as possible, knowing he was about to have every stolen gasp and sigh knocked out of him. Silence save for the ebb and flow of the piano flooded the studio, every eye on Kim Junmyeon, all of them waiting for the exact same thing as Sehun.

The first strains that perhaps didn’t even need a microphone to be heard cut the breaths each individual was holding, resulting in a collective sigh as Junmyeon pulled each audience member into their own private reverie. Sehun’s attention was unblinkingly draw the perfect formation of each word, Junmyeon’s lips almost acting independently of all laws of beauty to create a sound that rivalled the beauty of one’s name being called out by their lover.

Perhaps that was what this was for Sehun, a reminder of just how much he loved and appreciated the man who was right there, so close and yet so far. He found himself mouthing the words by reflex, eyes glued to the man in front of him, losing himself in the music just the same as the other fans. In that moment, just as Sehun was about to slip his eyes closed, to fully lose himself to the sound and the beat, their eyes met and a smile cracked across Junmyeon’s lips. Doing something that even the declaration of World War Three would be pressed to do, his smile snapped Sehun out of it, and his feet, where they’d been moving freely, he tripped, falling into someone’s elbow. To say it was one of the less enticing things he’d done in quite sometime would be an understatement.

Pain kicked in before the embarrassment, though it was hotly followed by a burning on his cheeks that definitely didn’t belong to the slap of skin against skin. His nose and eye hurt too much for him to notice that the music had fallen quiet and there were scattered gasps in the crowd. Right now Sehun’s main focus was making sure he hadn’t actually broken his nose — his supplementary career as a small time model didn’t really need to be jeopardised, especially considering his looming camera costs. “Are you okay?” The voice was amplified and yet close by, and there was feedback of a microphone being set down on the ground. Sehun didn’t piece together evidence until hands hooked under his shoulders and pulled him up to a standing position once again. “Do I need to call an ambulance?” The question was punctuated by the soft trickle of cool blood down and over Sehun’s lips.

By now the whispers had amplified and were periodically cut through by Jongdae’s ‘Sehun-ah!’s and his desperately scrambling to get all their gear packed up while also trying to wade down to his friend’s side. Those broad hands were still fixed on his shoulder and as the blackness of the pain crept back from the edges of his eyes, Sehun finally had the time to catch a glimpse of the man by his side.

Kim Junmyeon stared back at him. Eyes warm and compassionate, every thought that was racing through Sehun’s head slowed and once again the universe narrowed, whispers and gasps falling away as their eyes met. “You were singing beautifully.” He blurted out, eyes wide and shocked, not entirely sure what he was meant to say, “Sorry for interrupting.” An attempt to bow forwards was blocked by those fateful hands, holding his shoulders back and as an unsurprisingly dazzling smile blossomed across his face.

“You’re the one who got hurt at my concert and you’re apologising?” While Sehun knew it was a rhetorical question, he could tell as such from the mirth that tinged each word, he still felt compelled open his mouth and offer an explanation. Junmyeon’s finger came down to silence him, pressing against his semi-parted lips, uncalloused, making Sehun think of that moisturiser question from earlier. “Now I’m gonna ask again, do I need to call an ambulance?” Sehun had hoped he’d avoided the question by blurting out his stupid response but it hadn’t saved him, instead leaving him to laugh awkwardly and try and brush the question off.

Shuffling a little away from Junmyeon so he could tip his head forwards, hoping to prevent the flow of blood to the back of his throat, it was pretty obvious that yes, Sehun needed to go and see someone. “Maybe, but please don’t worry about me, my friend…” he trailed off as Jongdae slide into the situation, tiny hand resting on the small of his back and most likely looking positively ridiculous with all their camera gear strapped to his back. “…he can call for me.”

A hiss of dissent from Jongdae has Sehun looking up, shooting him a look to rival Kyungsoo’s whenever Baek pretended he didn’t have the remote on their movie nights. “Sehun-ah, I wouldn’t say I can…” HIs brow pulled up at Sehun surveyed his friend’s face, daring him to be joking in a time like this. Unfortunately he wasn’t and Jongdae’s face took on an expression of apology he’d not seen since the time Chanyeol had forgotten to wake him up while he was tanning. “I left my phone at home today, things were kind of rushed and I — I forgot.” Fuck. Junmyeon was going to come in all chivalrous, like he seemed to be making a habit of, and Sehun was literally going to be the bleeding idiot.

Sehun ducked his head once again, knowing he could use the excuse of First Aid should he need it, and allowed his gaze to bore holes into the ground, teeth set on edge and shoulders tight. “I’ve got my phone on me. Give me a second to call the ambulance and I’ll let my manager know that I won’t be able to make the rest of the set. This isn’t a major special or anything.” Why Junmyeon was cancelling the show Sehun didn’t really know, nor did he really care, at least if the ambulance was here he’d be able escape the speculative eye of the public and the endearing gaze of Junmyeon.

It was the latter he was more concerned with — like he needed any other excuses to dig himself further into an affection that had no hopes of being reciprocated.

Soon there was only one pair of hands rubbing at his back and shoulders, and they were far too small to below to the singer. “Hyung, why is Junmyeon cancelling his show?” he managed to groan out, vision still slightly blurred at the edges, even fraying into blackness if he tried to focus too hard.

“He said something about going to the hospital with you Sehun, didn’t you hear?” Jongdae’s voice was uncharacteristically serious and he could tell that there was something seriously wrong. His friend nearly never took things seriously unless one of his friends had just gotten hurt, and considering the very real possibility that this had just happened Sehun wasn’t feeling totally inspired.

They bustled out of the main area quickly, and the faint hush that had settled over the crowd surprised Sehun as he heard Junmyeon’s footsteps following them out to meet the paramedics.

Exactly how cliché was it that his last thought before the pain got to him was one about Junmyeon? Granted, it was about his moisturiser but he was pretty sure it still counted.

The ambulance ride was excruciating, a mix of Sehun half passed out, and then brushing off the concerned hands of Junmyeon.

Waiting in hospital was worse, Jongdae fidgeting at his side, worrying about the fact that he’d not been able to text Chanyeol why he was late for their lunch date. Sehun had told him to stop being so whiney, Chanyeol was used enough to them being late for things, being a fansite meant you had a pretty hectic schedule. Being whatever he was to Jongdae, Chanyeol should have known that things had the ability to change on the fly and wouldn’t be too worried about what was going on — though he’d probably be surprised when they came back and Sehun had a broken nose.

Strangely enough though, the person that made the trip the worse wasn’t Jongdae, it was the worried mess at his left side, a certain Kim Junmyeon. “God, I’m so sorry, my fans really need to learn about to calm down sometimes…” Sehun has huffed out an appreciative smile at the apology the first couple of times but by the hundredth utterance of the phrase, it had become a little tired. He appreciated the concern over his health but it just made the blush on his cheeks worse and he found himself regretting agreeing to letting Junmyeon come with them.

They’d already sat through the initial check up, the doctors hadn’t sounded too upset and after some sore poking at Sehun’s nose he was sent back into the waiting room. His nose had pretty obviously been broken when he’d looked into the window of the ambulance, coming in and out of consciousness with what had to be a strong mix of anaesthetic and embarrassment. So really, Sehun was more waiting for whatever prescription the doctors gave him, right before his chance to run the fuck out of here and get the hell away from Junmyeon.

“Are you Oh Sehun?” The same doctor from before stood in the door way, eyes soft as they watched Junmyeon worriedly rubbing Sehun’s back, soothing intentions tainted with the thrum of worry running through his finger tips. Taking on a role that Sehun hadn’t really delegated to him, Junmyeon shot up and out of his seat with an enthusiasm that had a faint smile quirking the edges of Sehun’s lips in spite of the pain rolling from the centre of his face. The poor doctor jumped back a little at the sudden movement, but only before a warm smile settled on his face, eyes drawn back to the habit of bedside manner, poised to assuage the fears of anyone and anything. “Are you his partner?”

Fuck.

Junmyeon’s voice stuttered in the air Sehun almost felt sorry for him as the scrambled, “No, actually, I’m just a friend.” The breath he’d been about to take caught in Shun’s throat as he heard the last word, friend, he supposed they were. One didn’t usually escort strangers to the hospital ward, but Sehun’d just assumed this was some sort of grand gesture of fan service, assumed that this was another one of those times Junmyeon went above and beyond for his fans. The word ‘friend’ hadn’t even occurred to him.

“I’ll let my co-worker know, he was worrying about the famous Kim Junmyeon having a boyfriend. He was rather put out.” Jongdae, worried as he was, choked out a laugh from where he’d sat silent for the last twenty minutes. Sehun followed quickly, biting his lip to hold back a full-blown laugh but when he looked up and saw the scandalised look on Junmyeon’s face he couldn’t manage it anymore and he doubled over, wincing when his hand pressed to his tender cheek.

A skidding sound came to Sehun’s ears at Junmyeon turned between the doctor and Sehun then back again. “You knew who I am?” he asked, voice harried and rising in pitch with every word.

A faint chuckle once again. “Of course, you’re the prize of our country’s entertainment industry, why wouldn’t I recognise you?” When he looked up again, smile still pressed on his face, Sehun was met with the gaping mouth of Junmyeon.

“Junmyeon, it was stupid of you to think that you wouldn’t be recognised, now come on. Jongdae’s silently begging to be let go and I think the forecast says it’s going to start raining soon.” His excuse was feeble, in truth it was pretty funny to watch Junmyeon squirm as he realised his plans had been fucked up but as funny as it was, Jongdae was getting pretty annoying and Sehun wanted to rest up at home. Breaking his nose was going to put him out of work for at least a couple of weeks, and he wanted to get some sleep in before the real implications of financial loss set in. Pouting, Junmyeon conceded the point, bustling over to Sehun’s side as he stood up, hand firm on his shoulder. “Pick up your prescription at the nurses’ desk and just follow the signs to get to the exit. There’s a rolling cab service so you should be able to get a ride if you don’t live close by.” Sehun did live close by actually, it wouldn’t be too much trouble to walk home alone and hopefully he’d be able to convince Junmyeon to leave him at the door.

“Sehun?”

“Jongdae.”

“Chanyeol is probably wor-“

“Go Jongdae, I’m okay to walk home.”

“Thanks.”

A faint chuckle bubbled from Sehun’s chest and the quirk of his eyebrows hurt just a little as he watched his friend skid around the corner, not wanting to disappoint his beau (were they even dating? Sehun wasn’t sure.). “Are you sure that you’ll be able to walk home? I can get us a cab.” In watching his friend run away Sehun had forgotten there was someone waiting for him at his side, arm slung over his should in a faux attempt at supporting him.

Casting a quick glance over at Junmyeon he let out a more hearty effort at laughter once he noticed he was still in his stage outfit, having been too preoccupied with his injury before to have seen. “I’ll be fine. You can catch a cab back to wherever you need to be hyung,” Sehun said the familiar term before he’d even realised it and felt his neck colour in embarrassment, knowing his body his ears were probably red too.

“I don’t think that’ll be an issue, dongaeng,” His toes curled a little at the way Junmyeon didn’t draw any further attention to the slip in his language, and went even further to return it. It was cute. “I’ll walk you home, I mean, it’s the least I can do.” They were still walking a this point and it was with a vague register in his mind that Sehun realised they were by the nurses’ desk.

He raised his hand as a sign to pause the conversation and hurried to the desk, saying his name before the nurses handed him a stack of paper prescriptions and wished him a speedy recovery. Turning back to Junmyeon, watching him for a moment before returning to his side, Sehun huffed out a quick, “Believe me, I think you’ve gone well beyond what the least was, hyung, and I appreciate it.” Junmyeon shook his head but Sehun knew what he was saying was true. They both did.

They walked slow, even though neither of them had any injuries to their feet, uncrushed as they traipsed down the stairs and ducked into the hospital gift shop. Sehun had been right about the rain and had spotted the clouds in the sky through the porthole like windows, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he allowed a hallyu star to get wet, and consequently, sick, on his watch.

Silence felt good though, it was nothing as he paid for the umbrella, nor as they made their way away from the hospital and onto the main, then side roads, that would eventually take Sehun home. It was nice, to just be with Junmyeon and Sehun felt himself enjoying the occasional bump of their hands a little too much. He was wandering into dangerous territory and by the third time it’d happened he decided it was much better to simply focus on where he was walking rather than indulging his feelings further.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever rushed one of my fans to the hospital before. Even rarer for me to walk them home.” Junmyeon’s words pulled Sehun from his focus on the footpath, taking the cracks and watching them to make sure he didn’t trip and embarrass himself more than strictly necessary.

He huffed an awkward laugh, hand coming up to rub the red on his neck, “About that…” he started up, wanting to give an excuse, perhaps even insist that he’d not asked for him to come with him to the hospital. Junmyeon cut him off like he had earlier, except it was too fingers this time, two fingers that came to rest on Sehun’s plush lips, heating his cheeks as he fell into silence.

“It wasn’t a problem. I’m glad you’re okay, well… semi-okay.”Junmyeon’s eyes watched him as the rain dotted the walkway around them, a cheap hospital gift-store umbrella the only thing shielding them from the rain. Sehun would have responded but those fingers were still pressed to his lips, holding them closed, and yeah, okay, he was frozen still by how warm they felt against his skin.

“I should probably get going. Today technically isn’t one of my days off and my manager always likes to make sure that I squeeze in some practice.” It was an excuse that Sehun knew he’d have to hear eventually, the man standing in front of him wasn’t just anyone, he was Kim Junmyeon. A hallyu star, a rising light for the people of Korea on an international stage, and he was here, standing under an umbrella Oh Sehun was holding for him. Junmyeon’s fingers fell away from his face.

He swallowed back any excuses daring to keep Junmyeon, hoping that he could convince himself that it was okay that Junmyeon would get back in his car, and that this day needed to come to an end. “You should.” was all he managed to get out, voice husky with what he convinced himself was an oncoming cold, not ready to really accept the emotion he knew was filling his eyes. “I don’t want your manage to get upset with you. I’m not worth it.” His attempt to joke, to lighten the atmosphere he felt pressing down on him, crushing him with Junmyeon’s smile dazzling behind his eyes, fell on deaf ears.

Instead of the soft smile, the one that Junmyeon always brought out for his interviews when they asked about ideal types, Sehun was met with furrowed brows. A purse of the lips that was all too alike the expression Junmyeon had worn as he’d bundled Sehun up and took him backstage earlier today dusted his face, the idol looking up at him with concern. “Well considering how terrifying he is, I wouldn’t say anyone is but, I’d say…” Junmyeon trailed off, eyes drifting to the ground as Sehun guessed he looked for his words. “…I’d say,” Sehun licked his lips, “that, that I’d feel less bitter about being yelled at if it meant I got to spend a bit more time with you.” He finished his sentence with a curt nod, eyes turned to crescents and hands well and truly wrapped around Sehun’s heart.

Pulling his bottom lip through his teeth, rain hitting his shoulders as Sehun tipped the umbrella further forward to shield Junmyeon, “I’m touched.” The words were simple, spoken with a sentimentality that Jongdae would tease him about for days if he heard them. He didn’t though, the man in front of him did.

The hand traced his jawline for a brief moment, mapping out the gentle curve to where it tapered into his chin, even there it slowed for a moment, thumb coming up and brushing against his bottom lip. Softly, oh so softly, the thumb skirted across the full expanse of his lips, tracing the outline before the hand fell away, once again cupping his jaw, pulling him ever so gently forwards.

Eyes having drifted shut Sehun didn’t know what was going to happen until it did, until he felt the insistent press of those lips, the ones he’d dreamt of touching, those that he’d wished to feel night after night.

Oh Sehun was the one that Kim Junmyeon kissed.

Kim Junmyeon was the one Oh Sehun kissed back.

AN//

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