#AND THE RETURN OF LIGHT HAIRED MINHO

[glassgasoline]

atlantis was VERY serious to me bc wdym they were serving looks like this and it was a REPACKAGE!!!!! the way i listened to it on repeat for months im not even kidding no one gets that song like me im convinced like truly truly they made it for me

[changbunnies]

Hopelessly Devoted To You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Greaser!Bang Chan x fem!Reader

♡ Genre: grease inspired 50s au, some angst and fluff, this was supposed to be a long full length fic but it somehow became just porn with plot lol

♡ Word Count: 11.2k

♡ Summary: You were so excited to see him again– the guy you'd spent your entire summer with, entagled in a fleeting but explosively sweet romance. But the Chris you meet again isn't the one you remember, and now if he wants to win you back he's going to have to prove just how devoted to you he really is.

♡ Warnings: chan is referred to as chris, smoking (cigarettes), some misogyny + toxic masculinity + fuck boy behavior, some 50s references and lingo, 1 instance of reader shoving chan in a fit of anger / sadness, jealous and mildly possessive chan, minor appearances from felix, changbin, minho, and hyunjin (who goes by sam)

♡ Smut Warnings: 1 reference to reader losing their virginity to chan, references / flashbacks to other smut scenes before the main scene, light dom/sub dynamics, switch!chan, pet names (doll, sugar, baby), public sex, car sex, exhibitionism, oral (f rec, referenced m rec), fingering (f rec), nipple play, daddy kink, panty stealing (kind of), squirting, 1 mention of reader having pubic hair, maybe a lil breeding kink??, protected piv

♡ Notes: i've had this sitting in my drafts since december and finally got around to finishing it gfdhgfh this is incredibly self indulgent as grease is one of my fave movies ever and chan as danny zuko is constantly rattling around in my brain. the build up is pretty short (by my usual standards) as i moved the plot along a lot quicker than i normally would so idk if it's my best work but hopefully you enjoy it!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You remember well the first time you met Chris. Lounging aimlessly at the beach with the sunset on the horizon, his feet in the sand with a silver dog tag necklace hanging low over his bare chest, a cigarette from his previously discarded jeans held between his lips. Fresh from the ocean with beads of water still dripping off his toned body, slicking back his damp hair before fumbling through a different pocket for his lighter.

You watched him bring it up to his face after successfully digging it out, cupping his other hand around it to protect the flame as he lit the cigarette in his mouth. You watched him take a long drag, watched him blow the smoke out from the corners of his mouth, watched him sigh before deciding to towel dry his legs enough to wrangle his jeans back on. 

The beach had been quickly growing sparse by the time you spotted him. Groups of friends clearing out to make it to the local diner before all the tables were filled, parents wanting to get their kids to bed before the moon fully rose in the sky, couples on double dates bunching up in one car as they decide to hit the drive-in together.

You yourself were in no rush to leave– you came alone, tired of your parents bickering during what was supposed to be a fun family vacation. You’d stay as long as you could, you’d decided– really soak in the peace the sea brings before returning to your aunt’s beach house, where you were all staying for the summer.

But safe to say, the sight of him enraptured you. He was handsome, devastatingly so– you never expected to see a man with a visage to rival even that of James Dean himself with your own eyes, but there he was before you; and your heart stuttered when he glanced over in your direction.

He had just finished pulling his jeans up and over his haunches when he noticed you, cocking a brow when your eyes met– and you could tell in an instant that he knew you’d been staring at him. His smile made your breath hitch, pretty dimples peeking out on his cheeks as he acknowledged you with a playful wave.

Hesitantly, you lifted your hand and waved back, and he grinned, eyes still locked on yours as he pulled up the zipper of his jeans. He turned back to his belongings on the ground, shook the sand out of his white tee before pulling it on. He grabbed his leather jacket, slung it over his shoulder before turning to look at you once more.

You swallowed, face running hot from his gaze alone– you hoped, as he began walking towards you, that you could play it off as having not put on enough sunscreen before coming here. You were sitting on a towel, legs to your chest with your arms wrapped around them, but you lowered them as he approached you.

He tossed his cigarette to the the side once he was close, letting its flame fizzle out in the sand. He looked you up and down when you stood up, introducing himself with a charismatic smile that made your heart race faster. You stuttered when speaking, and his smile widened, one of his hands going to rest in the pocket of his jeans while the other kept his leather jacket in place over his shoulder. 

Chris was the most, to say the least– and when he asked if he’d see you again tomorrow, you promised him he would. You watched him walk over to a beat up, old top down cadillac, throwing his jacket into the car before jumping in– literally jumping in, hand on top of the closed car door as he hopped over it into the driver's seat. 

He gave you another glance after starting the ignition, and you smiled meekly as you offered him another wave. Chris grinned, raising his hand to say goodbye before putting it back on the wheel and burning rubber out of the parking lot.

You spent nearly every summer day with him after that. Days at the beach spent splashing each other in the water while you giggled, hopping in his cadillac to go catch whatever new flick was showing, or sharing a milkshake at his favorite diner. He’d hold your hand as you walked through the sand, giggled with you over silly inside jokes while eating burgers and fries, hugged you tight after you gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek at the end of the night.

Chris gave you dimes to pick tunes on the jukebox, and would sing along to your selections with the prettiest voice you’d ever heard. He took you to the county fair, would shoot you goofy grins after kissing you with lips sticky from cotton candy, got on the ferris wheel with you and squeezed your hand when the height made you dizzy, kissing away your nerves when you reached the very top.

He won you a teddy bear from the soda toss, put his leather jacket over your shoulders when the sun set and the air began to chill, wrapped his arm around your shoulder while you were waiting in line to buy some popcorn. He’d lean down to whisper a joke in your ear, and you’d slap his arm with a giggle while he squeezed you closer.

You watched him soup up the engine of his car, and he’d take your hand after a long day of working on it, pull you in to dance with him while the radio blared the hippest tunes. When he was satisfied with the restoration of his cadillac, he started taking you out on long drives, wind whipping through your hair as he drove fast through the back streets of the city.

He’d drive you to secluded hills overlooking the city, where you’d make out until he had to drive you home in time for curfew. He’d park his car far down the street, away from where your family could see him dropping you off– because Lord knows your mother's heart would give out if she saw you spending your vacation with a guy that looked like him.

And through it all, days spent back at the beach where you first met him were always your favorite. You would let Chris lay you down on a towel in the sand and kiss you over and over, until you were both heaving and hot. You lost your virginity to him like that– alone on the beach, towels laid down and moon high in the sky after having snuck out of the window of your guest bedroom to meet him.

He’d whisper sweet words in your ear, make you fall apart with deft fingers and an equally deft tongue. Sometimes, instead of sneaking out to see him, he’d be the one showing up at your guest room's window, grinning at you as you opened it to let him in. He’d fuck you there, in the bed with his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of pleasure, lest your family discover what it is you’re really up to while "alone" in your room. 

Chris would crawl over to you in the passenger seat at the drive-in, sink to his knees and dip his head underneath your long poodle skirt, the flick on screen long forgotten as he pulled your panties to the side to kiss and lick your dripping pussy. Sometimes he’d fuck you there too, parked all the way in back with the windows and hood of the car up to hide what you were doing (as if the rocking didn’t give it away to anyone who happened to look.)

Sometimes, when he parked up the street to drop you off after sharing ice cream at the drive thru malt shop, you’d lean over the gear shift, taking his cock out of his jeans and sucking him off right there, with not nearly enough care for who could possibly see you. He’d give you the sweetest kiss before helping you out of the car, promising he’d see you tomorrow too, and the day after, and the day after that, until eventually your family’s summer vacation had to come to an end.

Chris was a dreamboat that day, as he always was– hair greased back with a few curly strands left over his forehead, loose black tee tucked into his jeans, leather jacket on with its collar ever so slightly popped, his dog tag necklace sparkling when the sun hit it just right. He was leaning against the door of his newly souped up cadillac with a lit cigarette resting between his lips, though he promptly threw it to the ground when he saw you walking over.

“There’s my girl! And ain’t she a doll,” he grinned as he pulled you to his body, kissing you sweetly as you blushed. You weren’t wearing anything he hadn’t seen you in before– just one of your usual white blouses and pretty pink skirts, but he always made sure to tell you that he thought you were the absolute most.

He walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door for you and closed it shut behind you when you got in. He hopped into the driver’s seat after, starting the ignition and turning to you with that beaming smile that made your stomach flip. “What’s the plan today, sugar?” he asked, throwing his arm around you while leaving one hand on the steering wheel.

In the end, you spent the day as you had many times before– driving through the city, hitting up the diner to split a strawberry milkshake, and watching the sunset at the beach; the same beach where you met him, and where the house you were staying in lied just a couple hundred yards away. You were sitting on the rocks, his leather jacket off and resting behind you, his arm curled around your waist. 

His jeans were filthy with sand, as was your skirt, but neither of you cared– you just stayed there together, watching the sun sink lower and the waves crash against the shore. Chris kissed you when you looked up at him with watery eyes, agonized over the idea of never seeing him again. He’d given you the best summer of your entire life, and all you wanted was to stay– but you couldn’t. And though he comforted you the best he could, you both knew it was the end.

Chris held your hand to help you off the rocks, gave you a kiss before you turned away to make the walk to your aunt’s beach house. And you both knew it was the end– but not just yet. He came to your window later that night, and you let him in, bringing your hands to his face and eagerly pressing your lips to his.

He walked you back to the bed as you kissed him, laid you back gently and crawled between your legs. He made you cum on his fingers before reaching into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom and tearing it open with his teeth. He rolled it easily down his cock, his jeans having fallen down his legs just enough to let him fuck you.

You reached your hands underneath his shirt, hungrily tracing your hands over every inch of his skin. Your nightgown was bunched above your thighs, legs spread wide to accommodate him. He eventually pulled the top of it down too, exposing your chest to him and leaving your stomach as the only covered part of your body.

Sweat dripped from his brow, his normally perfectly slicked hair tousled from your fingers sliding through it– and you didn't care that the pomade in his hair dirtied your fingers; in fact, it made it feel nicer when you brought your hand to one of your breasts, and rolled your nipples between them. Your stomach flipped when he grinned and called you a dirty girl, running a hand through his hair to grease up his fingers too and tweak the other nipple not being played with by your own.

He kissed you to muffle your moans and desperate whines, and it was nowhere near as effective as when it was his hand clamped over your mouth, but it was better. He had to slow down when fucking you fast unintentionally made your bedframe slam against the wall, and you gasped, praying no one woke up from the sound.

Thankfully, no one came knocking on your door– and though you were both desperate, clinging to one another hard and sliding your tongues around each other’s with fervor, he fucked you slow and deep after that. "Chris, daddy, please– 'm gonna cum," you moaned when he brought his slicked up fingers to your clit. 

Chris groaned before kissing you again, and you came with a muffled cry, your nails digging desperately into his biceps. He kept rolling his hips into you through it, your body trembling with sensitivity until he eventually came too, all his cum spilling into the condom. 

He stayed for a while after that, holding you close and wiping tears from your eyes with his thumbs. He snuck out in the middle of the night, promised you despite it all that it wasn’t the end– you’d see each other again someday, he just knew it; he wanted you to believe it too.

You got a couple of hours of sleep before morning, and gave your family the best smile you could manage as you tossed your luggage in the trunk of your dad's chevy bel air. You slouched in the back seat, trying not to cry and wishing more than anything you were in Chris’ old cadillac instead.

The Chris you reunited with wasn’t yours, and if it was, then fate was cruel for bringing you back to him.

The Chris you knew wouldn’t have looked at you like that– like you’re a desperate and fast girl, or an overly smitten near stranger hoping to get her kicks from him one last time while his friends snickered behind him. The Chris you knew wouldn’t join in on their snickering, tilting his head with an amused expression, tongue poking his cheek as he combs his fingers through his slicked back hair.

The Chris you reunited with wasn't yours, and the realization that you didn't really know him the way you thought you did utterly broke your heart.

You were back in the city– your parents, after having settled whatever marital disputes they were having, decided to settle down here. They loved their time together in the city when all their little tiffs were said and done, and they could tell you loved it here too.

They thought it’d benefit everyone to set up shop somewhere new, where everyone could reset. Plus, your mom wanted to be close to her sister again– and you certainly wouldn’t complain about spending more time at your aunt’s beach house.

You desperately wanted to see Chris again, and you knew it’d only be a matter of time before you did– unlike you, he grew up in the city, lived here his entire life. And while it’d been months since you parted at the end of summer considering your parents had to do a lot of work to shift the family business to a new location while also looking for a decent house up for sale, it would happen eventually– you were certain of it.

And soon enough you did see him, knew in an instant it was him even at a distance– because you’d recognize his restored cadillac anywhere. He was leaning against the car door like usual, cigarette in his mouth and leather jacket on his back, with a circle of friends around him. You never met his friends– he told you they were pigs, said that you wouldn’t like them much.

Besides, you were only going to be in town a few short months– why waste your precious few days hanging around with other people when you could be alone? That’s what he always told you– and as you tentatively began to walk up the street closer to them, you could tell they certainly did talk more vulgarly than you were used to hearing.

“C’mon man, you gotta let me borrow her,” one of his friends begged in reference to his car, “she’s a real pussy wagon. My chick’ll cream if I pick her up in it.” “Get your own wheels, bozo,” Chris shoved him with a laugh, “I ain’t lettin’ you take my girl on any joyrides.”

“What if you come too? Make it a double date, you know– and nobody’s got bigger tits than Annette. I got dibs, but she’ll be real nice eye candy for you,” his friend persuaded and Chris hummed, as if seriously considering it. Would he really go?

“Mm, maybe,” he grinned, tossing his cigarette to the ground and digging it into the gravel with his foot, “You do got a point. Tell her to bring a pretty friend, and I’ll think about it.” You blinked, stopped walking and simply stared at him. Had he moved on already? It’d only been a few months, but maybe you fell for him harder than he fell for you; the thought of it made your heart sink to your stomach.

His friend cheered and hugged him tight, and Chris pushed him away with another laugh, running a hand through his hair to fix it up as he characteristically did whenever it got even the slightest bit out of shape. In that same moment is when he glanced over in your direction, catching sight of you by pure coincidence.

His eyes widened when he saw you, mouth gaping open for a split second before he called your name in a mix of utter shock and joy. That was more like the Chris you knew– and it gave you hope. You ran up to him, and he to you, bringing his hands to your shoulders and touching you up and down your arms– truly, he couldn’t believe you were here, and he had to touch you to be certain it was real. 

“What– what are you doing here? I-I thought you went back home with your folks, I thought–” he was smiling, entirely giddy as he looked you up and down. “We moved! I’m here to stay,” you told him excitedly, bouncing on your heels as you stared up at him.

It made you so, so happy; to the point that the contents of his prior conversation entirely lifted from your mind. It pains you thinking back to how naive and lovesick for him you were– you wish you'd have known better. 

“I can’t believe it! I–” he started to exclaim, but then realized his friends followed him, crowding around his back while shooting him inquisitive looks, and he quickly took his hands off you.

He cleared his throat, tucked his hands in his pockets in a gesture meant to bring him back to his aloof state of being, and he grinned– not that pretty grin that made your heart flutter, but a wicked one. “I mean– that’s cool, baby.”

You didn’t like it, your brows furrowing at the change in his demeanor. “Christopher–” you started, but one of his friends spoke up before you could talk much more. “Who’s the chick?” he asked as he looked you up and down, and Chris hesitated. “Oh, uh–”

“Oh, I know!” the friend suddenly exclaimed, hit by an epiphany, “the one from the beach you wouldn’t let us meet– the one who puts out. This her? It is, isn’t it?”

Your face burned red, unpleasant heat crawling over your body as the rest of his friends snickered. He told them you put out? Why would he do that? Your expression crumbled, body trembling with embarrassment and grief, but Chris kept his own cool.

“Don’t worry, doll, I didn’t tell them all the horny details,” he smirked, and his friends' snickers erupted into full on laughs as they slapped his back in amusement. Your body burned hot with indignation, eyes welling with tears as your frustration and anguish boiled over. You shoved him as hard as you could, though it hardly even caused him to take a step back.

“I wish I’d never laid eyes on you, you– you creep!” you cried before turning away, ready to run back home to throw the teddy bear he won you in the trash and sob into your pillows. “That’s not all she laid on him,” one of his friends commented under his breath, the rest laughing and hooting as you sprinted away from them, back down the street.

Chris just watched, body tense and face sullen, heart twisting in his chest. He watched you turn the corner, wiping tears from your eyes before you disappeared entirely out of view, his friends still laughing and giving him pats on the back.

But when he turned to them, he put the smirk back on, and they all hopped into his car to hit the drive-in as if he didn't care about what just happened with you, as if the guilt wasn't going to eat away at him every night.

The next time Chris sees you is weeks later, at a new mom-and-pop shop freshly opened on the edge of the city. He’s there with his friends, all of them jumping out his cadillac before he’s even fully parked, rushing inside to grab a good table.

And when he walks in, it’s not his friends that he sees first but you– sitting at a booth with another guy across from you. There's an empty plate with tiny remnants of ketchup still left behind that he just knows you used for your french fries, and a milkshake between you with two straws stuck in it.

Part of him is relieved you aren’t sharing a single straw with the man like you would’ve done with him, but his gut still twists from the sight regardless. And when you giggle at something indiscernible the guy says, Chris feels liquid hot envy boil in his blood, jaw tightening and fists clenching as he cracks his neck. 

“Chris, over here!” his best pal, Felix, calls from across the shop, and that’s when you see him too. You can’t help but look when you hear his name called, eyes widening when they land on him. He tenses, eyes lingering on you for a few seconds longer before he inevitably joins his friends at the table they scouted out in the middle of the room.

He can't focus on anything his friends are saying– the only thing he vaguely hears through the fog in his brain is Changbin begging the others for spare nickels so he can afford the dog-sled delight. It all becomes tuned out noise, because all he can think about is how much he missed you, and how much it pisses him off that you're here with someone else.

It's Chris' own fault, he knows that, and that makes the feeling even worse– like bile in his throat that he can't swallow down. It doesn’t take Minho, the most perceptive of his friend group, to notice that he’s staring at you and to comment on it.

“What, you still hung up on that chick?” he questions, and Chris scoffs as he snaps out of his fog, leaning back in his chair and acting as aloof as he can bring himself to. “What? No, of course not,” he says, but his eyes still linger on you, fingers twitching with irritation when he hears you laugh again, and watches you playfully slap the man’s arm like you would do to his.

Eventually, you hold out your palm to your date, and he watches the guy dig through his pockets to give you something. Chris knows immediately what's happening– you’re waiting to be given a dime or two, and you’ll saunter off to the jukebox to pick a new tune once they’re in hand.

He watches you rise from the booth, waits until you’ve made the walk over to rise from his table, muttering to his friends that he needs to hit the can real quick. He takes a few steps in the direction of the bathroom, and then immediately turns, going straight to you instead.

He props an arm on the jukebox after he approaches, leans against it and looks down at you as you cycle through the record choices. “Hey baby,” he tries, but you ignore him, don’t even spare him a glance as you continue to give the jukebox your full attention.

“Listen– I’m sorry,” he tries again, and you just hum in acknowledgement, still not turning your gaze to look at him. He swallows, glances back at his friends who are perfectly oblivious to what he’s doing, and then back to you. “I just– you know how it is, right? The guys, they expect me to act a certain way, and–”

“That’s why I’m so glad I met Sam,” you interrupt, turning around to look at your date and offer him a sweet wave. Chris hates it, but at least you’re talking to him now– he’ll take what he can get. He still ends up scowling however when your date waves back, and you turn back to the jukebox, still without glancing up at Chris himself.

“What, you like that square?” he scoffs as he looks your date up and down. He’s smartly dressed; pristine khaki slacks and a brown sweater vest pulled over his white button up, his hair in a neatly styled, respectable crew cut– but that’s not your type.

At least, he hopes it's not; because that would make Chris the outlier, and that’s not what he wants to be. He’ll also be damned if he ends up losing you to a goody two shoes like that.

“He’s sweet to me. And I don’t have to question what his intentions are, unlike with you,” you reply, and the emphasis put on 'you' makes his heart sink. While he certainly deserves to hear it, it doesn’t make him any less upset– not with you, but with himself. He really let his pride and reputation get in the way, and he knows he fucked up. But he wants you, and surely you know that, right?

You finally settle on a tune; Those Magic Changes– the one he knows is your absolute favorite. The one he even used to serenade you with once whilst dancing, you giggling away with a cute blush on your cheeks whilst he twirled you around. He sang it more exaggeratedly towards the end, purposely putting on a goofy voice to make you laugh harder as he dipped you down.

He kissed you before lifting you back up, and then again when you were completely upright, your hand on his shoulder and his arm around your waist, your other free hands intertwined. The way you looked at him when he pulled back from the kiss made his heart pound, but he played it cool– shot you that grin that always made your legs feel like jelly, kissing your cheeks when it made your blush deepen.

Chris liked feeling the heat of your blush against his lips, liked having your hands on him even when it was in the purest of ways, liked the way you giggled and smiled at him when he playfully winked at you. The memory strikes him hard when you press the play button to start the song, and he takes a step back from the jukebox, fists clenched at his side.

You look at him then– really look at him. Instantly he feels small, your gaze that once held so much love for him now meeting him with the utmost scrutiny. He fucked up, he knows he did– but what does he do now? He can’t even trust himself to say something without fucking it up even worse. 

And the pain of it all hits you too– he can see it in your eyes just before you steel your expression, and do your best to act unaffected. "See you around, Christopher," you mutter as you turn away from him and the jukebox.

You walk back to the booth where Sam awaits your return with a smile, while Chris just stands there, your favorite song blaring painfully loud in his ears as he stares at your back. "..begs you please, come back to me, please return to me, don't go away again," the lyrics mock him harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, but he knows he has to do something, anything, to show you he’s sincerely sorry. He needs to show you he still wants you, needs you to give him another chance– more than he’s ever needed anything.

The next time Chris sees you is once again by coincidence, while he’s sitting alone in the parking lot of the sock hop his little sister just begged him to take her to. He was trying to decide what to do with his time– if he left, he’d have to come back in a couple hours to pick her up, but surely it was better than sitting around outside, bored out of his mind while he waited for her.

He could go in, but sock hops aren’t really his thing– the only time he ever danced was with you, and he didn’t plan on changing that. All he’d do inside is stand on the edge of the room and watch his sister dance, and he didn’t much feel like doing that either. Besides, his little sister was a good girl, and she didn’t need, nor want, his constant supervision.

And he’s just about to turn the key in his ignition and burn rubber when he sees you, arm linked with stupid fucking Sam as he opens the door for you with his free hand. And fuck, he doesn't even care that he's about to crash your date– he just needs to talk you. He jumps out of his car in a rush, pulling open the door to the building and heading straight to the line leading to the dance floor.

Chris’ jaw tenses when he sees you– Sam is leaning down to whisper something in your ear while you wait in the line, and you cover your mouth as you giggle. He hates how similar it is to the days he spent with you at the fair, waiting in line for rides and popcorn. The envy bubbling in his gut makes him feel sick, and he has to take a breath to calm himself down before he approaches you.

He steps to where you are in the line when he feels mellowed out enough, you and your date turning around curiously when they hear his voice call your name. Your eyes widen when you see it's him, but you’re quick to correct your expression before your date notices anything off about you. “Can I talk to you?” Chris asks, not at all acknowledging Sam’s presence beside you.

Even when you divert your gaze to glance at your date’s reaction, Chris’ eyes stay firmly on you, awaiting your answer. “Please?” he follows up, and it makes you swallow. It’s the first time he’s ever taken a pleading, desperate tone with you, and he can tell rejecting him isn’t going to come easily to you– it gives him hope that you'll finally hear him out, maybe even take him back.

“I–” you hesitate a moment, and just as Chris’ new, shiny hope begins to dim, you unlink your arm from your date. “I’ll be right back, just stay in the line,” you tell Sam before shooting Chris a look and walking past him. He follows you back outside, and you cross your arms as you stand against the cold brick of the exterior.

“What do you want?” you cut straight to the point. There’s a million things he wants to say, but his built up jealousy causes him to ask the stupid, burning question first and foremost. “Since when do you go to sock hops?” he questions, and it almost makes you laugh– he’s unbelievable, breaking your heart like that and then pulling stunts like this. 

“Since nice boys ask me to go with them. Why, you jealous?” you accuse him and he scoffs, trying once again to play off what he feels. “Me? Jealous? Don’t make me laugh,” he says, unable to help the instinctive reaction to being called out. And he instantly regrets it, but it’s too late to take it back.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I go back inside then?” you ask as you step away from the wall, starting to walk past Chris and back to the doors. He grabs your arm to stop you, and you look up at him expectantly. “Don’t, I–” he grits his teeth, hesitates for a moment, but ultimately decides to be honest, “I am, okay? So don’t.”

He lets your arm go, and his admission thankfully proves enough to make you stay. You settle back against the brick wall, but you don’t look at him after– instead you look down at the ground, staring at your sleek, black and white saddle shoes instead of meeting his gaze.

It’s silent for a moment, with Chris wracking his brain as he tries to figure out the right thing to say to you. “What you did was terrible, you know,” you end up breaking the silence first, your voice soft.

“I know, I– I meant it when I said I was sorry,” Chris says while moving a step closer to you, and still you hesitate to look at him. “I didn’t believe you. Still don’t,” you reply, and honestly, he can’t blame you– he should’ve been more sincere when he approached you.

But he was being a fucking idiot, still trying to play it cool even though it was just the two of you standing there by the jukebox. And who gave a fuck if his friends happened to look over and saw him talking to you? Why should he care? Is it really so wrong for him to be whipped for you?

Even the first time he saw you again, he should've done all the things he really wanted to do. He should've kissed you and hugged you tight, should've told you how happy he was to know you’re here to stay, should’ve flipped his friends the bird and told them to fuck off if they questioned him. But he didn’t– he cracked under the expectations, and you suffered for it.

There’s a lot he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to say it– he’s never been vulnerable about his feelings before you, but he wants to try. Even if he screws up over and over again, he’ll keep trying– because you deserve it. And he should apologize again, sincerely, but there’s another question burning in his blood that he has to ask.

“Do you really like that guy? You’re not, like– going steady, are you?” Chris questions and you shrug, finally looking up from the ground to meet his eyes. “That depends,” you tell him, peeling your back away from the wall to stand directly in front of him, holding your hands behind your back.

“On what?” he follows up, and you smile– a small one, but it’s enough for him. “On you,” you answer, and the hope flares back up, drowning out the envy and shame in veins and replacing it with pure, unfiltered glee.

“Yeah?” he grins as he tilts his head, and your smile grows the tiniest bit more as you nod. You may still have your doubts about his sincerity, but the fact that you’re willing to give him a chance is all he needs– he’ll use the time you give him to prove it to you, to make sure you’re left with no doubts that you’re the one that he wants, to promise that he'll never break your heart again.

“Come with me then, back inside– you’re gonna be my date,” he says as he holds out his hand to you. Sock hops may not have been his style before, but they can be for you. “What about Sam?” you question, but still take his hand regardless.

“He can stag it the rest of the night for all I care. You’re mine, sugar,” Chris replies, and it sends butterflies sweeping through your stomach as you giggle in delight. “And your friends?” you ask next, knowing it’s very well possible he’ll crack under the expectations of his rep with them again if they see you together.

“Fuck ‘em,” he replies easily; and you’re both sure it’ll be easier said than done for him to not give a shit what they think, but he’ll do his best. He doesn’t want to do anything to make you regret giving him another chance. “Let’s dance, baby,” he grins at you, pulling you along with him as he steps back inside the building with you in tow.

There’s a thought in Chris’ head that he never before thought he’d ever have– the sock hop was perfect. And well, maybe it’s not the sock hop itself necessarily that he enjoyed, but you– yes, it was most certainly you. The time spent with you was everything he’d been missing, everything he could’ve ever hoped for following your departure from the city and his subsequent abysmal fuck up. 

He knew he didn’t deserve any of it– and he was certain you were going to share a more serious talk about it all later, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt walking back into the building and seeing Sam utterly bewildered that his date was now clinging to his own arm instead.

And he won’t shirk his responsibility to do better by you– he’ll own up to his mistakes, he’ll change, be someone deserving of you. It may take a lot of time and effort to unlearn all the dumb shit he’s taken in over the years, but he swears he’ll try– tonight is just the start of a lifetime of proving to you that he’ll do anything to keep you.

All night, you’ve been positively radiant– and truly, Chris has never felt luckier in all his life. He delighted in the way you smiled at him while dancing, enjoyed the way you squealed in excitement and bounced on your heels when the live band decided to play a cover of your favorite tune, couldn’t help the way a goofy grin spread over his face when you pecked him on the cheek following a slow dance.

You’re the only one in the world who’s ever seen it, you know– the only one who gets to see his dimples, or to hear him giggle. The only one he’s ever sung to and danced with, the only one he’s ever wanted to stay up all night talking on the phone with, the only one he’s ever taken out for more than a quick and simple joyride in his car.

He could feel the inquisitive, disbelieving stares too– Chris has lived here his entire life, and everyone knows the kind of guy he is. And maybe he’s simply lucky– he knows he’s nothing but a delinquent, knows his reputation precedes him, knows he doesn’t deserve the affection of a good girl like you. 

Regardless of it all, you love him– enough to give him another chance even when he hasn’t yet done enough to earn it. And effortlessly, you unlock the soft part of him– the part of him that desires and yearns and wants. He burns for you, the only girl in the world his heart has ever raced for, the only who knew who he was beyond the rough surface he projected to the rest of the world.

Now you’re outside tentatively standing next to Chris’ car, waiting for him to come back from confirming with his sister that she’ll hitch a ride home from her friends instead of him. It embarrasses him how she grills him with questions about you– and he answers in the vaguest of terms, having to promise that he’ll fill her in on it all in more detail later, but to please just let him go be alone with his girl.

He’s certain that no one else would believe it if he told them, but his intentions to be alone with you are entirely pure. Now that he’s close to having you as his again, he wants to do right by you– take it slow, kiss you soft and tender, touch you light and chaste, respectfully, sweetly. He wants to take you on dates again, wants to save up all his quarters to buy you something special, wants to devote his every moment to showing you how sincerely he loves you.

He wants you to meet his friends properly (after he gives them a stern warning to be gentlemen in front of you), wants you to meet his parents, and he wants to meet yours in turn. He wants to stop playing it cool and aloof and confident when he feels something– doesn’t want to keep pretending that the way you look at him doesn’t drive him wild, not just with lust but with adoration.

And certainly, you know that Chris is softer than he outwardly appears– you’re not blind to the way his cheeks and ears burn when you kiss him sweet and call him that name that makes his heart skip a beat. And unlike you, Chris knew what he was doing– so it was natural for him to always be the one leading your little song and dance, even when on the inside he felt like he was going to positively combust from the way your eyes sparkled at him.

There’s something you’ve been wanting to try– something that you couldn’t before, because your summer together passed by in a blink, and there was so much you didn’t know when your relationship first began. And Chris has taught you a lot in your time together– maybe more than he even realizes.

He may not know it, but he’s made you into a real insatiable minx. And now that you know he’s willing to beg and plead and grovel for you to take him back, oh how it makes your heart race with the possibilities. How far can you take it? How far is he willing to go for you, to prove that he’s devoted to you entirely? Would he really do anything to keep you?

Chris told you, just a few moments ago as the sock hop was coming to an end, that he’ll do anything and everything to make sure you don’t regret giving him another chance with him. He looked you straight in the eyes, vulnerable and entirely sincere, squeezed your hands in his as countless promises left his lips. 

Could he be manipulating you? Is he nothing but a dirty liar? It’s certainly possible– but you’d like to believe the Chris you knew last summer is the truest version of himself. You’d like to believe that the Chris you saw tonight isn’t an act to keep stringing you along. So you want to try something– something bold, something the you of last summer would’ve never thought to do.

You don’t think your shyness will ever entirely evaporate given that Chris is such an utter dreamboat, but he does well enough at playing it cool, so who's to say you can’t do it too? You can be playful and enticing, can play it coy and innocent while you flutter your lashes at him, can smile and pout at him in a way that makes desire spread through his veins like explosive, hot fireworks.

When Chris walks back out of the building you have to make a conscious effort to ignore the butterflies in your stomach– you’ve decided you’re a woman on a mission tonight, after all. The parking lot is sparse now, and the last stragglers from the sock hop all shuffle to their cars, his sister and her group of friends being among them.

Though you only met her briefly, you offer her a pleasant wave goodbye, and she smiles at you as she returns it– though you don’t miss the way she shoots her older brother a look after. A look that says “don’t fuck this up for yourself.” It almost makes you giggle– you like having his sister on your side; you get the impression she’ll chew him out if he doesn’t shape up the way he’s promised to. 

Chris doesn’t turn to you until after his sister and her friends have peeled out of the parking lot– you’re not sure if it’s because he wanted to make sure she was going to be safe, or if it’s because he felt like she’d gotten enough of an eyeful of him being affection with you, and he’d be embarrassed if she saw anymore. You like either answer.

“Hi baby,” he says, soft and sweet as he smiles, and it makes your heart once again skip a beat. Even after hours of dancing, he still looks utterly perfect– not a single piece of his greased up hair out of place. You hope you’re faring the same– you didn’t really get a chance to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the night to know for certain, but you want Chris to think you look divine.

“Am I taking you straight home?” he asks; it’s dark out now, but you still have a fair amount of time before you’re expected back home. And while he’d love to spend more time with you, he isn’t going to assume– this is a trial period, after all; he still has to earn that, he’s sure.

Calling you his earlier was more hope on his end than confidence– he wants you to be his, but he knows he has to earn your trust back first. And he’s going to be a gentleman– any boundary you have, he’ll adhere to, no matter what. He refuses to fuck up with you again.

“No,” you answer short and simple, smiling up at him as you do. But before he can ask you what you want to do until curfew, you’re speaking again. “My shoe's untied,” you pout, leaning back against his car while gently lifting your foot from the ground to show him, “can you fix it for me, please?”

“You want me to tie it for you, baby?” he laughs a little as he tilts his head to the side, thinking you’re just oh so cute when you keep up the pout as you nod. He gets down on one knee easily, and you put your foot right on his knee, watching as he ties your laces back together. When he’s finished, you don’t put your foot back on the ground– you press it right to the middle of his chest.

“Baby?” Chris looks up at you curiously– and there’s a twinkle in your eye he’s never seen before. He almost thinks you’re going to kick him back on his behind, but you don’t– you take your skirt into your hands, and start to pull it up. Slowly, it rises above your calf, your knee, your thigh, until he can see your pretty white panties, with its precious little pink bow in the center.

“S-Sugar, what– what are you–” he stammers, struggling to form words in a way he never has before. You’ve never exposed yourself to him like this– just out in the open, with no barrier between you and the rest of the world. You aren’t in your bedroom, you aren’t inside the car with the windows and hood up– you’re out, in the middle of the fucking parking lot where anyone could see. 

Fuck, even the times at the beach, when he made love to you in the sand, were much, much more secluded than this– because those excursions were isolated, close to your aunt’s beach house and happening in the dead of night. And this is very much not– it’s barely even 9 o’clock, and you’re at a public venue; anyone could come by, and for any reason.

“I need your help with something else too, daddy,” you say as you pout some more, clearly acting coy, and he swallows as he stares up at you. “Can you do it, daddy? Can you help me?” You take as much of your skirt's fabric into one hand as you can, keeping it lifted above your thigh while you move your other hand between your legs, pulling your panties to the side to show him your pussy.

The action sends all of Chris’ blood careening to his cock– he can’t believe you’re really doing this right now. “Right– right here? N-Now?” he gulps, taking a quick glance around the parking lot. You’re alone now, but still– he never thought you’d do something so bold. Even just fooling around in the back seat of the cadillac with as much privacy as he could give you made you impossibly shy.

“Yes, here, now,” you tell him, keeping your panties hooked to the side with two fingers, while using the other two to spread your folds apart for him the best you can. You’re trying to entice him, and fuck, is it working. He never thought he’d see you this way, and it’s making him feel so utterly electric– he’s a fucking live wire, and he’ll pour his current straight into you.

Anything you want from him, it’s yours– he doesn’t need any convincing, he’s already impossibly ensnared by the rope that is your desire for him. And fuck, he said he wouldn't do this, said he'd be a gentleman, take things slow and build back up to intimacy with you– but if you're practically begging him for it, how can he resist?

Chris takes your foot into his hand, carefully lifts it from his chest and throws your leg over his shoulder before he crawls closer to you. The concrete of the parking lot ground is brutal against his knees, but he doesn’t give a shit– you need him, and that’s all that matters.

He replaces your hand, keeps your panties shoved aside with his own. Now that your hand is free you use it to hold onto the car door and give yourself some extra support as he starts placing kisses to your clit. His lips always feel so perfect– especially when he licks them first, gets them nice and wet for you; the sensation draws out a pleasant sigh, but you both know it isn’t really enough.

Chris likes to tease you, make you wait until you’re squirming and trembling from all his repeated kisses, gets you so worked up you could beg and cry before he finally gives you his tongue. But tonight is about getting what you want, when you want it– so as much as you enjoy his soft little kisses, you’re not going to let him work you up.

He’ll be the one fraying at the edges, the one desperate and pleading, the one who feels like his brain is filled with cotton, looking up at you from down on his knees with glassy eyes full of need. You let go of the car door, bring your hand to his head and thread your fingers through his hair. You pull back just enough to have his head tilting away from your pussy, making his eyes land straight up at you.

“Baby–” he gasps, and again you meet his gaze with that sinfully deceitful pout. “You said you’d do anything for me, daddy,” you say as you shoot him your best doe eyed look, “Did you mean it? Will you do anything for me?” Fuck, you’ve got him throbbing– you can see his erection straining against his jeans, and it nearly makes you grin in delight.

Still, you don’t crack– Chris always does well at only showing you the version of himself he wants you to see, and you will too. You won’t give him your meek looks or timid declarations of desire for more of his touch– he’ll only see a new you; a confident you who knows exactly what she wants. You’ve learned from the best, after all.

“Well?” you demand when he doesn’t immediately answer, and you watch him swallow, swearing you can see the shiver that spreads down his spine and throughout the rest of his body. “Y-Yeah baby, I meant it. I’d do anything for you,” he tells you, hoping you can’t see how red his face and ears are getting in the low light.

“Prove it– prove you want me, prove you’re good for something,” you say, and again he shivers, breath catching in his throat. “Eat it, make me cum.” Fuck, Chris is reeling– he still can’t even believe it’s really you talking to him this way. His brain feels like a faulty circuit board, all his synapses sparking dangerously as they fire off, ready to ignite his blood and engulf him in an uncontrollable flame of desire.

When you let go of his hair, he wastes no time diving right into your pussy, eating you out like a man starved. He brings his free hand to your ass, squeezes and holds you in place while he shakes his head to get more of you on his tongue, his nose bumping your clit and making your legs quiver.

You bite your lip, doing your best to suppress the loud moan he brings out of you by sucking on your clit. His plush lips wrapped around it, the flicks of his tongue, how expertly he sucks– it’s already so overwhelming, in the best way possible. Chris does his best to sink lower, tries to lick at your hole and get his tongue inside, but it’s hard like this– he’s not sure if he can.

“B-Baby, doll, let me lay you down, in the car, let me–” he pulls away from your dripping center to look up at you, and fuck, he looks ruined in the prettiest way imaginable. His eyes are hazy and pleading, glistening with your arousal from the tip of his nose all the way down to his chin, sweat dripping down his brow. “Need to spread you out, I– please? Gotta taste more of you.” 

Shit, you can’t deny you want it– especially not when he’s begging like this. You nod, and he smiles at you in appreciation, a smile that makes your knees even weaker than they already are. You take your leg off his shoulder, and he quickly rises to his feet, giving you a messy kiss before he ushers you away from the car door to open it for you.

You crawl into the back seat, and he follows, slamming the door shut behind him. He waits until you get comfortable, not acting until you're lying propped against the opposite door of the car. Chris hooks your panties in his fingers, pulls them down your legs and tosses them aside into the footwell; it'll be a sweet treat for him when he finds them again later.

He'll keep them, he thinks– stuff ‘em in his pocket and take them back to his room, where they'll lie safe and protected under his pillow. It's a dirty thought, one that'd otherwise fill his gut with shame, but right now all he feels is need– need for you to cum on his tongue, need to give you everything you want and more.

He settles on his stomach between your legs, and it’s certainly not easy, but he manages well enough. One of your legs ends up over his shoulder again while the other stays spread out with the help of his hand holding you under the knee. And finally, his tongue dips into your hole, and it’s pure bliss– maybe even more so for him than you. He’s hungry, utterly ravenous; all he can think, breath, and taste is you, you, you.

“Chris– your fingers, need your fingers,” you whine more shamelessly than you would've otherwise liked, but you know he enjoys it. He separates from you long enough to run his fingers between your folds, making sure they’re nice and slick for you before he presses them to your hole. 

He slides one finger in first, bringing his mouth back to your clit while you adjust to the feeling. Your legs are already trembling by the time he adds another finger, and when he starts curling his fingers to hit your most sensitive spot while flicking his tongue against your clit you can hardly even breathe– it’s just so, so good.

Your stomach is clenching, thighs and legs shaking hard, your release building up with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “Oh, fuck, Chris–” you cry when he presses the tips of his fingers into your spot harder. You’re certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re still wearing your shoes, your toes would be curling from the pleasure.

Your pussy sounds so sloppy and messy, and Chris himself isn’t making it any better– he’s drooling so much, his saliva drenching you just as much as your own dripping arousal. You’re breathing hard, and even your hands are shaking as they continue to hold up your skirt to watch him devour you.

“Oh my god, ‘m gonna cum, I’m gonna– fuck, gonna cum for you daddy, please don’t stop,” you’re crying loud– and you know you should at least try to be quieter considering how out in the open you are, but you’re too far gone to care. With your head thrown back, you whimper and moan, high pitched and loud, eyes rolling back as your orgasm takes you.

It feels like it’s endless, the waves of pleasure ceaselessly jolting your body as your vision blurs white; and you feel wet; so, so wet. It’s only when you finally come down from the high and lift your head back up from where it thunked against the car door to look at Chris that you realize why you feel so drenched.

It’s not just your thighs that are dampened– it’s your skirt, Chris’ face and shirt, the leather of his seats; all of it is soaked with your cum. Your face starts to burn hot, and you swallow as Chris stares at you, almost bewildered. “Baby– did you just..?” You squirted for him, because of him– he doesn’t even fucking care how much of a nightmare it’s going to be to clean his car, all he can think about is how fucking sexy it is.

You simply nod, because it’s all you can think to do– you really weren’t expecting this to happen. “Oh my god, baby, you have to do it again, please, you have to,” he practically whines, and his enthusiasm over it makes you giggle. You honestly feel more than a little shy about it, but Chris’s apparent elation makes it worth the tinge of embarrassment.

You reach out for him, take the necklace dangling from his neck into your hands and pull, urging him to come closer to you. He crawls up your body, and you kiss him, sliping your tongue into his mouth and tasting yourself all over him. “Fuck, you’re so dirty baby,” he groans when you pull away, “what are we going to do, huh?”

It makes you giggle again, a soft thing full of mischievous delight. He basks in it, giggles with you before he kisses you again. “Need your cock now,” you tell him when he pulls away, and shit, he’d nearly forgotten how fucking hard he is whilst wrapped up in pleasuring you. He can feel it straining against his jeans, desperate for stimulation of its own.

“Yeah? Want my cock baby?” he asks, grinning at you the way he always had before; you tug on his silver chain again in response. “Don’t forget, you’re giving me everything I want. Everything, okay?” you say once his face is mere inches from yours again, making him look you closely in the eyes. Chris swallows as he nods, the smile you offer him once again making his brain feel fuzzy and floaty.

He looks you over once more, really takes it all in before he scrambles over the front seat, reaching for the glove box where he still has some spares from your time together over the summer. Condom in hand, he settles back over you, and you help him with his jeans while he tears the package open. He spreads it quickly down his length, and you take your legs in hand, holding them under your knees to keep yourself open for him. 

The sight of you like that is dizzying– legs open, skirt bunched up all the way to your stomach, pussy wet and glistening, with the hair there matting from how wet you are; you’re perfect. So fucking perfect. He moans as he pushes into you, so slick that you take him with ease. You take his face in one of your hands and pull him down to kiss you, a desperate one that makes pleasure lick over every inch of his skin.

Chris rolls his hips into you slowly to start, while you let go of the leg you're still holding to wrap your limbs around him, keeping him pressed close. He grabs onto the car door, uses it to keep himself steady when he starts to pick up the pace of his hips, harsh breaths and low moans leaving him freely. Neither of you are trying to be quiet, the street lights are burning bright, the hood of his car and the windows are down, anyone could hear you or see you– and the excitement of it all makes the pleasure he feels all the more intense.

“Baby, your tits– let me see ‘em, please, can I see ‘em?” he asks between labored breaths– he needs to see them, has missed them more than is probably allowed. You quickly do as he asks, fumbling with the top few buttons of your blouse to expose yourself to him. You tug down your bra so he can see your breasts bare, and again he groans, bringing his free hand to one of them to brush his thumb over your hardened nipple.

“Oh, you’re so pretty– so, so pretty baby,” he says, groaning when the words make you clench harder around him. It doesn’t take long for the car to start rocking with the motion of his thrusts, his rhythm quickly growing sloppier. He’s been so worked up, and believe it or not, he hasn’t actually fucked anyone since you– he feels so high strung and on edge, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out.

He just hopes he can make you cum again before he does, or at least make you cum with him– he needs you to be happy with him. You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, you can tell that he’s already impossibly close– so, like the little minx you are, you talk dirty to him, wanting to see him utterly unravel at the seams. “You gonna fill me up, daddy? Make this pussy all yours?”

Chris gasps and shudders, goosebumps erupting all over his impossibly hot skin. He knows he can’t actually– all he’s going to really fill up with his cum is the condom, but fuck, the thought of it is making his head swim. “Y-Yeah, gonna fill you up baby, daddy’s gonna make you so full,” he breathes, and God, that really does it for you.

You bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick, practiced circles. Even through the condom he can feel you gushing and soaking his cock, and it sends him over the edge– as do the sounds of your incredibly pretty whimpers and moans of pleasure. His hips still when he cums, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes roll back, head thrown back in utmost bliss.

It takes Chris a few moments to recollect himself and catch his breath, and he slowly slips out of you when does. He tucks his softening length back in his jeans before he helps you fix your bra, and smoothes your skirt out over your legs while you button your blouse back up. “You feeling okay, baby?” he asks, wiping messy strands of hair out of your face.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, faces flushed and hot, hair utterly a mess– it’s obvious, even with your clothes fixed up, what you’ve been doing. “Mhm, are you?” you ask, and he smiles, giving you a quick peck on the lips. “I’m peachy keen, jelly bean,” he replies and you giggle, kissing him once more.

He looks at himself in his rearview mirror when he pulls away, does his best to fix his messy hair while you lift yourself up from your propped position and stretch out your aching limbs. He then takes another glance around the parking lot, and notes that you’re still the only ones here– thank God. He was too enraptured by you to check earlier, and he’s grateful that no one else has showed up.

“Should probably get you home now, yeah?” Chris asks, looking at the clock on his dashboard and noticing it’s now getting dangerously close to your 10 o’clock curfew. He helps you get into the passenger seat when you nod, and you smile at him when he settles in beside you. He turns the key in the ignition, one hand resting on your thigh while the other stays on the wheel, and he drives you home.

Chris parks up the street, like he did all those times at your aunt’s beach house. He watches you walk over to your house, and he smiles when you turn around to blow him a kiss. At 11 he leaves his car, walks up the street to your home, and approaches the only window with a light still on– the window to your new bedroom. And you smile as you open it for him, letting him crawl his way inside.

He sees the teddy bear he won you at the fair sitting right in the middle of your bed, nestled against your pillows, and he smiles, delighted that you still kept it even after he broke your heart. “I love you, baby,” he tells you in a whisper after a sweet kiss, “never gonna hurt you again, I promise.”

“You better keep that promise, mister. Or I might just have to make you jealous again,” you warn and tease him with a cheeky little smile. He strips out of his jeans and tee shirt as you turn off your lamp, lies down beside you after you settle into your bed, runs his hand up and down your back as you press yourself against him. Head on his chest, with your arm and leg tossed over him, he kisses your head and smiles once more– because as he promised, this is just the start of a lifetime.

network tags: @ksmutsociety @skzstarnet

[forlix]

· . ˚ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

— the moments in which the members of stray kids realize how they truly feel about you.

words・1.4k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / warnings・depictions of conflict and anxiety in hyunjin's and han's / genres・domestic fluff, smidges of hurt/comfort, established relationships

a/n・thought i'd try out a new fic format :-) i had so much fun writing these and hope you like reading them just as much. any and all feedback is appreciated, as always!

chan is in a heated staring contest with his notepad when the door opens, and he knows that it’s you who comes in, but his head is miles away, tangled in an amalgamation of syllables and rhythms. he goes on to forget that you’re here for a short while, poring over the unfinished lyrics in front of him with undivided focus. that is, until he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

you’ve just pulled a chair up next to his desk. “lemme see,” you say, gesturing to the notepad. there’s a surprised pause, and then chan places it in your hand, scoots closer to you.

you spend the next two hours talking him through his block, but there are periods when you fall silent to brainstorm or to write something down, and chan takes those quiet opportunities just to look at you: wearing one of his old t-shirts, your hair still damp from your shower, completely concentrated. and he knows, then, that he wants to marry you.

minho doesn’t realize he loves you in a singular moment. rather, he has a faint inkling for some time, and then the rug is randomly pulled from beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he can’t remember a version of his world that didn't have you at its center.

there are times when he’s especially aware of his feelings, though. like when he throws a witty remark in your direction and your retort comes back twice as sharp. when your eyes and smile light up like lanterns as you talk to him about your passions. when one (or all) of his cats hover at your side as you go about your day. when he returns home after a grueling practice and you’re there to offer him your comfort, no matter his withdrawn demeanor or sweaty skin.

he is a quiet lover, and sometimes he worries that he’s too quiet, that you have no idea what’s going on inside him every time he looks at you. but words have never really been necessary with minho. you know. you just do.

changbin is greeted by a chilly breeze when he emerges from the gym, and he silently chastizes himself for forgetting to bring an outer layer yet again. but the temperature moves to the back of his mind when he spots you, waiting on the sidewalk, as you said you would. a familiar grin breaks across your face when you see him, and he feels its shape against his lips when he runs over and kisses you, in lieu of hello.

“what are you feeling for dinner?” you ask once he’s pulled away, and he realizes that you’ve pressed something to his chest: one of the hoodies that he keeps at your place, still soft and warm from just coming out of the dryer. and boom—the epiphany hits him, instantly and unequivocally.

he is dumbfounded for a moment, just processing the newfound discovery; and then, out of nowhere, the two of you say the name of the same restaurant at the same time. he swears he never believed in soulmates until he met you.

hyunjin has always held so many emotions in his heart so fervently, to the point that they sometimes overflow in the form of words that he doesn’t believe, in a tone that he doesn’t intend. and it happened again today, when he spoke to you the wrong way in a moment of pure impulse, and the surprise on your face morphed into poorly-disguised hurt.

a few hours later, the weight of his actions sits heavily on his shoulders. when he lifts his phone to call you, his hands are shaking a little, and a breathy apology spills from his lips the moment he hears you on the other end: “i’m sorry, angel. i’m trying, i promise. i really am.” to which you answer, “i know, hyune. i forgive you. we’ll keep trying together, okay?” and your words pull his heartstrings in a new direction entirely.

he asks if he can come over, you say yes, and he tells you he loves you as soon as you open the door. he’s done hiding his heart from you.

jisung’s contagious grin and raucous cackle come easily to him for the most part, but there are times when he forgets how it feels to laugh or to breathe, times when he wants only to hide from the world and all of its scariest parts. and when you see his figure in the doorway tonight, his face cast in a nameless shadow, his shoulders sunken in quiet defeat, you understand immediately that this is one of those times.

“do you wanna talk about it?” you ask as he approaches you. silently, he shakes his head: not tonight. but his body language asks for what he cannot verbalize. you extend your arms toward him, and he buries himself in them the second he’s close enough to, his face nestling the crook of your neck, the tension in his limbs melting at your gentle touch. you stay there for a long time, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades, coaxing him back to the ground, back to you.

wherever he chooses to hide, he thinks he’d like to take you with him.

when felix opens his eyes, the space in the bed next to him is empty, and the faint scent of flour and sugar wafts through the gap beneath his door.

he gets to his feet, throws on some clothes, and wanders in the direction of the smell, rubbing the sleep from his eyes—and the sight that awaits him makes him wonder if he’s still dreaming. you’re standing at the stove, still in your pajamas, hair slightly disheveled from your rest, and there are pancakes in the frying pan before you; sliced strawberries on the cutting board next to the stove. and the look of sheer focus on your face, as if staring at the pancakes will cook them faster, absolutely destroys him. (and he knows in that moment that he wants to wake up to you for the rest of his life.)

with an enamored smile, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulls your back to his chest, and presses a light kiss to the nape of your neck. “morning, beautiful,” he mumbles sweetly. “how fucking lucky am i?”

being around you makes seungmin feel like a kid with a crush. he smiles brighter and laughs louder. he opens like a lotus in bloom when you say his name. the floaty sensation he gets when you kiss his cheek or hold his hand persists for hours afterward—and none of it makes any fucking sense to him. it’s not that he doesn’t believe in love, but he’s never believed that love could feel like this, straight out of a sonnet.

now, your head is on his shoulder, your body rising and falling in your slumber. seungmin looks at your interlocked hands where they rest on his knee, and at the current track displayed on his lockscreen: “still” by day6, a song about losing and loving, about regret and reminiscence. those bright days between us are over, the lyrics go, and he makes a silent promise to your sleeping form that the bright days between the two of you will never end.

the word "love" still doesn't cross his mind, but it is etched all over his face, and carved into his soul.

you and jeongin are telling each other about your days over dinner when your phone lights up with an incoming call, and he nearly spits out his mouthful when he sees who it’s from. for a few seconds, the two of you just stare at each other in flabbergasted silence. but then, you raise your phone to your ear: “hi, grandma! to what do i owe this pleasure?”

and the voice of his grandmother comes back through the receiver. she tells you that she’s just gone on an evening walk and found herself thinking of you, so she wanted to see how you’re doing; if you’re taking care of yourself. you rush to thank her, looking entirely flustered, and a bit like you’re about to burst into tears.

with that, the two of you launch into chatter about everything under the sun: grocery store discounts, the recent humidity, jeongin’s bad habits, you name it. and it finally dawns on jeongin how inextricably embedded in his life you have become—and that he doesn’t want it any other way.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[astraystayyh]

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess : i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter i. to forget

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a car accident. mention of blood and physical wounds. depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. reader has she/her pronouns.

word count : 14.8k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me.

a.n: she's here, she's yours, i hope you'll enjoy reading one of the most challenging things I've ever wrote :') your feedback is highly appreciated <3

special thanks to @forlix for going through this journey with me, i love you thank you, seriously, you mean the world to me. and to @dorisnumber1fan for listening to my initial rants about this fic, and all the ones i ever write. i love you and appreciate you so much, more than i could explain <3

quotes series masterlist. next chapter.

Day 1.

You're floating in a dark void, save for the specks of light swirling around you. A peculiar serenity fills your being, a tranquility unlike any you’ve ever known. It’s as though your body isn’t your own; but rather an otherworldly vessel, calmly traversing the cosmos, dancing in constellations with the stars that encircle you.

A sudden electrifying warmth surges from your hand, traveling down the contours of your knuckles, melting into the lines of your palm. It pulsates within your being as if you’re holding the Earth's very core between your fingers. You stir from your ethereal orbit, longing to break apart from the celestial lights, to reunite with your body once again.

The warmth intensifies, causing your fingers to involuntarily clench. A deluge of radiance enfolds you, drawing you into a luminous hole. You squint your eyes, drinking in the light- your first breath.

Your eyes flutter open in a daze, your throat parched, rasping like sandpaper against your vocal cords. White encompasses you yet again, from the high ceilings to the pristine bed you’re lying on. It takes you a few blinks to grasp your new environment- an unfamiliar hospital room. You wearily close your eyes, hoping for the stillness to return, aching for the peace you felt within your bones mere moments ago.

But to no avail; only the tingling sensation remains.

You tilt your head, eyebrows shooting upwards as you notice a hand clasping yours. A figure lies their forehead beside your body, black disheveled locks tickling your palm.

The warmth, you understand where it comes from now.

You attempt to slip your hand out of theirs, prompting the man to awaken with a jolt, surprise dancing across his features as his gaze meets yours. Dark circles adorn his face- testimonies to days of fatigue imprinted upon every feature of his. Yet, all of it dissipates as he gazes at you, lips slightly parted, bunny teeth peeking out. His face transforms into a radiant smile, stirring a mysterious longing within your soul- it brushes against your fingertips before slipping beyond your reach. 

"You're awake," he whispers in awe, and your tiredness renders you mute. You point to your throat, hoping that he'll understand what you need. "Water? Is- Is that what you want?" he asks, a touch too eager, fingers running through his hair in sheer disbelief. You nod and he rises swiftly, pouring you a glass of water and bringing it to your lips.

You sip diligently as his hand caresses the crown of your hair, the warmth now traveling to the top of your head. You feel lightheaded as if the blood in your veins has thickened, the very life in you slowed to a faint whisper. Yet, a timid relief emerges as your thirst is finally quenched.

"I'll- I'll go call the doctor," he tells you, his beaming smile unwavering. It’s too bright, everything around you is, and you feel a throbbing headache growing at your temple’s base.

It's a mere minute before the man returns, a doctor and two nurses on his trail. You float within a haze as the nurse shines a beam of light in your eyes. The response of your pupils seems to please her.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor inquires and you frown. You've been racking your brain for an explanation as to why you're here, but to no avail. You shake your head.

"What's your name," he proceeds, lips growing into a thin line.

"Y/n, Y/l/n," you respond, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, as though it hasn’t left the confines of your throat for ages. You miss the darkness; you want to sleep again.

"What date are we?"

Your eyebrows knit together as you try to think of an answer. "The 20th or maybe the 21st September."

"What year?"

"2022."

An eerie silence falls upon the room, a stillness resembling the one of your dreams; but it isn’t comforting, on the contrary, it fills your being with an unsettling dread, one that trickles inside you with each second spent in silence. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. You close your eyes to avoid the sorry ones of the nurse.

"We need to run you an MRI scan," the doctor finally speaks up, tone somber. "It appears you're suffering from retrograde amnesia. But we have to make sure."

It takes time for the words to permeate your consciousness, for the syllables to settle in and start to make sense. Amnesia.

What have you forgotten?

“What…” you chuckle warily, fingers reaching up to soothe your throbbing forehead. “What year is it?”

"It's the 24th of September 2023. You were in a severe car accident two days ago, a drunk truck driver rammed into your car on your way home. You have a fractured rib and extensive leg injury, but no broken bones thankfully. We'll get you to the scan shortly, okay?" he speaks easily as if announcing that you've missed the rain while asleep. As if it’s not a year’s worth of memories you’ve seemingly forgotten, erased in the span of a blink, akin to footprints on sand washed away by the waves. Nothing of importance.

"So, you don't... remember me?" a soft voice quivers, barely above a whisper, and your eyes meet those of the man who’s been at your side, temporarily forgotten in the conversation.

His question is laced with a grave fear, evident in his dilated pupils and trembling hands. A lump blooms in your throat, its thorns pricking at your voice. You aren’t sure you want to answer that question.

"I- I don't."

"Oh."

You’ve never known that a human could crumble in silence, in an imperceptible gasp, so small you almost did not hear it. A crestfallen expression materializes on his face in the span of a heartbeat, features coming together in the rawest expression of anguish you’ve ever seen. You bite your lip.

"Who- Who are you?" you implore, urgency inflecting your tone, hoping that he's no one of importance. Someone who helped you when you got into a car accident. Someone minor who you wouldn't fault your brain for forgetting.

"I was... I-I am your boyfriend. Minho," he utters his name like a broken plea, eyes slightly widening to gauge your reaction. As though those two syllables hold within them a myriad of memories, ones you simply cannot forget.

You don't remember.

The doctor was right in his diagnosis. The scan showed unusual activity within your brain, characteristic of post-traumatic amnesia. You listened numbly as he cited the precautions you should take to heal your physical wounds- to rest, not carry anything heavy, ice your lungs, and go on walks. But you did not care for the state of your body, you’ve bruised it before and it has healed in its own time. It will do it again; it is a familiar path you’ve already undergone. But what about your memory? Your mind that robbed you of a year of your life? How do you get it back?

“There is no guarantee you’d remember. There is also no treatment for amnesia. We advise that you focus on healing first. Do not strain your mind,” your doctor smiled, before leaving the room. His silver wedding band shined mockingly underneath your eye. He doesn’t know what it’s like to forget the lover awaiting you at home.

Minho dutifully sat by your side, nodding along to the doctor’s words. He signed your discharge papers and settled your bills before you could protest, and he was now pushing your wheelchair through the hospital's corridors. You didn’t know what to say to him- how do you talk to a stranger who uttered your name with love dripping between its letters?  

In the hospital’s parking lot, Minho pauses, squatting before you. His eyes are puffy, red veins contrasting against the pristine whites, betraying the tears he must have shed when he excused himself to the toilet.

You suddenly want to beg for a reprieve; it is too much pain for one day, too much for one soul to bear. But it is only six p.m. and Minho's gaze holds you captive, a new emotion dancing in his brown irises- grief. He's looking at you as though you're a phantom, gone when you are still very much breathing.

“We've been together for eleven months, and we moved in together two months ago,” he licks his lips nervously. “You have a two-month medical leave, and I- I don’t want to leave you alone, while you recover. So, you can think of us as… as roommates.” The word felt heavy on his tongue, a fresh wave of tears brimming in his waterline. He swiftly blinks them away.

Your parents are in a faraway city, so is your best friend. You were the one who decided to move somewhere so far, to flee from the skeletons threatening to spill out of your closet. You don't want to burden anyone. You just want to rest.

You nod in agreement and Minho attempts to smile. It is a useless effort; one he quickly gives up. There was nothing to be joyous about.

Minho takes your hand, gently helping you to your feet. He opens the door to his car, and you settle into the passenger seat. It smells pleasant, an apple-scented diffuser dangling from the rearview mirror. Yet, as Minho closes the door, the scent suddenly suffocates you. Your lungs ignite, consuming your oxygen to douse their rising flames. You can no longer breathe inside, panic rippling in your heart violently, pushing at your ribs, begging for an escape. You open the door, collapsing to your knees as a violent coughing fit overtakes you. You blindly clutch at Minho’s arm and he tumbles to the ground with you. 

The ugly sob that had been trapped within your throat finally escapes, and passersby pay you no mind. It must be usual to hear gut-wrenching cries in a hospital parking lot. But Minho seems to care, as his hands soothingly rub your back, undergoing a steadfast path from the nape of your neck down the base of your spine. He’s not panicking and his touch appears to instinctively know how to speak to your sadness, how to soothe your sorrow with unheard words.

You imagine it's not his first time comforting you, and the thought only forces another sob from the depths of your soul, as Minho pulls you up once again. He sits your shaky figure on the wheelchair, closing the car doors.

“We can walk,” he tells you gently, and despite the quietness of his voice, it manages to break through your raging storm. A singular sun ray parting the gloomy clouds.

“It’s okay, I’ll... I’ll suck it up”

"You've been through a terrible car accident, and I won't let you sit here and panic, especially when your wounds are still fresh and your mind is trying to protect you."

His tone is resolute, eyes blazing with determination as he looks at you. You can only nod in response. So, Minho pushes your wheelchair to his house. He doesn’t huff, nor complain about the autumn sun scorching his skin, the effort to push you for the entirety of the road, and then inside his building. He only smiles when his eyes meet yours in the elevator mirror.

He’s tentative as he opens the door to his apartment, hand tightly gripping the keys before turning them, as if preparing himself for a bigger heartbreak, one that lies within what was once his sanctuary- yours too, you suppose.

Minho pushes you inside, pausing near the entrance as your eyes drink in the interior. He seems to await something, perhaps for you to remember the place you’ve called home for the past months. A few seconds pass, and he clears his throat, holding your arm to guide you forward. He avoids your gaze as you both venture in.

“This is the kitchen,” he points to a small kitchenette, where a flower bouquet seems to have wilted, much like the man near you- his emotions now diluted, eyes dimmed as they glaze over the walls. You spot your favorite mug on the racks, one that resembles a fairy mushroom. The sight of it makes your heart clench in your chest. So, this is your home, after all.

You leave the kitchen and walk down a narrow hallway when you stumble on your feet. “Easy, honey,” Minho cautions, and your hold on his forearm falters. He blinks at you before gazing up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” you reply in a small voice.

Minho leads you to the living room, cream-colored sofas with a navy blanket on top, multiple fuzzy pillows scattered all around. A tulip field painting graces the accent blue wall- your favorite flower, two matching slippers rest by the couch, racks of your novels adjacent to his collection of cookbooks, you assume. 

It is all the more evident to you that you’ve both lived here, lives intertwining so seamlessly into one another. The place radiates comfort and warmth, but it refuses to penetrate your being, as if you’re harboring a shield of oblivion, ricocheting off any touch of remembrance. You’re an intruder, standing in stark contrast to the inviting coziness that envelops you.

“I like that wall,” you say in an attempt to lighten the stuffy atmosphere.

“We painted it together,” Minho smiles sadly, and your remorse seems to liquify, blending in with the blood running through your veins.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot three furry masses bolting towards you, small paws clawing at your feet. You feel another dent add to your heart, so much you are sure it would blow away at the tiniest gust of wind. Just how much have you forgotten?

“We… We had cats?” you ask breathlessly, eyes widening as you take in the two orange felines, and the gray, much smaller one.

“These are mine, but you also adopted them, in a way,” he explains, crouching down to pet his cats, scratching the sensitive spot behind their ears. He is tender with them and they appear at ease in his presence. You realize you’ve felt the same since you’ve woken up.

“Hey, my babies,” he coos softly. “Mom- I mean y/n- is tired so let’s give her some space, okay?” he quickly corrects, before gently pushing the cats away from your feet.

Minho shows you the bathroom before leading you to the bedroom- it's a bit untidy, worn clothes thrown on the ground, some of your accessories tossed on top of the vanity. As if the room was also frozen in time, awaiting your return to resume its familiar course.

“You'll sleep here and I'll just take the couch,” Minho interrupts your thoughts as he gently sits you atop the bed.

"But-"

"I’ll make you dinner so you can take your medication, okay?” he ignores your objections, adjusting two pillows behind your back to help you sit up straight, just like the doctor cautioned. His necklace, adorned with your initial, brushes against your cheek. “Try to sleep meanwhile. You need to rest.”

“Minho this is too much-"

“It’s not. If you need anything just call me over, I’ll leave the door open,” he says, tucking you in beneath the blanket. 

“I don’t want to burden you,” you finally admit, voice slightly raised so he’d finally listen.

“Y/n, I love you.” He speaks so suddenly, fists balled on either side of your body. “And this is what I do for the person I love. I… I don’t know how to not care for you, don’t take that away from me, please. Please,” he repeats, voice faltering under the weight of his plea. 

"Okay," you concede. 

You can't quite remember that first night, the morphine injected into your veins made you ebb and flow out of consciousness, only recollecting small fragments of the hours flowing by.

But you remember the dull pain settling into your bones, one you knew would accompany you for the following weeks. You remember the thoughts swirling in your mind like a tempest- your near brush with death, how she almost trapped you into her icy hold; the year of memories gone with the wind, as if they were never yours to begin with; and the stranger whose home you are in now, the very one who took care of you throughout the night.

And you can't perfectly recall it, but you swear Minho stayed by your side until the early hours of the morning, warm hand pressed to your forehead to check your temperature, cold tears falling on your arm as he laid his head next to your sleeping body.

Day 2.

You miss being asleep the second you wake up in.

Every fiber of your being aches, as though pain has latched itself into every muscle, its grip unrelenting now that the morphine's comforting veil has lifted. You drag a hand tiredly across your face, tears of frustration welling like dewdrops in your eyes. It's only 10 a.m. Far too early for one's spirit to crumble.

A bright post-it note on the bedside table catches your weary gaze. "I went to drop your medical leave at your work. I've made you breakfast it's in the kitchen. Don't forget to drink your medicine, I'll be home soon"

What home was Minho referring to, exactly? Because this one wasn’t yours, and neither was the one back in your hometown. Were you destined to be a passerby in temporary places, always lingering near the door, ready to put your shoes back on and leave at any moment?

10:03. Still too early.

You find solace in having two months off of your work. You couldn’t bear being somewhere where everybody knew you for months, while your memories of them span but mere weeks. The expectations they would have, the pressure to conform, to mirror the footsteps of your past self was an unbearable burden. What if she was better than you? Made better choices, spoke more eloquently? What if you couldn't live up to the image they had conjured? What if you couldn't face the repercussions of your past actions?

10:07. You need to shower.

You slowly ease yourself off the bed, careful not to put pressure on your injured leg, avoiding even the slightest exhalation. You pretend as if nothing’s happening as you pick up a pair of pajamas that you recognize from the closet – a familiar relic from the life you’ve always known.

It's a charade, you’re aware of it. You're but treading on fragile ice, your pain threatening to shatter the frozen façade beneath your feet, plunging you into the frigid truth at any given moment.

You walk into the shower, attempting to rinse the day's tiredness away. But moving your limbs is a strenuous task, and you can't reach over your head to wash your hair. You let out a dry chuckle as the water runs over your back, splattering across the white tiles.

Your heart swells in your chest, an uncomfortable weight pressing against your fractured ribs. Still, it beats, and you cling with all your might to this one silver lining.

Minho has made you pancakes, not the most nutritious meal but the only one you can stomach on your sick days. He's also brewed you tea, a singular sugar cube resting at the bottom of your cup, just the way you like it. Your grip on your fork tightens, knuckles paling. You wish he had put three sugar cubes, or that he made you anything but pancakes, something to reassure you that he didn’t know you so intimately. That your mind hasn’t stolen a love where every detail of you was known. 

The door opens, keys clinking on a solid surface. The sound of it tugs at your heart ever so faintly, a distant bell ringing somewhere far- it quiets down before you even realize it is there.

“Good morning,” Minho greets, the corners of his mouth curving upward although his eyes remain downcast, redness tinging its outlines. You look down at your cup, unable to hold his wounded stare.

“Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast and for going to my work. I really appreciate it,” you say.

“It's nothing. Your coworkers wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Mm,” you murmur. “That's nice of them."

“Here,” he slides a phone across the table. “I bought you a new one since your phone’s screen was smashed in the car accident, but I took it to a repair shop. Maybe they’d manage to fix it.”

You go to protest when he shakes his head, silencing you. “Don’t say It’s too much.”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips at his accurate prediction, momentarily halting Minho in his tracks. You swallow the sound down as Minho clears his throat, dissipating your laughter into thin air. “I put my phone number there. Also, the ones of your family that I have. Always call me if you need anything, okay?” he pauses, locking your eyes with his. “Anything.”

“It's okay, I really don't want to bother you. You might be busy."

“I’ll still answer,” he quickly responds. “I’ll always answer you.” 

There is a certain sincerity that coats Minho's words, one that softens the edges of his letters, making them easier to permeate your being, to sink into the seas of your soul.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Yes, hon- " He inhales deeply, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Yes, Yn?”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course.”

The ensuing hours blur into a hazy dance, in which you’re only awakened by Minho’s warm hand on your shoulder, as he brings you lunch, then dinner to your room, paired with the medicine you need to take. He doesn’t talk to you, only carrying out the tray outside when he deems you asleep- as if tiptoeing near your existence, afraid he’d slip into you again, knowing you won’t be there to catch him.

It's nearly midnight when you leave your room to use the bathroom. You pause near the door when you spot Minho petting his cats. You don’t even know their names, you haven’t dared to ask, still foolishly holding on to the hopes that this is but a horrible nightmare, one clawing at your tender skin even after you rose.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” he coos softly, and the cats respond with plaintive mewls as if understanding his words. “Mm. I’m really sad too,” his voice is barely above a whisper, as though it’s a confession he isn’t ready to speak out loud. The pain in your ribs intensifies.

“But it’s okay, she’ll remember us. We are her family, she can’t forget us forever, right?” your breathing hitches. “Right,” he adds softly, as if to reassure himself; to inflate hope in a heart deserted by you.

Day 3.

Minho threw away the wilted flowers, leaving the vase bare at the center of the kitchen table. 

You almost wish he hadn't- those lifeless blooms were the sole reflection of your faded spirit within this home. Now everything in the house seemed alive, grand windows ushering in daylight to cascade upon the living space, causing the ivory walls to glisten. Everything, except for you and Minho, two ghosts skirting along the existence of one another.

There is, was, love imprinted in this house. You could sense it though you couldn’t feel it anymore. By the two cat mugs that connect through their tails, your products intermingling with Minho's in the bathroom sink, the notes you found hung on the fridge- some with his handwriting, most with yours, reminding Minho how much you loved him.

Where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air, gone as if it had never existed? Has it turned into something else, lurking beneath the surface of your skin, waiting for you to remember?

You can’t find the answers, and as Minho finishes up his breakfast, you find yourself longing to ask him about the past year. Who you were and what you’ve lived. But you know it’ll feel like salt on a wound, akin to bringing a mirror before his face, reminding him of all that's been lost.

So instead, you offer to wash the dishes. He refuses, not that you expected anything else given his attentiveness to you.

“It’s only two plates and two cups, I can do it,” you insist, but he just stares blankly at you, before motioning to your ribs, and your swollen ankle. “It’ll be quick, please. I-I want to do it.”

“Fine,” he concedes, gaze softening. “But if you feel pain you'll stop.”

“Okay,” you smile tentatively, eager for the sense of normalcy that this mundane act would bring. You haven't forgotten how to wash a cup, at least.

Five minutes pass, and you suddenly freeze, plates drying in your hands. You have no idea where the dishes go.

This was your home, yet you can't even remember which cupboard holds the plates. 

Silent tears flow down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily. You clutch the plate in your hands so tightly you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. You selfishly wish it did- you were tired of being the sole broken entity in this house.

A small whimper escapes your lips, startling Minho who was mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He rushes to your side, brows furrowed, concern woven into his face. 

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?” he questions; eyes raking through your figure anxiously.

You shake your head as your tears double over. You can feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort, for a missing piece that was snatched from you, the void it left behind pulsating achingly within your being.

“I-I don’t know where the dishes go, and yesterday I tried to w-wash my hair and I c-couldn’t do it,” you admit through hiccups, plate still in your hands. Minho gently takes it from your tight hold, and your pinky brushes against his palm. He flexes his hand at the touch.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I should've shown you,” his voice is gentle, reminding you of how one soothes a child during a tantrum. You're embarrassing yourself but you can't find it in you to care. 

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t p-put them back in their place,” you choke out, head turned down, tears ricocheting off sage tiles. You’ve always wanted a green kitchen. You’ve gotten it and you can’t remember.

“It’s okay, I’ll put them back. Shh, yn, please don’t cry.” He’s slightly panicking, hands tightly fisted near his body as if he’s afraid they’d act on their own accord, reaching out to touch you the way they’ve done the past few months. He sighs softly before taking a cautious step toward you. 

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” he offers, smiling tenderly at you, knuckles brushing ever so gently against your cheeks. “Hm? You can sit in front of the sink and I’ll wash it.”

“You’d do it?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

There is a softness that emanates from every atom of Minho, flowing from his fingertips, molding everything he touches. You were sure of it as he stood beside you, pouring shampoo over your hair with you sitting on a stool, head tilted back to the sink, your favorite song playing in the background. As he dried your hair with a warm towel, and then settled behind you on the bed, gently lathering your hair with your familiar serum, brushing your strands with care, avoiding any tugs that might pain you.

Everything Minho does is not to hurt you. 

You went to sleep with the ghost of his fingers lingering on your scalp, his warm breath still caressing the back of your neck. You found slumber came much easier to you that night. You account it to your hair finally being clean.

Day 4.

“Yn?” Minho calls out gently, his head peering through the bedroom door.  “Should we go on a walk? Just around the block, the doctor said it’d be good.”

“Sure,” you nod, glancing at the bedside clock. 9:43 p.m. it reads. 

“Dress warmly, it’s cold outside,” he advises softly before leaving.

A few minutes later, you're clad in a gray university hoodie that drapes slightly past your thighs and a pair of matching sweatpants. Minho halts in his tracks upon seeing you, his eyes racking furiously over your figure. He shakes his head, swallowing a growing lump of despair. 

“Wait here,” he whispers, vanishing into his room, leaving you fidgeting in place. An orange cat sidles up to your feet and you slowly bend down to scratch its ears. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” you smile sadly and he purrs in response, as if forgiving you for forgetting.

You wished you could forgive yourself too, one day.

Minho comes back, a red scarf in his hands. He steps forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. With attentive care, he wraps the scarf around your neck, securing it in place. His brows furrow as he loops the fabric through and you release a small, shaky exhale.

There is a fog dissipating before your eyes, a misty veil lifted off your irises. In the four days you've known Minho, you always willed yourself to not look at him for too long, afraid of the pain you'd discern brewing over his figure, the shadows cast across his face.

But now, he stands so near that you cannot help but look at him. Wispy black bangs fall on top of his forehead, framing his rich honey eyes. His long eyelashes flutter with each blink, pupils dilated like a constellation-laden night sky. The smooth bridge of his high nose, dotted with the smallest mole; a well-defined cupid's bow outlining rosy, plump lips. He’s beautiful, even in his sadness; with sunken cheekbones and darkened eye circles, the hunch of his back, and the shake in his hands as he gently frees your hair from underneath the scarf.

Was it wrong of you to find beauty in his pain?

His gaze softens when it finally meets yours, his hand still holding your scarf tightly, as if it's a lifeline tethering him to you, one with which he verifies your existence, suddenly so elusive now that it no longer entwines with his.

It must be strange, surely, to grieve the loss of someone who’s still alive, breathing in the room next to yours.

Minho smiles at you, his fingers hovering above your head, as though he wished to smooth down your hair. He retracts his hand back, burying it deep inside the pocket of his black sweatpants, physically trapping it, stopping it from reaching it out to you once again. 

You’ve noticed his reticence to touch you, even when he wakes you in the morning to drink your medicine. His hand never fully rests upon your shoulder, it is only his fingertips that delicately graze your skin. It's as though he’s convinced you're but a figment of his imagination, and he fears that once he touches you, his hand will pass right through your body, shattering the illusion he foolishly held onto.

You blink and Minho’s already three steps away, grabbing his keys and opening the door.

Despite cautioning you against the cold, Minho doesn't say no when you ask for ice cream, paying for it before you can reach the counter. It's an unfamiliar brand, one that he advised you to try, and you don't regret following his choice. It’s a sweet mixture of vanilla and caramelized almonds, coated in rich milk chocolate- you can't stop the happy smile that graces your lips upon tasting it. 

You glance at Minho to find an unprecedented softness coloring his expression, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. It isn't a smile directed at you, but rather an uncontrollable display of his feelings, splashing across his face like paint on a canvas. 

You expect him to swallow this mark of affection down, to conceal it with a placid expression, but he doesn't. He only tilts his chin forward, gesturing to the ice cream.

"Do you like it?"

You hum in agreement, a grin stretching wider on your lips. "I do."

"You did too, back then, when I showed it to you," he says, almost casually, as if referring to a childhood memory that turned out to be more important to him than to you.

"You have good taste," you reply, scrunching your nose playfully at him. The smile slips away from his face, his voice somber when he speaks again. "I really do, don't I?"

Walking with Minho isn't as awkward as you had imagined it might be. He shows you the neighborhood- the nearby playground, the hidden flower shop tucked away in a corner and you make a mental note to visit it later. You point at closed shops inquiring about them- he answers each of your questions diligently.

Your accident is never brought up, and you both tiptoe around the topic, skirting the edge of a dark forest where the light no longer seeps through and dark vines cover the sun. 

You both refuse to venture into the unknown.

"Just down the road, there is a bookstore. They have really great deals and I bought most-" Shouts erupt from somewhere nearby, loud slurred voices of two men under the influence. Your hand instinctively wraps around Minho's forearm, while his hand moves in front of your body, acting as a shield. 

You freeze, letting out a shaky breath. "I- I hate yelling."

"I know," he responds simply, lowering his hand.

He knows you- it is a comforting thought, to realize that you exist beyond the confines of your own mind.

Day 5.

Minho’s staring blankly at his phone, your conversation shining dimly before his eyes. You’ve just sent him a text reassuring him that you indeed took your medicine since he wasn’t home today with you- his three days off work passing by in the blink of an eye. 

In his mind, the past week felt like a mirage, a nightmare woven with intricate threads of his deepest fears- losing you, never getting to see the glimmer in your eyes again, and then looking at it and realizing it is no longer directed at him. 

He exhales softly, tucking his phone into the pocket of his navy trousers. The salty breeze from the nearby lake grazes his senses, and he closes his eyes, yearning for a fleeting respite. 

He purposely avoids watching the sun's descent into the water, which paints the sky in hues of yellow and orange. He no longer finds the sunset unfolding before him captivating, or any other scenery, for that matter, even those he once deemed beautiful. The world, in his eyes, has become lackluster and devoid of vibrancy, overshadowed by a profound sadness he never fathomed would reside in his heart. 

He still doesn’t know how he managed to remain strong until now, tending to you, holding your gaze, and breathing near you when you don’t even remember him.

You’ve survived, he reminds himself, you were lucky enough to be able to draw these breaths. The thought of any other outcome sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine. You’re alive and you’ll be home, he clings to this truth as he starts making his way back to his apartment. 

For how long will this knowledge offer him solace? How long will it push him to face a new day? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he wants to. 

It is much deeper into the night, the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. Minho has given up on slumber since the day of your accident. He was used to the feel of your fingers playing with his hair, your goodnight kisses planted on his forehead, then his on yours. 

He doesn't know how to sleep without burying his head in your neck, your chest, your stomach, wherever he saw fit that day. And he was used to your warmth- the warmth of your body as he pressed it tightly to his, the warmth of your love as you whispered goodnight to him. And the living room feels immensely cold in your absence. 

He fixates his gaze on the ceiling, resolute in his effort to avoid scanning the room. Since every corner he dares to inspect serves as a poignant reminder of the life you both once shared, a life whose echoes still reverberate in the air around him. The sound of your laughter, the memory of your annoyed whines when he teased you a bit too fervently. Vivid recollections unfold before his eyes- your tender kisses exchanged under the fridge's light, warm hugs by the front door after a particularly long day, none of you willing to let go first. 

He remembers your delighted giggles the first time you entered the house. It was still unfurnished, save for a floatable mattress and two empty cups of ramen beside it. But you were happy, immensely so, and your joy seemed to fill every room, painting it with shades of your love. Now the house feels empty- you're here and yet you aren't, and he is still on the sidewalk where he received that fateful call from your hospital. 

The moonlight filters through the window, and Minho looks at the light without truly seeing it. It's as if darkness surrounds him entirely- a bottomless sky where the stars of your affection have fizzled out, so suddenly, leaving him alone to wander blind. He can't help but feel guilty- had he not given you a love worth remembering?

Minho sighs loudly once again, trying to coax the reluctant breaths to escape his body. He pulls himself to his feet to check on you, knowing that you had to sleep upright for the first few days so your ribs would heal properly, which is why he often found himself readjusting your body at night. 

He peeks through the door, the light from the hallway casting an ethereal glow on your body. He frowns when he notices you fidgeting in your sleep, eyebrows knitted together. A soft gasp escapes your lips and Minho hurries to your side. He's witnessed your nightmares before and he knows that this one must be particularly terrifying to elicit such startled sounds from you.

“Y/n,” Minho coaxes gently, but you don’t respond. He presses his palm to your shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Y/n, wake up.” You writhe in your place, fear evident in your features, and Minho grabs both your shoulders, growing more urgent in his attempts to wake you. “Y/n, come on wake up!” he speaks louder, and you startle awake, pushing his arms away.

“I’m... Where am I?” you ask frantically, hand running through your hair. A sharp pain seems to surge through your ribs as you clutch your chest, slightly doubling over. 

“Take it easy, Y/n. Deep breaths,” he wills gently and you raise your head, meeting his eyes. Recognition shines in them, but not love, not anymore. He never knew affection could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“Minho… I- I remember,” you gasp, tears trailing down your face at an alarming rate. He freezes in place, tongue thickening in his mouth, unable to move it.

“What... what do you remember?” he asks carefully, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“The accident. I remember driving and I… I was going in my lane, I- I didn’t… I wasn’t driving fast, but a truck came out of nowhere and its lights blinded me, and then… it rammed into the passenger seat side of the car and-" Your hands shake as you bring them to your face. “The blood, there was so much blood coming out of me, that’s- that’s the last thing I remember, it was in my hands and my arms and-" You’re wiping frantically at your skin as if erasing remnants of the red liquid only you can see. “I bled so much but I was… I- I don’t-"

“Can I hold your hands?” Minho cuts you off, needing the panic to dissipate from your being.

“Please,” you stutter, and he promptly grabs your hands in his warm ones, intertwining your fingers together, rubbing his thumb soothingly across your palm. 

“You are safe now. You are alive and you are breathing and you are safe.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I drove safely, why… why was I hit?” you ask in a small, broken voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of the world. Minho swallows his own tears, throwing them down the pits of his pain. The one thing he wished you’d never remember was your accident, the sight of your unconscious body for those three days nearly driving him insane. 

“He was drunk. And he’s in jail now. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t have prevented it." 

You remain silent, gaze lost on the wall. “Hm? It wasn’t your fault, right?" he presses, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, unconvinced. Minho reluctantly drops your hand to pour you a glass of water, and you diligently drink it, before curling around yourself in a ball. 

“No, you can’t sit like this,” he gently reprimands and you pout. 

"My heart hurts. The pressure helps."

“I know it does,” he smiles in understanding, “but we have to make sure your ribs won’t hurt more, alright?” he explains as he pulls you upright, tucking pillows beneath your arms. He grabs a hoodie from the closet and rolls it into a ball, placing it gently on your chest. 

“Here, you can hug this instead.” You giggle quietly at the makeshift plushie, but your laughter suddenly morphs into fresh tears, catching him off-guard. 

“I’m so tired, Minho. And I’m so frustrated and mad and sad. Is it possible to f-feel all these things at once?" You hiccup, burying your face into his hoodie, soaking it in tears. 

“It is,” he hums gently, “Do you think it’d help if you talked to a therapist?” He feels you tense up beneath the comforter. “Only if you want to, on your own terms.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper. 

“Of course,” he says. “Try to sleep again, mm?”

“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle quietly, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your cardigan. “Do you have work tomorrow?” you ask.

“I do.”

“What do you work as?” 

“Computer programming. I’m also a dance teacher on the side,” he adds quietly, feeling a bit vulnerable at revealing this bit about himself again.

“How do you manage both?” you ask in awe and he shrugs.

 “My IT job leaves me a lot of free time. And I’ve always loved dance, so it doesn’t really feel like a job, you know?”

“Mm, you must work very hard at it. That’s why your body’s so toned,” you say almost absentmindedly, as Minho lets out a surprised chuckle at your words. 

“You think my body is toned?”

“I mean- I didn’t ogle you I just… you know, you wear these fitted shirts it’s hard not to notice your muscles and-"

"You are sick and yet you’re staring at my body?” he tsks. “I feel used.”

“Hey,” you hit him with the hoodie he gave you. “Forget I said anything,” you pout. 

“It’s okay, I work very hard for these, thank you very much,” he flexes slightly, and genuine laughter bubbles up from you both. This might be the one thing he misses the most. 

You both quiet down, silence filling the room once again, but it isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable, almost as if you're the same person he's always known.  

“What’s your favorite color?” you suddenly ask. 

“Purple.”

“Did my favorite color change over this past year?”

“No,” he chuckles, “it’s still that obnoxious orange.”

“It’s not obnoxious, it’s peculiar.”

“it’s weird and it hurts my poor eyes,” he whines, covering his face as if wounded by the mere thought of it. 

“Hey, what if it can hear us and now you just hurt its feelings?”

“Colors have feelings now?” he asks, amused.

“Everything has feelings,” you nod matter-of-factly.

“Okay then think of the feelings of this bed we are both squishing with our weights.”

“Don’t say that. Now I’m sad for it,” you pat the comforter gently, a slight pout tugging at your lips. 

“I think you should sleep,” he smiles and you fake a gasp. “Is my convo boring you?” 

“Yes. Now sleep, Yn,” he brings the comforter up your body, sliding away from the bed. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Can you… can you sleep here too? I saw the inflatable mattress in the storage room. If that’s not… too much to ask for.”

"Of course not. I'll be back." 

"Thank you, Minho" you smile, lower lip slightly quivering. "Thank you for not being mad at me."

Just how many cracks can one heart bear before breaking beyond repair? Minho thinks he's close to finding out. 

Day 6.

The lights of your dreams have returned, but they are no longer comforting, nor warm, they glare harshly, searing your eyes as they announce your impending doom. Each second draws out in slow-motion and you find yourself counting the breaths you inhale, fearing they may be your last. One in, one out, one in, one out. The moment you dreaded unfolds- the truck collides with your car, flipping it upside down.

However, this time, flames rage within. You know that your car wasn't burned, but they feel terrifyingly tangible as they latch onto your skin. The heat becomes unbearable, you are no longer sure that this is just a mere dream. You try to scream but smokey air fills your lungs instead, robbing you of your ability to speak.

You need to wake up. You need someone to rouse you from this nightmare. Minho. You try to utter his name, but it escapes your lips in a strangled whisper. The lights won.

A cool hand clasps your own, yanking you from the fiery dream, dissolving it like sugar in a hot cup of tea. You startle awake to find Minho hovering over you, brows knitted in concern, his hand tenderly cradling yours.

“Are you okay? Another bad dream?” he inquires and you sigh in response, nodding as your head falls back onto the pillow.

He brushes your hair back, some damp strands still clinging to your sweaty forehead. "You screamed my name. Was I in your nightmare?” he ventures carefully, afraid he was one of the sources of your fear.

“No, I… I thought of you, in my dream,” you reassure, although your words seem to have the opposing effect, making Minho pause in his tracks. You’ve noticed his habit of freezing around you as if needing time to process what you just said. You wonder if you’ve ever came to learn the meaning behind each of his silences, what his blinks convey in ways his tongue fails to.

“You are heating up,” he clears his throat, pressing his hand against your forehead. “Do you wanna shower? I’ll make you tea meanwhile.”

“Okay, yeah. I’d like that,” you nod, glancing at your phone- 3.47 a.m.

Twenty minutes later, you find Minho sitting on the inflatable bed, legs crossed, two steaming mugs of tea before him. He appears drowsy, eyes shutting and reopening as if fending off slumber. It’s almost an endearing sight- the way his bangs fall before his eyes, obstructing his vision, the sleeves of his pullover dangling over his hands, hiding them from your view. He brought the mattress without you asking him to. The attention brings a smile to your face.

“Hi,” you greet softly and Minho looks up, a tender smile on his face. “Hey. Here is your tea.”

“Thank you,” you beam at him, settling on the edge of your bed, legs crisscrossed to mirror his. “I’m sorry that I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep, just resting my eyes.”

“Isn't that what sleep is?” you snort and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“I was still conscious, you know. I can’t really sleep these days.”

“Is the couch uncomfortable?” you ask, worried, fidgeting with your lower lip.

“It’s not the couch,” he says as his eyes lock on yours, a stare so intense it forces you to look down at your cup. ‘it’s you’, you read in his gaze. You have no answer for that.

“What's your favorite food?” you suddenly wonder.

“Pudding.”

“But that’s dessert?”

“I really like the one you used to make me.”

“I cooked for you? and you liked it?” you giggle. “I’m not really good at it, usually.”

“I taught you some basic skills,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows proudly at you.

“Too bad your effort is now wasted.”

“It’s not a waste if it was done with love,” he pauses, licking his lips. “And I remember it.”

A bittersweet fog shrouds the air- he remembers that memory, but you don’t. Perhaps you will never bridge that gap, no matter how much you want to. The room in your heart may remain forever locked, the gateway to that chamber brimming with your stolen memories. Maybe you're condemned to merely stand before the closed door, straining to hear the echoes of the love that resonates behind, forever just out of reach.

You don’t fall asleep again that night. And as Minho’s quiet snores fill the room, you rummage your mind in search of a pudding recipe, hoping to retrieve the memory he spoke of so tenderly, shaky hands holding his mug tightly. Silent tears trail down your cheeks and you try your best to stifle the sound of your cries. 

You want to make pudding. You want to make him pudding so badly.

Day 7.

It’s been a week since you woke up anew. Seven days adrift in a vast sea where waves of your memories lap at the shores of your mind, unable to breach the walls guarding your recollections of the past year.

Minho took you to the hospital for your weekly check-up. He sat by your side as the doctor reassured you that your ribs were healing relatively well, but you still needed time to recover, time for your body to mend, time for your memories to return. You loathed the waiting, the wasted days slipping through your fingers. You wanted a now. 

But you kept all these thoughts to yourself, thanking the doctor as he exited the room. 

Minho rented a bicycle to drive you around since the thought of being in a car made your anxiety spike. He installed a little seat for you, in that bright, obnoxious orange color you love very dearly. The sight of it nearly brought tears to your eyes this morning.

Minho idly pedaled around, choosing a scenic route, one he knew by heart from the looks of it. You closed your eyes, savoring the last sun rays of the year. Autumn was fading, winter clawing its way into the seasons slowly. You weren’t sure you could handle both the cold and the grief.

Miho took time off work for your doctor's appointment, and you both spent the day around one another, side by side on the couch, a new book in your hands, and an anime playing on the TV for Minho. 

You could see him casting occasional, nervous glances in your direction, as you flipped the pages of the book. You didn’t understand why at first.

But then you did.

You only brought it up at night, when it was past 2 a.m. and you knew that Minho wasn’t sleeping either, the screen of his phone illuminating his face. He left the inflatable mattress in the room, no longer waiting for a nightmare to occur. You weren’t complaining. You desperately needed company.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Mm?”

“How did we meet?”

You can hear Minho suck in a deep breath at your question, before placing his phone down, the only light source in the room fizzling out. It made talking easier that way, when only your voices were heard, carried around, as if emitting from two entities that weren’t you both.

“We met… near your old apartment block. I was going to the kimbap place near yours, you remember that one, right?” 

You hum in response.

“And I saw you crying, crouching near an injured cat. Some car had run over her leg, and she couldn’t walk anymore. And you didn’t know what to do, so I helped you. You insisted on coming with me to the vet where I take my cats. So, we caught a cab. And you were so worried, you didn’t stop crying, so the cab driver thought I did something to you,” he chuckles faintly.

“Then, the vet put a cast on her leg and reassured us that she’d be okay. And I told him I’d take her home and bring her for check-ups. But you were so worried, you begged me to send you updates about the cat. So, you gave me your number. And we talked.”

“What happened to the cat?”

“I took her to a rescue store I trusted since I couldn’t take her in. and we still visited her from time to time. And then, she found a good family.”

“And what happened to us?” you inquire softly, hoping that if your voice was quiet enough then your question wouldn't hurt Minho as much. 

“We kept in touch," he said. "And it was… easy to talk to you, I felt as if I had known you for my entire life. When you found out I had three cats, we Facetimed a lot so you’d see them, but then we just kept on calling, every day, for nearly two weeks. Being with you felt natural, you know? I didn’t overthink it. I never did."

“And then three weeks later you came over to see Soonie, Dori, and Doongie. We ended up watching three movies in a row, and you were so tired you slept on my couch.”

“That’s embarrassing,” you chuckle.

"Yes," he laughs and you reach over to swat his shoulder playfully. "But it was also cute, and endearing. Then you came over a lot, and we just cooked together. Well, I cooked and you watched.”

“Right, that sounds more like me," you instantly agree. 

“We hung outside too, whenever one of us had free time. We had a lot of common hobbies and interests so we never ran out of things to talk about. We made time for each other too.”

“How did we start dating?”

“You made the first move.”

“I did?” you shoot up from your place, hissing when the abrupt movement causes a twinge of pain in your ribs.

“Take it easy,” he giggles, as he illuminates your face with his flashlight. “You did.”

“Did you put a spell on me? I swore I’d never make a first move again after I was rejected in third grade. That was my most sacred oath."

“Well… you were ranting about this book. The one you were reading today,” he adds, and your excitement fizzles out, as the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. “You were sad because you had no one to talk to about it. So, I bought the book and read it. I gave you my copy, complete with highlighted passages and notes. And when I did… you kissed me, without warning,” his voice is softer now, as he fiddles with the tip of his blushing ears. "You said it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you.”

“It was. It is,” you whisper, heart caught in your throat. “I saw the photograph of us both lodged between the pages of the book. Did we take it that day?”

“Yes, we weren’t dating, not yet. Because I told you I wanted to take you out on a proper date. But you wanted us to take a picture holding the book… So you’d remember.”

“So I'd remember,” you repeat, voice quivering. What good was it for in the end?

 “I looked so happy in the photograph,” you whisper, tears welling up your eyes. “I looked so happy with you,” your voice breaks as you utter that last part. "Did I love you, Minho?"

"You did," he nods softly, blinking away his own tears. 

“And did you love me?”

“I did. I still do, very much.”

“Thank you, for loving me. It sounds like I’ve lived a happy year with you.”

Minho's pain is akin to a polite guest; it lingers by the corner, speaking in whispers, hardly ever raising its voice. You'd never really notice it, unless you strain your ears, as you're doing now. Only then would you discern the tremors of his quiet sobs- broken, stifled, determined not to make themselves known, only escaping his lips when he thinks you've fallen asleep. 

Day 8.

Whenever an overwhelming emotion ran freely along the corridors of your soul, you'd often find yourself curled in a fetal position, knees drawn to your chest, like a fragile leaf.

Your teacher once explained that it reminds us of safer times in the wombs of our mothers, when the cruelty of life hasn’t yet reached us. 

It is the way you’re resting now, upon the cold, hardwood floor, dozens of books surrounding you. You decided to go through each book in Minho’s library, the need to satiate your curiosity overtaking you. You didn’t know what you were looking for, exactly. Other photographs, surely, in the hopes that one of them would spark up your memory, ignite the flame of remembrance. 

What you didn’t expect was to find Minho talking to you through books. Within the pages, amid the words, scribbled in small, dainty handwriting, threads of his thoughts all relating to you. Quotes he thought you’d appreciate, highlighted segments that reminded him of you. And dedications, so many dedicated lines you felt like you could drown in them. It felt as if Minho was on a quest to find love within every line, only to inscribe your name beside it.

Putting down the last book, you were left with a huge void, akin to a black hole eating away at your heart. So, you laid on the floor, one arm underneath your head, knees held tightly to your chest- as if trying to create borders for your sadness, to stop it from spilling out of your body, drowning the house in even more sorrow. Those four walls have had enough, more than they could contain. And so did you.

You suddenly longed for the very beginning of your life, when time was but a tranquil stream, when you were unaware of the hurtful years it would carve into your existence. Back to when your spine was still curled around itself; for it was never meant to be straightened. Your spine was never strong enough to bear your pain. 

You wanted to talk to someone, but you didn’t know who you could turn to. You didn’t know how to articulate these emotions into words, tangible enough for someone to understand them. And you couldn’t talk to Minho about it, not when he was hurting on his own. 

Because he smiled down at his cats, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. His laughter echoed around the room when he talked to his friends on the phone. And sometimes, he even hummed under his breath while making you breakfast. But this happiness never reached his eyes, behind his pupils the sadness seared itself into his veins, casting a gloomy shadow that followed him everywhere he went. It was a palpable ache, one that filled the very atmosphere with the metallic taste of grief. Making it almost impossible for you to breathe in. Even more so when you remember it was all your fault.

These are the thoughts that haunted you all day, as they have been doing for the past week. Minho must have noticed that you were feeling gloomier than usual, a silent storm raging by his side, since he put up a romcom for you. “It made you laugh a lot when you watched it months ago.”

“How do you remember all of these things about me?” you ponder, scratching the fragile skin near your nails, easily torn, just like you. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Should I stop?” he asks quietly, deflecting your question.

“No,” you say the truth. “It'd be weird if you were an actual stranger, but… you knew me. And I knew you. and I still feel safe around you.” 

He nods silently, but something in his gaze compels you to keep talking. 

“I mean, I never felt uncomfortable around you these days, which surprised me too. I just… I suppose that even if my mind doesn’t remember, my heart does, in a way?”

“My heart will always remember you,” he whispers, gaze adrift in a faraway memory. 

A gear shifts in your mind, a sudden light flooding your vision. You find yourself within a grand canopy bed, its pure white curtains swaying to the rhythm of a whimsical breeze, their delicate fabric brushing lightly against your cheek. It’s slightly cold from the wide-open windows, but then it’s warm, as a gentle hand finds its place on your thigh, kindling an ember deep within, setting your very soul ablaze. 

The curtains sway with the wind, obscuring your view, but you can still discern the sound of your laughter, echoing like distant chimes. And a tenderness, so delicate it seemed almost otherworldly, trailing along your skin, as warmth caresses your cheek and gently traverses the curve of your collarbones, peppering it with the softest kisses. You can't quite behold it, but it is unmistakably there, an ineffable presence that threatens to burst your heart at the seams—a memory of your love for Minho.

It is a blurry sight, like peering into a worn-out photograph, its details softened by the sands of time. But you clutch to it- to your fading laughter and hushed conversation, and then your voice ringing clearly in your mind, the promise you made to Minho. 

'My heart will always remember you'. 

You startle back in a jolt; the light and warmth have extinguished. They are now dull, withered down, sitting next to you with their head hung low. 

It takes you an inhumane effort to swallow down the lump in your throat.

Day 16.

This week has been particularly cold. Not temperature-wise, October has always harbored these same frigid temperatures and you've gotten used to them, to the relentless winds brushing against your skin. Only this time they pierced right through your soul instead.

You knew what had changed. You had felt the sadness, the frustration, the guilt- all blending into one sorrowful symphony, pulling at your heartstrings the way one does to a harp. Yet, amid these familiar emotions, a new feeling loomed large this past week- anxiety.

It arrived in sudden, icy bursts, cold beads of perspiration cascading down your spine, feet suddenly freezing no matter how fuzzy your socks were- the physical telltales, then came the emotional ones. The shadows of dread, for we fear the unseen more than that which we can touch. The growing panic gnawing at your heart, hinting that something profoundly disastrous lurked on the horizon.

Anxiety held you suspended in the air, bound by invisible ropes that compelled you to watch from above as the days drifted past you. You were a ghost haunting an empty shell, hollow and resonant with anxiety's clang, akin to an empty can's descent to the ground.

Your appetite had fled, leaving you alone to grapple with the chore of feeding yourself, mechanically ingesting food only to pacify Minho’s concerned gaze. The TV’s volume blared, since you desperately needed the voices of other people to invade your mind, to render your thoughts merciless, forcing them to put their sword-like tongues down.

And the exhaustion, not accounted to your broken ribs, for Minho had meticulously overseen their recovery. It was an emotional fatigue, a weariness that clung to your every breath, trapping them within your ribcage, far beyond their time, until they tethered on the brink of exploding in your lungs- a supernova of darkness devouring your essence. Only then did the breaths release their hold on you.

So, you patiently awaited the inevitable unraveling, because you knew this wasn’t an ordinary anxiety. Your soul whispered to you in a language your mind could no longer translate, throbbing with a message you couldn’t quite recollect, striving urgently to jog your memory of a monumental truth.

But you didn’t remember– you should have.

You should've known it was Minho’s birthday.

It is near midnight when you venture out of your room, the inflatable bed by your side unusually vacant. A dim glow draws you to the kitchen, and as you stand by its entrance, an intensified cold grips you. It chills the blood in your veins, transforming it into splintered shards that prick uncomfortably beneath your skin.

Minho is sitting by the table, a small, muted cake before him, a shoebox by his side. A solitary candle flickers in front of his face, casting elongating shadows on his chiseled features. The flame is about to fizzle out- you feel like your heart will closely follow suit.

"Minho..." you call out gently, careful not to startle him from the trance ensnaring him. He doesn't react to the sound of your voice.

"Minho, I…"

"Today was my birthday."

His tone is cold, like the darkening clouds before a stormy night. His words feel like lightning bolts piercing your core.

"It would be stupid to blow this candle out, wouldn't it? Because you and I both know my wish won't come true. Maybe it never will. And it's killing me, yn." His voice quivers as it utters your name, a slight shake taking over his lips. His cheeks are tear stained- glimmering reflections under the golden flame. You've never seen him this sad. You don't know how to comfort him in his sadness.

A rush of nausea overwhelms your being, a yearning to expel every emotion, methodically, until your heart transforms into a tranquil organ, solely pulsing life's crimson essence through your frame. Nothing more, nothing less.

"This shoe box is yours. You kept it under the bed, filled it with everything that reminded you of me. You told me..." he pauses, taking in a deep breath. "You told me that you wanted to remember everything about us, every single detail. But I... I don't care if you don't remember every date we went to. I just-" his forehead rests on his palm, as he squeezes his eyes shut. "I just want you to remember that you love me."

Hot tears are rolling across his cheeks, splattering across the table like a broken mosaic. He doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away. He's had enough.

"Minho, I’m-"

"I mean- that's not too much to ask for, right?" he finally lifts his head, locking his eyes with yours. A black abyss, a dark void. You are the one who sucked out all the light.

"You- you said you loved me. And I- I felt it, y/n, when you looked at me, when you touched me. I felt it, it wasn't- it wasn't just words, I-" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at his black locks furiously. "You loved me," his voice breaks. "Why- why can't you remember that you loved me?"

Your tongue bursts to flame in your mouth, its grey ashes choking you from within. What could you even say? How do you stop the bleeding of a heart when you carry knives for fingers?

Minho abruptly stands up, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "We talked about marriage, a-about kids, you said- you said you'd choose me to be the father of your children, you said you wanted a big house w-with me and you-” he points at you, chest heaving, eyes rimmed red. “You said you wanted us to sit at the patio when we're eighty and you wanted us to hold hands still," he chuckles bitterly, his arms falling limp by his side incredulously. "And now you don't even remember me."

He grabs the box, rummaging through its contents furiously. "You see this?" he waves dried flowers before your eyes, their petals falling to the floor from the force of his agitation. "These are the flowers I got you for our first date. You dried them and put them here because you- you said you wanted to preserve it, to remember."

"And this, the cinema tickets from our first movie date. You were so tired you just slept on my shoulder all the time and then I- I carried you home and you kissed me." He's growing more frantic, rifling through the shoe box in a frenzy. You remain rooted by the kitchen's entrance, a sense of powerlessness holding you captive, an unbreakable vice around your being.

"This is the napkin from our favorite cat café, and look," he grabs your hand, clammy palm pressed to yours, pulling you toward the table." This is the receipt of the first time we went grocery shopping together and-" he waves it in the air, before slamming it onto the table. "And, you e-even kept this stupid rock I gave you right before I told you I love you for the first time, because you said it was the happiest day of your life, my god Yn how can you not remember?"

A broken, sob-laden chuckle escapes his lips, a sound so heart wrenchingly human, so painfully poignant that for an instant, it fills you with a bitter aversion to your own humanity- it was never meant to inflict this much pain upon someone else.

Your thoughts shatter as Minho tenderly cups your face, urging you to confront his turbulent gaze. He seeks something within your eyes, and you desperately hope he'd find it, whatever it may be, anything to stop the tremor in his hands as they anchor you in place.

"Why did you- why did you keep all of this if not to remember me.” He asks, unblinking, lip quivering. “Please, please, remember me, just- just try, okay?"

"I’m so sorry-"

"No. No. Don't- don't apologize like it's final like you could never love me again," his hands glide to your shoulders, shaking you slightly in place. "Don't you understand? I-I don't want an apology I want you to remember me."

"Minho..."

"Just look through this, it's our happiest memories y/n, okay?" he let goes of you, circling the table before shoving the box into your hands. He smiles- attempts to, it is an unnatural presence amidst his tears, so out of place it sends shivers down your spine. "Look at it, yn, please," he pleads as your hold on the box falters. "I can’t remember us alone. I’m crushing under the weight of everything we lived it’s exhausting me!"

His voice ascends pitch, the end of his words hanging into the air, searing themselves into the particles you breathe. His voice leaves a painful echo on his trail. You’re exhausting him.

You put the box down, taking three cautious step forwards.

And then you hug Minho.

He can't even hold you back, body trembling with the sobs rippling through him as soon as your chest presses to his. He sinks to the floor and you follow suit, arms enfolding his concaved shoulders tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Im sorry, I'm so sorry Minho. I- I wish I could remember."

You want the kitchen to collapse upon itself. There is too much grief in such a small room- it stains the walls like blood droplets, absorbs his cries like a saturated sponge.

You don’t think you could ever sit at this table again.

He finally clasps your back, drawing you even nearer to him. "Can- can you pretend, just today, please? For my birthday. Pretend you still love me."

"Of course. It's okay, I’m here, honey. I'm here."

"I love you. I love you so much," he whispers, lips pressed against your neck. "And it hurts to love you, so much." He brings your hand to his heart. "It hurts so much right here."

He doesn't let go of your hand, softly caressing your knuckles. His breath hitches as his thumb hovers over your ring finger. "I... I was going to propose, you know? I even bought the ring, stored it away for when the time is right. Do you think you would have remembered if you woke up wearing it?"

He knows your answer would've been yes. You know that too, in the matching cat mugs and the book annotations and the way Minho gently held your face, even in the depths of his despair. Everywhere you look, your answer echoes back- yes, the home chants in unison, that's what you would've said. Yes, yes, yes.

Day 17.

In the cracks of concrete sidewalks, tenacious flowers manage to sprout. Just how in the depths of Minho’s pain, small joys bloomed, nestled in the vacant spaces between you and him. 

You'd greet him each time he opened the door, your voice resonating through the apartment like the sweetest sonnet. And he would always pause by the doorknob, basking in the sound of your voice that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Your tone still held that same dulcet timber, a golden honey that once dripped freely upon his soul. 

But today, Minho swung open the door and an eerie hush greeted him instead. He ventured in, calling after you, only to be met with utter silence. He anxiously checked the rooms, opening the doors hastily one by one. But you weren't there. You weren't home. 

Minho felt the familiar tendrils of worry coiling around his heart, constricting it with each passing moment. He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing your number, only to fall into your voicemail, the robotic voice chilling him to the core.

In the past two weeks, you had made sure to text Minho each time you went outside- a precaution you took due to your fractured ribs which came with frequent fits of dizziness. It was a safety measure for one person, at least, to know where you are. 

But you didn't text him today. And he had no idea where you might’ve gone to. 

Minho tried to suck in a deep breath, willing the fear to relinquish its icy grip on his body so he could think properly. Maybe you had simply forgotten, he reasoned. Yet, he knew that you never back out on your promises. They were sacred for you since they were once senselessly broken.

For the second time in a mere three weeks, Minho’s deepest fears unfurl like a nightmare before him, ensnaring him in a tapestry woven with the bloody threads of everything that went wrong yesterday. 

He carried his shame akin to heavy bricks on his shoulders, causing them to hunch forward- a coward, leaving the house before you even rose, and on his trail, your breakfast and a hastily written note. He couldn’t fathom eating at that kitchen table with you, not when his sobs still echoed around those sage walls, as did your quiet voice as you tried to soothe his cries, holding him between your tender arms. 

Minho was scared. He was terrified you’d never come back home after everything that had happened, the words he said and the way he pleaded, nearly at your feet, consumed by a sadness grander than anything he’s ever known. 

So, he storms out of the apartment in a hurry, scouring the nearby playground. But you aren’t there. The grocery store is next, the library, the flower shop, the cat café tucked in a corner that you may have stumbled on. 

You were still nowhere to be found.

A dreadful sense of foreboding overcame him, akin to how he felt when his phone rang two weeks prior- the unfamiliar number of the hospital shining before his eyes. What if something happened to you, a fit of dizziness but no one was around to help? Life doesn’t grant you a second chance. No one has ever brushed against death’s shoulder twice and lived to tell the tale. What if he receives another call? 

He couldn’t survive another call.  

Minho stands in the midst of the road, clutching his head with a tight grip, desperately searching his memory for the places that once brought you solace during the months he spent knowing you. However, he quickly remembers that you no longer know of those places.

So where could you have gone? 

An epiphany dawns upon Minho- the bridge you had pointed out to him from a distance on one of your walks, the first place you claimed as your own in the city. It towered above the ocean, suspended several meters in the air. He couldn't accompany you there that day, bound by a paralyzing fear of heights.

He prays with all his might that he's right. 

He dashes towards the bridge akin to a madman, the desperate rhythm of his pounding feet mirroring the urgency in his heart. It looms tantalizingly close, a mere 15 minutes away, and Minho, in a state of disarray, knows he's not fit to drive right now. He was never fond of running, he didn't enjoy the searing ache in his lungs, robbing him of his ability to breathe. But he welcomes the pain today- it means that he's running fast enough to reach you. He hopes, he prays.

Minho spots you from a distance, a mere silhouette standing at the bridge's edge, your figure unmistakable with the red scarf tightly wound around your neck. Relief nearly brings him to his knees - you're alive.

Minho doesn't think as he sprints to you, eyes solely focused on you and not the void beneath his feet.

"Yn!" he calls out from afar, and you startle, snapping your head back to look at him. He wonders what he must look at you, disheveled hair, the wind knocking down his jean jacket. But he doesn't care. 

Minho stands before you without pause, instantly pulling you into the shelter of his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the familiar smell of your shampoo, a constant through the months of knowing you. He clings to it, to the familiarity of your scent and the way your heartbeat seems to pour from your body to his, speaking in a language only your souls can comprehend. His arms clutch at you tightly, rugged breaths escaping his body, dew tears gathering in his eyes and dropping down your shoulders. 

Your arms hang limp by your side, confusion etched across your face at the urgency, the frenzy in which he pulled you to his chest, an emotion you hadn’t known in him in these past weeks.

You tentatively raise your hands, patting his back slowly. "Minho, what’s wrong?" you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"You weren't home. I- I thought something happened to you." 

"No, I just went on a walk and lost track of time," you reassure him and he pulls away, warm hands cradling your cheeks. 

"You're okay, right? Tell me you're okay," he pleads and you smile, nodding your head. “I'm okay, don’t worry.” 

Minho drops your face, embarrassment flooding his being at his outburst. It morphs to panic as he realizes the expanse beneath—nothing but the vast ocean, the wind slamming into his body, making him lose his footing.

"Are... you okay?" you ask cautiously. "Minho, you're shaking," you point out, a frown tugging at your lips. "Are you cold?" 

He stays silent, unable to place a word beyond the stutter of his lips. 

"Here," you hurriedly unwrap your red scarf, enclosing it around his neck. "You're shivering, Minho," you grab his hands, rubbing his fingers, blowing warmth into them, an attempt to kindle fire into him.

"I'm not- not cold. I- I’m scared of heights," he admits through a stutter, eyes tightly closed. 

"Then why are you here?" You ask, surprised. 

"Because you are." 

His confession comes out quietly, softened by the blow of his fear. His eyes remain closed, missing the tears gathering in your eyes, the ones you swiftly try to blink away. 

"Let's go, just keep your eyes closed. Hold my hand," you entwine your fingers with his, squeezing it lightly to signal you're there, as you walk across the bridge. 

You don't let go until you finally regain solid ground. 

"You're safe. you can open your eyes," you say quietly. 

"You're okay, right?" he inquires again, stepping closer.

"Why are you asking me this when you're the one shaking?" you chuckle, almost exasperated, nothing funny in the sound.

"I was worried about you, and I thought you left… after yesterday."

"Why would you- My god Minho why would you even come running across this bridge? Why would you do something like that when you're afraid?"

"Because I love you," his voice is resolute, soft as a whisper, as he states a simple truth. It only makes yours reach new heights.

"But why- why do you love me? Why would you still love me after everything I put you through?" 

"You didn't put me through anything," he shakes his head, and you take a step back, facing away from him. He can see your body heaving up and down, the weight of unspoken words making your heartbeat race. And then you snap. 

"You broke down yesterday," you pivot back, pointing at his chest. "You broke down in my arms because of me. Why would you still love me after all this Minho I don't- I don't understand." 

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I know I probably made you uncomfortable and I shouldn't have asked something like that out of you-" 

"No, no, Minho, you don't understand, you shouldn't apologize, I should. I’m the one who hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me. It's something out of your control, you didn't choose this." 

“Stop- just stop being so nice and understanding for a minute. I don’t deserve it!" you shout exasperated, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "You can't look me in the eyes half of the time you can't even fucking breathe in your own home. It's now a- a cemetery for our memories and it'll soon become yours too because I suck the life out of you, can't you see that?" 

"I'm not asking you to remember me,” he holds his hands up, in surrender, “I was wrong yesterday, you don't have to remember us." 

"There is no us!” you yell, hands thrown in the air, “Not anymore, Minho, maybe never."

You suck in a deep breath, shutting your eyes, willing your voice to ebb and flow into calmness. 

"I thought about it. It'll hurt less if you don't see me, time will pass and you'll get used to it, I'm not worth this."

"You are,” he interjects. “You don't get to pick for me, Yn." 

"Stop- stop talking like this is normal, stop being so complacent with your pain, Minho you shouldn't love someone who hurts you!"

"Then make me stop loving you. Spare me. Tear open my heart and bleed it dry at your feet or else it won't stop beating for you. Don't you understand? If you are near or if you are far, I will still love you. The only difference is that I'd worry more about you. I'd worry if you're eating, I'd worry if you're taking your medicine, I'd worry if you're drinking out of your favorite cup or if you have a spare shampoo in your drawer because you hate running out of it. I'd worry out of my fucking mind, Yn don't leave." 

It had been an encompassing sadness that made his true feelings surge yesterday, breaching the myriad of cracks in his heart. But today, it was fear that cast a revealing light upon his feelings, hidden in the recesses of his being. They surged forth in a transparency you were still not used to, the way the ocean throws on its shores the debris of sunken ships, allowing the grieving families of sailors to finally discover the terrible truth.

Still, his honesty, his soul bare at your mercy isn’t enough to make you stay.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just... I can't- I'm sorry."

You take three steps back, before turning your back to him and walking away. A numbness, like icy talons, seizes his limbs, his gaze fixated on your diminishing figure—carrying away everything he's ever loved. Paralysis envelopes his very essence, a haunting realization that the distance between you is more than a mere physical space. You're vanishing beyond the horizon of his reach, slipping through his desperate grasp. The fear of never seeing you again fractures the stillness, snapping Minho out of his trance.

"To love someone is firstly to confess, I'm prepared to be devastated by you." He shouts, making you pause in your tracks. "Isn't that your favorite quote, Yn? You told me this is what love is about. To place your heart in the palm of the person you love. And your hands are soft, Yn. I don't mind if I'm bruised by them." 

"I lied then!” You yell back, tears cascading down your cheeks akin to a waterfall, “Belcourt lied and I lied when I told you this and when I promised that I'd always remember you in that canopy bed-"

"What did you just say?” Minho quickly walks to you, chest heaving. “What canopy bed?"

“It doesn't matter now,” you speak in a small voice, avoiding his eyes, seeking refuge in the ground beneath. Yet, Minho, gentle and determined, cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“It matters to me, Yn, please. What do you mean?"

“We were in that white canopy bed, when I told you that my heart would always remember you.” 

“We were,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too. “Did you remember?”

“Not clearly, it was really hazy in my mind. But I remember that the windows were open, I was supposed to feel cold but… your hands on me, and they were warm. And I…” you suck in a deep breath and Minho smiles encouragingly, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek. 

“I remember feeling that I loved you,” you finally confess. “Even though I couldn’t see you. That's why I said that I'd always remember you. Because you filled every chamber in my heart, so much that it'd still hold your name even if you left it…that's how I felt.” You pause, as Minho forcibly swallows the lump down his throat. 

“But it didn't unlock any new memories and I-”

“It's okay, it’s okay. You still remembered,” he smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, plump. Were they still as warm? Still as soft? 

“I did…” you trail off. “You also kissed me, in my memory. Your lips were everywhere and… they were soft.” You add quietly, eyes fixated on his mouth, the smile that once adorned it slipping away. 

A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. In this moment, a need unfurls within you, a yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint. The memory of his lips on your skin becomes a beacon, standing tall amidst the tumultuous winds of uncertainty. You want to taste the warmth again. You want to kiss Minho.

“I kissed you.” His hands, once gentle on your cheeks, now slip down with purpose, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of both reassurance and longing.

“You did.” 

“And my lips were soft,” he repeats, his red scarf brushing against your throat. 

"They were," you respond, breathless. His mouth stands electrifyingly close, a mere hairbreadth away, as you contemplate the simple act of tilting your head, closing the tantalizing gap. All that stands between you and the echoes of the love that was is the lift of your head, a movement that could breathe life into the dormant embers of your heart.

"Yn," Minho speaks softly, his words a gentle brush against the canvas of your shared vulnerability. His minty breath tickles your nose, as you hum, a wordless acknowledgment that hangs in the air. Your eyes remain closed, your heart beating loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.

“Use me. Use me to remember.”

[seospicybin]

THE EQUATION.

Seungmin x reader x Lee Know. (s)

Synopsis: Seungmin trusts nothing but numbers and dating you slightly changes that notion until Minho comes and mess the equation. (12,1k words)

Author's note: You guys have been asking for 2min content so here it is. Hope you like x

Unlike people, numbers don't lie. Politics, poetry, promises... those are lies but numbers, they are absolute, they are tangible and they will never lie or betray him. Numbers are what they are: the truth.

And that's why Kim Seungmin prefers to work with numbers, as an analyst at an investment trust company. His job includes analyzing bonds, stocks, and other financial instruments, studying the economic data and the financial markets, and recommending investments. He spends time predicting investment returns through various modeling techniques and assessing the risk of investments.

However, there's one thing in Seungmin's life that he couldn't predict with numbers and statistics, and that is you.

First of all, Seungmin is at the peak of his career, he likes his job and he enjoys what he's doing, in other words, he's living a fulfilling life his way.

Seungmin would rather use the time to bring in billions' worth of investments than waste it on something as frivolous as dating.

That was his initial thought until he met you one random afternoon at a cafe.

It's funny that the cafe is one that he regularly visits to get his morning coffee and somehow, he needed another cup of coffee after work, and of all the possibilities, you were the one taking his order even though you're the manager, not one of the baristas.

Seungmin is not one to believe in such things as fate or destiny but he has no other way to explain it, it feels like at that moment, the universe was trying to bring him and you together.

The next thing Seungmin knows, he's been dating you for six months now, and in those six months, he learned that dating seemed frivolous to him at that time because he hadn't met the right person yet. He also learns that not everything that is not tangible or absolute and not presented in data or statistics are lie.

There are three things that Seungmin believes are true: He likes you, he's happy with you and every day, he likes you more and more thus making him happier and happier.

-

Look at him now! Seungmin gets nervous knowing that he's late for dinner at your place, his foot tapping against the floor of the elevator as it takes him up to your floor.

The second the doors slide open, he walks as fast as he can while cradling the bottle of wine in his arm and carrying his briefcase in the other hand.

Despite knowing the code to your apartment, Seungmin prefers the doorbell. He holds all of his things in one arm to free his hand and presses the doorbell to alert you that he's here, then lets out a sigh.

It isn't much about the fact that he's nineteen minutes late, he's nervous about something else and the thought of it makes his hand fly to the back of his head, getting that weird feeling as he touches his hair that is now short.

The door swings open and your face lights up the moment your eyes lie on him.

"Baby!" You squeal in joy and jump at him, welcoming him with an enthusiastic hug and almost knocking his glasses off his nose.

With the things he carries in one arm, Seungmin can only hug you back as much as he can, and a while later, you pull away and open the door wider for him.

"I have to hurry and stir the sauce," you excuse yourself as you turn around and head straight back inside.

Seungmin doesn't get the chance to apologize for his tardiness, he lets himself in and takes his coat off, then carefully puts his briefcase down on the nearest chair.

He brings the bottle of wine with him as he joins you in the kitchen, "Bought us a bottle of wine."

You briefly glance at it and delightfully exclaim, "Red wine! That's perfect!"

Then you put your focus back on the sauce in the pan, stirring it with a wooden spatula in slow, circular motions, and once it bubbles up, you turn the stove off.

"Okay, now I can properly welcome my boyfriend home," you sweetly say as you approach him with open arms.

Seungmin hurriedly puts down the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter to keep it safe and also, to properly return your hug this time.

"Hi," you mutter with a smile as you put your hands around him and drop them on his shoulders, "I miss you."

It's something else that Seungmin can't find the logical explanation for it but when he's with you, the chemistry in his body drastically changes the second you enter his radar, he feels a surge of dopamine, he feels instant comfort and his body relaxed, and the moment both of your lips collide in an explosive kiss, his heart palpation.

All of a sudden, your lips stiffen against him and you slowly pull away, then bring your hand to the nape of his neck, tangling it in his short hair.

"Wait... did you cut your hair?" You ask with a sly smile on your face.

"Yeah, I did," Seungmin answers.

You take a moment to check his new haircut and at the same time, admire how it accentuates his already perfect facial features and how the dark of his hair adds intensity to his eyes.

"Do you like it?" He shyly asks.

You drop your hands around his neck and pull him close, "I love it," you reply.

Then you lean in for another kiss, harder and deeper while steering his body until his back meets the door of the fridge. You put your whole weight, putting your body against him until your bodies mold into each other.

When he's with you, his brain stops controlling his body and his heart takes over, making the chemistry in his body want only you and you and you.

And, oh, how good it feels that he gets what he wants and you're just for him and him only.

The beeping sounds coming from the oven interrupt the moment and you immediately pull away from the kiss to get to it.

"To be continued," you tell him with a sly smile.

Curls of steam escape the oven as you open it and the mouth-watering smell wafts around in the room, evoking his appetite. You put mitts on both hands and cautiously, take the tray out of the oven, revealing the perfectly roasted chicken.

Aware that you must put a lot of effort into making dinner, Seungmin knows that he, at least, should contribute to it apart from the bottle of wine he brought.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" He asks.

You take your oven mitts off and put them away, "You can open the bottle of wine and bring the glasses to the table."

Before doing what you order, Seungmin unbutton his cuffs and folds the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow. He starts by opening the wine bottle and pulling the cork open with a loud popping sound. He then brings it to the table along with the two wine glasses he carries in one hand, he meticulously pours the wine and the aphrodisiac smell fills his nostrils as he takes a small sip at it.

The roasted chicken is just as delicious as it looked and the lemon dill sauce is just the perfect condiment, even better that the red wine complements the whole thing. It's such a simple yet heartwarming dinner, that Seungmin finds himself completely at ease and unknowingly lowering his guard down.

"...I think they miss their figures so I said let's increase by 15% because I was sure they'll strike gold with the new product line," Seungmin passionately shares a bit of his day at work.

"And I guess, you were right?" You ask before shoving a spoonful of food into your mouth.

"There was a line around the corner on the release date, I was right," he confirms with a small smile.

And when he's at ease like this, he can comfortably talk about almost anything with you and he's aware that it may bore you.

"Did I bore you?" He meekly asks.

"No," you hastily answer, placing your hand on his hand that rests on the table.

"You know I like it when you talk numbers," you add with a soft smile.

"This is really good, by the way," he says, averting the conversation to the food you cooked so incredibly.

"Glad you like it, baby," you say with a gentle squeeze on his hand.

There are no numbers or data that can tell Seungmin the reason why you like him, neither his look nor personality are that appealing and you are the opposite of that, you're beautiful and charming, you're so well-spoken, and now, you have proven that you're a good cook too.

Once again, he can't find the logical explanation to that but he's lucky to have met you.

Seungmin pours more wine into both of your glasses as you tidy up the kitchen after dinner, he sits on the sofa and waits for you to join him. You put on music through the portable speaker and the slow beat of the song softly plays in the background.

"Thank you," you say as you take the glass of wine from his hand.

The sofa fits three people but you opt to sit on Seungmin's lap, straddling him without spilling the wine in your hand. You take a small sip before putting it away on the coffee table.

"Thank you for the hearty dinner," he sincerely mutters his gratitude and he knows he has said it more than a dozen times already.

"If you're really thankful, where's my kiss then?"

Knowing that it would be a hassle, he takes his glasses off first and then puts his arms around you to draw you close. The hand that rests on the nape of your neck allows him to angle your head as he pleases and then slowly, he puts his lips on yours, conveying his gratitude through a kiss.

"Thank you," he murmurs when he breaks the kiss.

"You're very welcome," you reply.

You lay your hands on his shoulders and then glide them down his shoulder blade, feeling how broad and muscular they are. Then you bring your hands to the back of his hands, gently pulling at the short hair there.

"Did you sync your hair appointment with my menstrual cycle or something?"

Seungmin snorts at the random question, "No. Why?"

"Then why did you get a haircut when I'm ovulating, mmh?" You ask, purposely bumping your nose at his.

"No, that's not—" his words get cut off as you put a finger on his lips.

"Oh, stop playing dumb!" You tell him, putting your finger away so you can kiss him.

You kiss him hard until his head tilted to the back and he has no choice but to give in, letting your body pressed against him.

Seungmin gets light-headed from the kiss as he prioritizes kissing you back instead of breathing, and you know what? It's worth every second of it even though his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

Sensing that you both need a breather, you pull away from the kiss and slightly turn his head to the side to place kisses on his jaw.

"I think you should take responsibility for your actions," you whisper to him.

"I didn't do anything," he innocently says with a low chuckle.

His hand trails down your spine and stops on the arch of your back, his nails dug at your clothed skin as you plant searing kisses on his neck with your hot breath tickling his ear.

"I think you should put a baby in me," you softly whisper.

Not only the words secretly arousing him, it's also the way a sly smile blooms on your face after you say it, oh, he couldn't be more attracted to you!

"In this economy?" He asks with an eyebrow raised in disagreement.

"Yeah, you're right but..." You put your hands on his chest and put a space between your faces, "we can start by having unprotected sex."

He laughs at that and puts his hands on your thighs, "And risk to actually put a baby in you?"

You roll your eyes at him, sighing as your hands slump down his chest. With a deep breath, you try again in a way that intrigues him.

"If we're talking about the success rate of birth control, it's 99%," you begin your explanation.

"Yeah, but—"

You stop him from cutting you off by covering his mouth with your fingers, "Yeah, I know. I might have missed a pill or two but that only decreased the success rate to 93% which means..."

You put your hands around his neck and continue with your explanation, "There's only a 7% chance that you'll actually put a baby in me."

He glides his hands up to hold each side of your waist, "And that means 7 out of 100 pill users get actual babies in them."

"Yeah, but I'm part of the 93%," you confidently remark.

"Or you could be in the 7%," he argues.

"Uhh... I wouldn't be so sure. 7 has never been my lucky number anyway," you simply state, adding a nonchalant shrug at the end.

What you said is so out of pocket that it amuses him so much and he thinks that's why he likes you, you're unpredictable. In fact, you're the only unpredictable thing that he likes in his life.

"And maybe this will change your mind..." you say, untying your dress open and revealing enough to show the bra you're wearing underneath.

"How's that?" You adorably tilt your head to the side as you ask him.

Seungmin tries to remain calm even though he gets the urge to just rip your dress open and expose more of you to him. He looks away and stares at your face, but you're taking his hand and making him cupping your breast.

"I'm wearing it for you," you seductively say.

He's feeling the lacey fabric of your bra instead of kneading on your breast, "Yeah?"

"Uh-huh, and it comes with matching underwear too," you share, parting your dress open until it's completely off of you.

As of this moment, his self-control is being tested and he doesn't know how long until he folds. He holds his breath as his eyes travel down your body, quietly lusting at it.

You slowly bring your head close and sweetly peck his lips, "Do you like it?"

He rubs his hands up and down your sides, then looks up at you, "Yes."

"Yes, what?" You lean in closer until the tip of your nose bumps his cheek.

"I like it," he speaks so low it's almost like a whisper.

You smile at his answer and react more by pressing your lips on his lips. The more you kiss him, the more he doesn't want to let go, he just wants to keep kissing you until he runs all of the air in his body.

All of a sudden, you break the kiss with a gasp and slyly smile at him, "This is just one of my two-part plans," you tell him.

"What's the second part then?" He curiously asks with his fingertips lightly tracing your collarbone.

The sly grin on your face doesn't tell much but he knows it is something that will amuse him. You take his glasses on the coffee table and put them back on him.

"Keep your glasses on 'cause I want you to closely watch me take you in my mouth."

With his glasses on, Seungmin watches you take him into your mouth, how your luscious lips wrap around his length, and the way you swirl your slick, hot tongue around his tip. All the while, your hand takes care of the rest that you can't take into your mouth.

Don't get him started on the eyes you're giving him as half of his cock disappeared into your mouth, they're innocent and filthy at the same time, and he doesn't know how you do that but you're doing it so well.

He's sure that his hard cock shows how much he wants you and if not, well then, he just needs to take things further himself.

"Okay, fine, your two-part plan worked," he mutters with his hand tangled in your hair.

"I know," you cockily say to him.

He puts his other hand in your hair and then tilts your head to make you look at him, "Come sit on my lap!"

You obey him, pulling him out of your mouth and slowly, getting up from the carpeted floor. You take a step closer and he stops you right there.

"Just a second..." he says.

He looks up at you as you stand right in front of him, he trails his hands down the sides of your body and then tugs his fingers at the elastic band of your underwear. Without looking away from your eyes, he pulls it down your legs until it drops and pools around your ankle.

One corner of your mouth curls into a smirk as he puts his hand on the back of your knee and lifts it, resting your foot on his thigh. This position allows him to bring his mouth close to your heating core and a whimper falls out of your mouth the second his lips make contact with your tender flesh.

The glasses stay on because he knows how much you like seeing it turn foggy as he goes down on you. He doesn't need to look anyway to please you with his mouth.

He sticks his tongue out to tease your clit in a kitten lick before taking it whole in his mouth and sucking it real hard.

"Oh, baby..." you breathlessly moan as you tug at his hair in reaction to his stimulation.

Seungmin slowly lets go, he replaces his mouth with his hand, repeatedly running his fingers between your folds that your essence drenched all over them.

"Can't wait to be inside you," his voice hoarse and heavy with lust. He then retracts his hand, shoving his fingers coated with your essence, and licks them clean.

Seungmin scoots himself to the back of the sofa and then he holds his arms out at you to help you, but he lets his intrusive thoughts win, he pulls you hard until you fall on his lap.

You're giggling as you settle yourself on his lap and immediately put your hands around his shoulders, "eager, are we?"

He brings your head close for a kiss as you part his shirt open, and he briefly sits up straight so you can take it off of him. He wastes no time to put his arms around you after, drawing you close until there is no inch of gap left between your bodies.

To make it fair, he unclasps your bra and then pulls the straps down your shoulders, you do the rest by taking it off of you, letting it drop to the floor.

He likes how your breasts hang so beautifully on your chest and they look so soft, he can't help but feel them too. As he kneads on them, he can feel the ample flesh mold into his hands.

"Aren't they just perfect in your hands, mmh?" You murmur, kneading them together with his hands.

Yes, they do, he answers in his head and it makes him believe that your breasts were made just for him. He gently squeezes on them as he buries his head in between with his lips resting on your sternum.

You kiss the top of his head and cradle his head in your hands, your fingers lightly scratching the back of his head as you softly sigh, "My baby..."

Seungmin only knows how to dominate, always in control and being on top of the game but with you, he doesn't care about all that. With you, he just wants to be held and taken care of, and ultimately, loved.

Heaven really is a place on earth with you.

And he's about to enter real heaven when you slowly lower yourself on him. No rubber, no layer of protection just like you asked, it's just you and your warm velvety walls tightly wrapped around his length. Both of your lips instantly locked in a kiss again the moment he's fully buried inside you.

It's nothing like he imagined it would feel like, it's a thousand times better and when you start rocking your hips, Seungmin realizes that his self-control is going to be an issue.

As you keep pulsating your hips at a steady pace, you hold on to the back of the sofa for support and keep your face only inches away from his.

"Tell me, baby!" You murmur.

"Do I feel good, mmh?" You ask, then hastily kiss his open mouth.

You don't see him struggling, do you? Let alone able to compute words to answer your question but he hopes you can see how overwhelmed he is as you rock your hips back and forth.

"Cause you feel so good inside me, baby," you murmur into his ear.

"Oh, I can feel you all over me," you add with a hot kiss on his neck.

He roughly pulls your head close to press a kiss on your lips, grabbing a fistful of your hair in his hand as he keeps kissing you as a way to contain his grunts.

"You're close, mmh?" Your lips graze his as you speak.

There's no use to lie, he's inside you and you can feel him throbbing, wanting to shoot his load at any given time now.

"You're just too good," He simply admits, gliding his hands to your back and pulling you close.

"Are you going to cum for me then?"

"Yes," he shortly answers

"Inside me, yeah?"

He nods, pathetically.

Taking that as a confirmation, you pick up the pace, sending your breasts bouncing right in front of his face but his hands are too busy gripping each side of your waist, desperately trying to slow you down but failing.

"Mmh, yeah, cum for me, baby," you murmur before crashing your lips against him.

Surrendering himself to the need, Seungmin wraps his arms around you so tightly that your breasts are squashed between your chest. His eyes are screwed shut, his body is hot all over like someone kindle a fire inside him.

Despite his tight hold around you limiting your mobility, you maintain the pace, arching your back to provide more depth for him and add intensity to it.

"Cum, fill me, baby," you softly whisper with your lips brushing his jaw.

Seungmin is no longer in control of his body, his desire gets to him and takes him where he needs to be. The pleasure keeps on building up and up and he won't stop until he—

"Argh!" A raw groan spills out of his mouth, then he hurriedly plants his mouth on your shoulder to muffle it.

You finally slow down and hold him close, cradling his head in your chest as he relishes the waves of pleasure lapping over him.

As senses gradually come back to him, Seungmin tilts his head up and pulls you for a kiss, a kiss that feels tender and chaste, the kind that knocks your heart open.

"I love you," he blurts out.

"Oh?" You react with a perplexed gasp.

It surprises him too that he just blurted those words out, he didn't plan on saying it, heck! He didn't even think of saying it but now that the words are out, he knows that it's coming from deep within him.

"You didn't say that just because you're still inside me, right?" You playfully ask.

He innocently shakes his head but changes his mind in the next second, "Uhm... maybe? A part of it because of that," he jokingly says.

"I knew it!" You exclaim and squint your eyes at him.

He brings his hands to your shoulders and then cups your face in both hands, holding it with so much care as if you were a fragile object.

"I love you," he mutters with utmost sincerity and his heart hurts from saying those words out loud, in a good way.

"Me too," You smile and softly brush the hair curtaining his forehead, then place a soft kiss on it, "I love you."

His heart is full knowing that his feelings are being reciprocated and that makes him the happiest he's ever been, and the fact that it comes from something that is beyond him is what makes it special. He cups your jaw and kisses you so sweetly with a heart that loves you until it hurts so good.

"Seungmin," you softly call his name against his lips.

"Yes?"

"Can you put more love in me?"

"With pleasure," he gladly answers.

The music that faintly plays in the background is being replaced with the skin-slapping sounds and both of your breathy moans.

You're lying underneath him, hands gripping each side of the cushion your head resting on, eyes shut with a sheen of sweat coating your body.

"Oh, baby, yes," you moan through your gritted teeth.

Seungmin is using all of his strength, thrusting hard into you, and in each thrust, he tries to go as shallow as possible, hitting you right in the spot.

"Oh, please..." you cry and beg, sounding like you're in pain.

"Please, please, please," you beg again, but he knows that you're asking for more.

He's going impossibly fast that the sofa is creaking along to his movements but even if it breaks, he won't stop. He needs to give you your release and at the same time, he can't help himself but get the pleasure of giving it to you.

"Seungmin, please, please..." you beg again, your eyes closed so tightly that tears squeeze out of the corners of your eyes.

It's the way you're calling him so desperately and with so much neediness that drives him to keep going. He grips the handrest of the sofa as leverage and thrusts into you harder and harder that the muscles on his body are strained and his body is close to giving out.

"Seungmin, please..." you breathlessly moan again.

Yeah, that's right, he's the only one who can give it to you and he's going to give it to you just right.

A mix of a moan and a cry rips out of you as your body stiffens and then softens in the next second, overflowing with immense pleasure.

Seungmin slows his thrusting but adds intensity, he can feel it coming as well. With the way you're clenching around him, it doesn't take him long to finally cum for the second time.

He launches his cock as deep as possible to plant his seed inside you and lowers his mouth on yours to fill his need to be one with you.

It's the most intimate he's ever been with someone, it doesn't feel like physical fulfillment anymore, it's bonding, it's trust, and he believes it's what people call making love.

After a while, Seungmin lets go and slowly, pulls out of you. With your legs still spreading open, he can see how your cunt is drenched with your mixed bodily fluid and pulsating, and a while later, he can see the white of his seed dripping out of you and he can't believe how much he cum inside of you as it now drips onto the sofa. It's a highly erotic thing to watch and satisfies him in a whole new way.

"Are you sure you're not trying to put a baby in me 'cause that was..." you can barely finish your words. You brush away the hair stuck to your moist forehead and let out an exhausted sigh.

Seungmin quietly and triumphantly smiles, he hovers above you and places a long, lingering kiss on your lips. As soon as he breaks the kiss, he looks at you and says, "Well, 7 has never been my lucky number either."

-

Since his job requires him to work late almost every night, Seungmin only meets you on the weekends and he'll stay over, even if it means he has to go to work early on a Monday morning.

"Stay," you mumble with your eyes closed, not letting him stop cuddling you on the bed.

"You can sleep some more," he whispers into your ear, along with a soft kiss on your neck.

"No, stay," you mumble again, taking his arm and putting it around you.

It's always like this every Monday morning, you're not letting him go and he'll cave in, then he'll cuddle you for a few more minutes, peppering you with kisses before dragging himself out of the bed.

If he has to choose, he'd rather stay in bed with you all day but he has other responsibilities to do and it involves a lot of people, not just him.

When Seungmin returns from the shower, you're sitting on the bed with his glasses on, your eyes immediately traveling up and down his glistening wet body, but they focus on the towel that lowly hangs around his hips.

"Oh... mama!" You gasp in delight, your teeth faintly bite your lower lip.

Flustered, he hurriedly walks up to you and takes his glasses off of you, then puts them on him. He gives your cheek a soft caress and then kisses the top of your head.

"You should sleep some more," he suggests as he saunter to your closet where he keeps some of his clothes in there.

"Why would I do that when I can watch my hot, nerdy boyfriend getting dressed to save the nation's economy from collapsing?" You playfully remark, sitting on the bed while hugging your knees.

As he chooses what to wear for the day, he looks over his shoulder at you and asks, "Who's going to make coffee then?"

"Oh, yeah, right," you sigh and pout, "you only date me because of my coffee."

"That's right," he responds with a sly smile.

You get up from the bed and come up to him, slipping your arms under and around him for a hug. You place kisses on the skin on his chest, shoulder, and neck, and eventually, your lips find his.

"Wear the blue shirt," you suggest, pointing at the baby blue shirt inside the closet before turning around on your feet, and heading out of the room so he can get dressed.

The blue shirt surely looks good on him but he can't remember wearing it or bringing it to your place, also, it's a bit tight around the shoulders. He heads to the kitchen where you're busy making coffee for him.

"Are you sure this shirt is mine?" He asks in confusion.

"Of course, it's yours, you silly," you hastily answer and then put down the coffee pot to take a good look at him, "What's wrong?

Seungmin takes a seat on the stool that is pushed against the kitchen island, "It's a bit tight around the shoulders."

You deliver his cup of coffee and then run your hands through his shoulder blades, "That's because you have such sexy, broad shoulders," you whisper into his ear.

He turns his head to the side and you immediately capture his lips in a kiss. You break the kiss to place more kisses on his face and neck.

"Now, eat your breakfast, champion!" You order.

You stand there behind the kitchen island to watch him take his first sip of the coffee you make, and as expected, it's as good as the first time had a taste of it and it also brings back the memories of how he met you that night.

"How is it?"

"Perfect!" He answers with a smile.

It's never just a goodbye kiss with you, it's a full-on makeout with bodies pressed and pushed against the wall, its lips and tongue, and occasional bites in between.

Seungmin has to stop you from going in for another kiss as he still needs air to breathe. He holds you close but keeps his face a safe distance away from yours, his height helps with his.

"You have the night shift tonight," he says.

"Uh-huh."

"You better go get some sleep after this," he suggests.

"One more kiss then," you sweetly ask.

Seungmin has no power to resist you, especially when you look at him with crinkles in your eyes. It would make him a bad man if he said no to that.

"Just one," he makes a compromise.

"Just one, yes," you repeat with an eager nod.

He finds you so cute acting like a puppy like that, he has no other reason but to give you what you want. He slowly leans in and kisses you, ever so softly despite feeling like fireworks are going off inside his chest.

"I have to go," he says once he breaks the kiss.

You don't say anything but pout to him, clinging to him to let him know you don't want him to go.

"I'll see you soon, mmh?" He says with a smile and a long peck on the lips as a consolation.

That seems to cheer you up as a smile blooms on your face, you hug him close, embracing all of him before taking a step back so he can walk out of the door.

"Have a great day at work!" You say as you linger by the doorway and with a sweet smile, you let him go.

A couple of days later, Seungmin receives a call from you but it comes at a bad time, he's in a meeting and he ends up getting two missed calls from you.

You know better to not call him when he's working but it seems urgent so he goes to the office lounge to call you back.

"I'm late," you suddenly share right after you accept the call.

"Late?" He asks in confusion.

There is a pause and then you explain, "My period is late."

The moment you both decided to have unprotected sex, Seungmin prepared himself for a situation like this. He knows that other than he needs to take responsibility for it but checking in on your well-being comes on top of his priority.

"Are you okay?" He asks in slight concern.

"I'm okay," you answer.

"Do you want me to come and be with you?" He offers, even though he doubts he'll be able to do that but that's something he can deal with later.

"No, it's okay. I just..." you pause to inhale air, "I just think that you need to know."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm about to take pregnancy tests," you inform.

"Okay, well, it's better if you take two tests just in case the result is inconclusive," he carefully suggests, keeping his voice low as he's still in his workplace.

"Yeah, okay," you take in his suggestion.

"Hey, it's going to be okay?" He assures you because he knows that's what you actually seek at this moment, an assurance that things are going to be alright no matter what.

"I know," you meekly say.

"I love you," he says because he has nothing else to show you how much he cares and loves you, and he can hear you smiling at the end of the line.

"I love you too," you say with a slight cheery tone.

The two of you let those words hang in the air and let that be the only thing that exists in this dire moment.

After a moment, you sigh into the phone and say, "Well, I'm going to pee on these pregnancy tests and will tell you about the results."

"I'll look forward to it," he playfully responds.

It's normal for him to feel nervous about the results but surprisingly, he doesn't feel scared at all. If anything, it makes him start thinking about his future with you, and if you turned out to be pregnant then it simply means he'd have another part of you that he can love.

That's all he can think about at work, not numbers or statistics, but how wonderful it would be to build a family with you.

As he's deep in his thoughts, his phone vibrates on his desk. He turns it over to check and fumbles on his seat when he notices that it's multiple new texts from you.

"Guess what?" You wrote on the first text, and below it a picture of the pregnancy tests and both showing negative results.

"Told you, seven has never been my lucky number," you wrote in the following text with a smiling emoji.

It's a good thing that you don't call or you would hear the slight disappointment in his voice, but at the same time, he feels a sort of relief. Well, this only means that Seungmin only needs to postpone his plan on building a family with you.

"That damn seven percent," he jokingly wrote in his reply to you.

As a sort of joke, Seungmin decided to get off work early, and bought flowers along with a card he personally wrote on it that says, "Congratulations on being in the 93%!"

He knows you're having night shift for the whole week so the plan is to catch you right on the closing time and surprise you with the flowers.

Seungmin is not big on grand, romantic gestures like this but it shouldn't be something he should be ashamed of doing. It's all about the intention and he believes that the thing earlier was quite a shock to you so his intention is purely to brighten up your day and hopefully, make you feel better.

The taxi pulls up at the side of the street across the cafe, he can see that he comes right on time as you're locking up the place. He has to walk a little further to the crosswalk while carrying the flowers in one hand. He's watching as you lock up the café and pulling at the door to make sure it's completely locked.

As you hoist the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, you turn around on your feet and Seungmin hurriedly waves his hand your way even though it's doubtful that you'll see him.

However, your face lights up like you usually do whenever you see him, your eyes sparkle, and a radiant smile. His heart is pounding as he starts to eagerly wave his hand at you only to find out that you're looking at someone else.

A guy comes out of the car parked right outside the café and you walk up to him, not stopping him as he hugs you. It's not just a friendly hug, the guy holds you close and lifts you off the ground for a moment, sending you giggling with your head bumping close to him.

Seungmin unconsciously follows the crowd crossing the street and when he finally gets to the side of the street, he sees that the two of you are kissing, lips locked with arms around each other.

He takes slow, hesitant steps toward you to see if it's really you and you're aware that you're kissing someone that is not him. He stops on his track as the guy spins you to the side and you open your eyes to see him standing there.

In that moment, your eyes meet and the expression on your face significantly turns into a panic one. From the look of it, it finally registered to him that you're fully aware of what you're doing.

"What is this?" He asks in utter confusion at you.

You immediately push the guy you've just kissed to approach him, "Seungmin, I can explain!" You say.

There's nothing to explain when he saw everything with his own eyes, unless you think he's blind or losing his mind, that's the only explanation he needed.

You walk toward him in such caution like approaching a wild animal, "Seungmin, please, wait, I can—"

But he's no longer looking at you, he's looking at the other guy and how flippant he is at this whole situation. He's mad beyond belief and before he obliterates everything around him, he turns around on his feet to leave.

"Seungmin!" You call his name out loud and he can hear you break into tears after.

"Fuck this," He mutters out of spite, tossing the flowers into the trash bin. He ignores your desperate calls and keeps walking away, not looking back.

-

Men lie, women lie, and numbers, after all, can be manipulated which makes it a lie. In other words, everything is a lie.

Even Seungmin is lying to himself, he pretends that he's alright even though the truth is he's far from alright. He can't believe that a week ago he thought of building a family with someone he's only known for six months, six fucking months and you turned out to be cheating on him.

The only thing that he believes in is this anger he feels whenever he thinks of you and it's more infuriating that he can't find the outlet for it. It seems like he has to keep it in until he dies.

His phone vibrates on his desk and he hates that his heart gets hopeful, thinking that it's a text from you when the truth is you stopped contacting him two days ago and he knows it's because he didn't respond to any of them, but deep down, he hopes it's you.

Full of anticipation, he checks his phone and sees that he has received a series of texts from an unknown number. It's probably work-related texts so he ignores it for a while until the curiosity wins over him.

"So, you're the other boyfriend," is what is written in the text.

"Who is this?" He quickly replies.

"It's Minho. The boyfriend," he writes along with multiple pictures of you and him.

If his goal is to make him jealous, he's succeeded at that and now that the goal is achieved, what else there is?

"What do you want?" Seungmin gets defensive.

"Does this mean you give her up, huh?"

It's not giving you up when he decides to break up with you after finding out that you cheated on him. Before Seungmin can compose a reply to that, a new text appears.

"I'm the better man anyway," Minho writes and he knows he does it to provoke him.

What a shame that Seungmin is not triggered and decides not to stoop to his level. Minho is free to think that he gives you up or he's a better man than him, Seungmin doesn't care at all!

However, his ignorance only lasts for a couple of days until Minho comes up with a text that has one clear purpose and that is to light Seungmin's short fuse.

"Come and watch me fuck her better than you did?" Minho wrote on the text along with a video of you, lying naked on the bed with his hand going all over you.

As if that isn't enough, Minho sends another video and Seungmin knows better not to open it but he does anyway. The next video is of him filming himself fucking you through the mirror that he knows for sure is in your bedroom and he can hear your moans in the background.

"Did you say something?" Minho asks as he turns the camera to you.

"Please!" You say.

"Please, what?"

"Please, Minho, I want to cum," you plead with your eyes red and teary.

With the rage that blinds him and jealousy that burns him from the inside, Seungmin rides in the back of the taxi in the middle of the night with both hands balled into fists on his lap and his chest heaving in anger on the way to your place.

He skips on the knocking on the door and punches the passcode into your place, letting himself in. A while later, you come to the door, looking unruly but fully dressed, it looks like he's just disturbed your slumber instead of catching you sleeping with another guy.

"Seungmin," you say his name in a mix of confusion and surprise.

Seungmin would be lying if he didn't miss hearing you call his name but he reminds himself he's not here for that, he came here for something else.

"Where is he?" He asks as he walks past you. He starts looking for him in every room in your apartment while you're trailing behind him.

"Who?" You ask in utter confusion.

"Your boyfriend," he simply answers, pushing the door to your bedroom and seeing that no one is on the bed except for a messy pile of duvet.

"He's not here and I haven't seen him in a week," you tell him.

He avoids looking into your eyes and walks up to the bathroom, pushing the door open with his hand only to reveal that you're telling the truth.

"Why? Isn't he your boyfriend? Shouldn't you with him?" He asks you, going out of the bedroom to check the laundry room near the kitchen.

"Because I needed the space. I got heartbroken when you broke up with me," you meekly answer.

Maybe he was foolish for not knowing you lied behind his back but how dare you lie right to his face now? Seungmin stops looking and turns around to look at you, he scoffs in exaggeration.

"Don't lie to me," he says to you with a sarcastic smile.

"I'm not. I am still devastated that we broke up," you genuinely admit with tears pooling in your eyes.

Hearing someone enter the passcode to your door, you hurriedly wipe your eyes before the tears roll down your cheeks and head to the door to check who is it.

"Minho, what are you—" You can't barely finish your sentence as he presses a kiss on your lips.

"Minho, this is not a good time," you say to him, but he walks further inside while holding your hand.

Without having to look, Seungmin knows that it's the man he's looking for and he realizes Minho was never here, he sent all those videos just to trap him and he fell right into it.

"You came, huh?" Minho says to him with a faint smirk on his face.

That is enough to trigger Seungmin, he takes a step forward and closes the gap between their bodies, "What's your problem?"

You immediately get in between and push them away from each other until there's a safe distance between them, "Minho, please, don't!"

"I don't know why I'm here," Seungmin mutters, pushing his way in the direction of the door.

You block the way and take both of his hands, "No, Seungmin, please, stay!" You beg with pleading eyes.

"Nah, babe, just let him go!" Minho says with a rather mocking tone at Seungmin while leaning the side of his body against the wall.

"You both stay!" You tell both of them, dragging Seungmin back inside and making him sit on the sofa. You glare at Minho next, gesturing him to also sit on the sofa, and with a sigh, he obeys to your order.

They're sitting so far apart from each other and you know Minho is the one who made Seungmin come here, but the damage has been done, you may as well use this opportunity to talk to both of them.

"Now that you're both here, let me explain everything," you say, standing right in front of them.

"I don't need your explanation," Seungmin says without looking at you.

"Seungmin, please!" You beg again.

"The door is right there!" Minho casually says to him.

You know Minho is going to be the problem so you glare at him, "Minho, please?" You say in a rather threatening tone instead of pleading.

"I'm not going to stop you from leaving but please hear me first," you try again while clasping your hands together in front of you.

Seungmin refuses to look at you but he stays in his seat and that's enough, he only needs to hear your part of the story anyway.

"Yes, I'm dating the two of you at the same time," you admit right away and that seems to intrigue Seungmin that he glances your way.

"But I wouldn't call it cheating," you continue and Seungmin looks away again, "Even if that's the case, it only means that I'm cheating on Minho with you."

"What do you mean by that? You're dating him behind my back," Seungmin says with a lot of resentment in his voice.

"Minho knows everything," you reveal, "We've been dating for three years way before I met you."

"Yes, and she told me everything," Minho adds with a wicked smile on his face.

It feels as if the two of you are playing him and he feels stupid for being the joke in this narrative. Seungmin looks at you and then at Minho with a revolted look on his face, "What is this sick game are you playing here?"

You take a step closer to him and slightly bend down to make him look at you, "Seungmin, I swear this is not a game. Our relationship is real and so is my relationship with Minho, we're—"

This is where Seungmin loses it. He's not familiar with this equation. You're dating him but also dating Minho. How can one person date two people at once? And is that even possible? Since when 1+1+1 is two? His brain just can't comprehend it.

"You cheated on me," he says and that's the only statement he firmly stands on, he doesn't care who dates who first and how many relationships you have other than with him.

You take a moment to inhale air and try again, "Seungmin, trust me when I say I never lied to you. I love you and you know that's true," you calmly tell him.

"But you did lie to me about your relationship with him," Seungmin

"Because I don't want to lose you," you hastily respond with the harsh truth.

A moment passes in silence as Seungmin processes your words and you're right, he would have left you a long time ago and the relationship wouldn't last this long.

"I know this is hard to understand but I love you, Seungmin, and I love him too," you say as you point at Minho.

You rake your hair to the back and come up to them, kneeling in front of them as you grab their hands in each of your hands.

"And I know how selfish and greedy I sound but I want you both in my life," you finish with a sad smile.

Minho brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, "You know you'll always have me," he says.

You softly smile at him, "Thank you, Minho."

The ball is in Seungmin's court now and you look at him with hopeful eyes, even though the chance that he'll agree to this is slim, close to zero percent.

"Seungmin..." your voice lowers as a second passes without an answer from him.

All of a sudden, he takes his hand away from your hold and in that moment, you tell yourself that, at least, you've tried your best to make him stay and if he still chooses to go, then you have to let him go.

Seungmin's hand cups your cheek and he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. To your surprise, he smiles and then slowly presses a kiss on your lips.

"You know that I love you too."

-

Since they're all and they both agreed on being in this relationship, you figure this is the chance to put it to a test and see if they can learn how to share.

Minho places a kiss on your shoulder as his hands busy unclasping your bra, he places another kiss on your neck and turns your head to the side so he can kiss your lips.

"It's off," he mutters as the bra is completely off your arms.

You peck his lips and smile, "Thank you, baby."

Minho has no problem adjusting himself to this but Seungmin looks a little lost that you have to keep him close and at times, you have to actively tell him what to do.

As you sit on the edge of the bed, you take his hands and pull him close. Giving him a long peck on the lips before asking him, "Are you nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," Seungmin puts his hands on each side of your waist and places a peck on your lips, "I just wish he's not here."

You chuckle at that and put your hands on his square shoulders, "at first, I thought Minho would be the one having problems sharing," you poke fun at him.

"I can share," he hastily responds, he quietly clocking Minho who's getting undressed in one corner of the bedroom, "Just not with him."

"Can you please try? For me?" You sweetly plead, along with multiple kisses planted on his lips, "Mmh?"

Seungmin knows that he has no other option but to share you, he accepts it with a sigh, "Okay."

"Thank you, baby," you softly mutter, bringing his head close so you can kiss him hard and deep.

The kiss lasts for a few minutes and you eventually break the kiss, gasping for air the second your lips detached. You get on all fours on the bed and take his cock in your hand, slowly stroking it before taking it into your mouth.

You maintain eye contact with Seungmin as your mouth is full of him, alternating between sucking and licking, combining it with your hand pumping the base of his cock.

Seungmin gathers all of your hair to the back and forms a makeshift ponytail with his hand to keep all of your hair away so he can see his cock slipping in and out of you.

Behind you, you feel Minho's hand on the arch of your back and it's gliding down to the curve of your rear, he doesn't hesitate to knead the flesh until it molds into his hand.

Next, he replaces his hand with his mouth, sucking on the ample flesh of your ass cheek hard enough that you believe it would leave a mark.

Your focus starts to shatter as Minho plants his mouth on your heating core, he keeps your ass cheeks parted open so he can plant his mouth deeper in your wetness.

His slick tongue teases your entrance and at the same time, his hand snakes its way to the front to play with your clit, pinching for added stimulations.

You're moaning with Seungmin's cock in your mouth and somehow, the vibration adds pleasure to him as he hand tugs harder at your hair.

It goes on for long until you deem it's enough or else you'll get too overwhelmed to continue. You slowly pull Seungmin's cock out of your mouth, ignoring how your saliva coated his length and dribbling down your mouth. Minho catches you from the back, holding you as you sit on the bed and spread your legs open for Seungmin.

"Go ahead. You can have the first turn," Minho says to Seungmin, always in a tone that borderline mocking him.

You land a hard slap on Minho's arm, "Be good!" You warn him.

"Sorry, honey," Minho apologizes to you along with a kiss instead at him.

However, Seungmin does a good job of pretending like Minho wasn't there, he crawls over to you to place a kiss on your lips before settling himself between your legs. He rubs his fingers between your folds, softly as if he's touching flowers.

He's going to keep pretending like Minho wasn't there and fully enjoying this moment. It's not hard when your body always entices him, endlessly arousing him and inviting him to touch.

With another kiss on your lips, Seungmin slowly pushes inside. He pulls out only to push deeper into you and do it a few times more until he's fully sheathed in your tight walls.

"Mmh, yeah..." you moan with eyes closed, "So good inside me."

He lets himself explore your body with his hands then with his lips next, marking your skin with searing kisses to finally start thrusting into you.

Minho slowly lays you down but keeps his eyes and hands on you, touching you and cupping your breasts as they're jiggling along to Seungmin's slow yet steady thrusts.

He stands on the side of the bed facing you, pumping his cock as he's watching you being fucked by Seungmin, and eventually, brings his eyes back to you.

Using the tip of his cock, he rubs your erect nipples, wetting them with his precum and making you squeeze his cock between your breasts.

"Oh..." you loudly moan, taking every stimulation on every inch of your body from the two men.

The wild glints in his eyes scare you and excite you at once. You're tilting your head his way with your mouth wide open.

"You want it in your mouth?" He says as he pumps his cock so close to your face.

You bite your lips, nodding.

Instead of giving you what you want, he shoves his thumb into your mouth and watches as you suck hard on it before finally putting his cock into your mouth. He grabs the hair on the back of your head, keeping your head still as he drags his cock in and out of your mouth.

"You like that, huh?" Minho says as he looks down at you.

"You like having your greedy holes filled, huh?" He pulls out of you to give you a chance to answer.

"Yeah," you breathlessly answer with your lips wet with saliva.

"You hear that? She likes her greedy holes filled!" Minho says to Seungmin with a wicked grin plastered on his face.

Seungmin is too high on pleasure to care, having sex without protection is still new to him and he still needs a few practices to finally have some self-control doing it.

With your mouth full of Minho, your noises can no longer be his guide on pleasing you but he can tell from the way you're tightening around him. He needs a release as much as you do but he holds it in until he knows for sure you have climaxed.

Minho probably senses that you're so close, that he pulls out of you and offers his hands for you to hold on to. Your chest is heaving and moans are spilling out of your mouth.

"Seungmin, oh, please!"

There you go with your begging and pleading, and it's amazing that it still works on him, hearing you calling his name in such neediness gets him off.

When you finally reach your high, you pull your knees up as high as you can which provides him more depth and tightness that gets him closer to his release.

A few more thrusts are all it takes for Seungmin to reach his high. He keeps his cock deep inside you as he releases all of his seed. His hands are pressing on the back of your thighs with nails dug into the flesh.

Still gathering his senses, Seungmin searches for your lips and when they finally meet yours, he kisses you so hard that he runs out of the air in his lungs.

"So good, baby, that was so good," you mutter to him with half-shut eyes.

Seungmin climbs onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard while you're lying on your stomach in between his legs. You're both riding down your highs with some kisses and cuddles until Minho seeks your attention.

He pulls you by the waist, taking you away as you're about to lean in to kiss Seungmin. You laugh at his childish behavior and look over your shoulder at him.

"I'm not going anywhere," you jokingly mutter at him.

Minho holds you close and lets Seungmin watch as he runs his hands all over you as if he is trying to show him how to properly touch you.

He makes a trail of kisses from your neck and then down your spine, forcing you to bend down on the bed on all fours for him.

"Ouw!" You yelp as he lands a slap on your ass cheek.

Seungmin reflexively holds you by the shoulders, thinking it is something that he's doing that hurts you.

Minho lands another slap on the other cheek harder than the sound echoing in the room and sends you launching to the front.

"Fuck, your other boyfriend cum a lot," Minho complains with his fingers lightly circling your clit.

You shake your head at Seungmin, gesturing him not to take his bait, and bring your mouth to his ear to whisper, "I like it when you cum a lot inside me."

Seungmin holds the side of your head and kisses you, but Minho slaps your asscheek again to get your attention back to him.

"Let's hope he left some room for me to fill," Minho says, putting two digits into your gushing hole to prepare you for his cock.

"Don't be so dramatic, Minho," you poke fun at him.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you hard until your back hits his chest. He buries his head in your neck, placing ticklish kisses down the column on your neck while his hands are fondling your breasts.

"It's your turn to not be dramatic," he mutters into your ear as he aligns his cock to your entrance.

"How can I not be?" You say to him.

Without warning, he enters you, pushing his swollen member in little by little. His hands gripping your hips to keep you still as he keeps pushing in until he's fully buried inside you.

"Honey, oh..." you moan as you grope for his head, turning it to the side so you can kiss him.

"I know," he seductively murmurs into your ear, "You feel so good around me too."

As Minho starts thrusting into you, you get back on your fours again and share some of your attention with Seungmin. You crash your lips against him and take his hand, making him cupping your breast.

He affectionately brushes your hair to the side and holds it there before leaning in for a kiss again, kissing your parted mouth as you moan from Minho's thrusts.

"I'm cumming, oh, I'm cumming," you whine as your fingers claw at Seungmin's chest.

Minho keeps chasing his high and riding past your orgasm, sending you into overdrive. Your eyes are fluttering shut from the immense pleasure but Seungmin holds you steady and tirelessly placing kisses on the skin he can land his lips on.

"Just a little bit more," Minho says through his gritted teeth while keeping the motion of his hips going.

You're fisting the sheet underneath you and eventually collapse onto Seungmin's chest and letting him hold you as Minho finishes inside of you.

Minho lowers his body on you, planting kisses on your back and your neck, he then buries his head in your neck as the three of you snuggle on the bed, exhausted yet content with pleasure.

With your eyes barely open, you reach for Seungmin's jaw and kiss him, then turn your head to the side to capture Minho's lips in a kiss afterward.

And you think, it wasn't bad at all for a first practice.

-

The bed shifts as Minho props his elbow against the mattress, you're holding his arm close to your chest so he plants a long kiss on your shoulder before slowly, taking his hand away from around you.

He checks his phone for the time and he kind of already guessed that he should get ready for the day, he has a plane to catch.

He quietly makes his way to the bathroom to wash up and quietly gets dressed in the dark of the room, not wanting to wake the others sleeping in the room.

He helps himself for a quick breakfast in your kitchen, opening the fridge to get a carton of milk and it almost startles him to see Seungmin standing by the doorway of your room with his hair sticking up and his glasses perching slightly askew on his nose.

"Man, you look really good in the morning," he sarcastically says as he takes a box of cereal from the top cabinet.

Seungmin brushes his hair to the back and fixes his glasses, traipsing his way to one of the stools pushed against the kitchen island.

"I believe we have to talk," he says to him in his morning, deep voice.

Minho gathers a bowl and a spoon on the kitchen island. He repeatedly nods as he pours cereal into the bowl first and then pours the milk after.

"That's actually great because you haven't heard my part of the story yet," Minho finally responds to Seungmin.

He takes a spoonful of cereal and shoves it into his mouth, making Seungmin wait as he chews and swallows his food to speak again.

"I'm away a lot for work. I hate to see her feeling lonely and sad. I don't want to break up with her and so is she. I was the one who came up with the idea," he explains, taking another spoonful of cereal and making Seungmin wait again, "I told her to find another boyfriend."

Minho then rests his hands on the counter and leans forward, taking a moment to gather his thoughts in the silence that hangs in the room.

"When she told me about you, I was scared because I kind of set her up for heartbreak by coming up with that idea but she stopped feeling lonely and sad. I can also see that she's... happier," he shares, digging his spoon into the bowl, and with a sad chuckle he continues talking, "I even started to think that maybe she doesn't love me anymore."

It only occurs to Seungmin now that Minho did all that not for himself, he wouldn't bother texting him and sending him all those videos if his intention was only to provoke him. He did all that to force him to come and meet you, he did all that for you which makes Seungmin the bigger asshole in this.

Minho drinks the milk straight out of the bowl and then roughly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, "What I'm saying is... I just want her to be happy. That's all," he finishes.

This concept of relationship is so new and foreign to Seungmin that at first, he finds it hard to make it make sense but after hearing both sides of the story, it isn't as complicated as he initially thought. After all, a relationship is a state of being connected whether it's people or objects or even concepts.

But it's nice to hear that despite his snarky remarks and flippant attitude, Minho is not afraid to be transparent about his feelings and thoughts, and Seungmin respects him for that.

On the other hand, it convinces Seungmin that this relationship would work because the three individuals are mature and have no intention of hiding things from each other anymore.

"I just want her to be happy too even if it means I have to endure your... attitude," Seungmin enunciates the last word with a sneer.

Minho scoffs and chuckles at that, finishing the bowl of cereal by draining the milk to its last drop.

"So how are we going to do this?" Seungmin asks in genuine curiosity.

"Well... we'll arrange something," Minho vaguely says, putting the dirty dishes down in the sink.

Minho returns to the bedroom to retrieve his jacket, he's sitting on the edge of the bed and places his hand on your shoulder, trying to wake you up with a gentle kiss on your lips and continues placing kisses all over your face until you steer in your sleep.

"Hey, I have to go," He softly mutters with a tender caress on your cheek.

You rub your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, "Already?" You ask with a sleepy tone.

"My flight is in three hours," he informs while putting away the hairs from covering your face.

You pout and hum in complaint, stretching your arms out before putting them around his shoulders, pulling him close until he collapses on top of you.

"When will you come back?"

"Next Friday," he answers.

"Mmh, okay," you mumble, holding his face inches away from yours and giving him a long peck on the lips.

To give him a proper goodbye, you get up and put on any piece of clothing lying next to you. You walk Minho to the door for another hug and kiss while Seungmin sits in the kitchen, giving this moment just for the two of you.

"Stay safe. Take care," you tell him as you cling to his body.

Minho places ticklish kisses on your neck, sending you giggling as he holds you tightly. He eventually stops to press a long, lingering kiss on your lips.

"I'm going, okay?"

You nod and fondly gaze at him, "I love you."

He smiles at that and plants another lingering kiss on you, "I love you."

It's not the first time that he's leaving you to go away for work, but somehow, this time feels different, he feels a little relieved that he has someone he can trust to keep you safe.

"I'll be back soon," Minho mutters with a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You're lingering by the doorway, watching him leave until he goes inside the elevator and then go back inside. You're aware that Seungmin is there and you've been neglecting him the whole time you're saying goodbye to Minho.

You smile as you walk into the kitchen and see him still sitting there against the kitchen island, "I'll make us coffee," you announce.

"Okay," Seungmin shortly says with a soft smile.

You start by filling the pot with water and putting it on the stove, and as you wait for it to boil, you scoop some coffee beans to grind.

All of a sudden, you feel a pair of arms wrapped around you and you don't have to look to know it's Seungmin.

"Does it make you happy?" He asks out of the blue.

"What? Making coffee for you?" You jokingly ask even though you know the context of that question.

You put down whatever you're holding and turn around on your feet to face him, resting your hands on his chest as you look up at him and say, "I'm happy."

"Then I'm happy," he says with a smile, leaning in to softly kiss your lips.

The kiss brings back so many things, both the good and bad things you've shared, but ultimately him. The break-up was the worst part of it but now that he's back with you, you feel happier than ever.

"I love you, Seungmin," you tell him, sliding your hand up to his neck and holding him there, "I'll never let you break up with me again."

He puts his arms around and draws you closer, "I won't."

"Good, 'cause I don't know what a menacing man like Minho would do to you if that happened," you jokingly say.

In the end, Seungmin doesn't need numbers or data or statistics, he only needs to learn from his mistakes and as much as he hates his guts, he also needs to learn a few things from Minho and one of them is being a good boyfriend to you.

The white curls of steam escape the cup of coffee as you serve it on the table in front of him, the strong smell of it awakens all of his senses.

"Thank you," he mutters his gratitude with a smile that makes his eyes smaller and offers warmth.

You watch as he takes a careful sip at it with a hand propped under your chin, "How is it?"

He puts down his cup of coffee and smiles at you, "It's perfect."

As of this moment, Seungmin will only look at you as someone he loves and wishes to always be happy, and he'll think of himself not merely as a part of the equation but as what completes the equation.

-

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[stayinlimbo]

hotel check-ins

pairing: idol!lee minho x f!reader genre: established relationship, fluff requested?: yes warnings: cuteness, slight suggestiveness towards the end, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, lowercase intended word count: 1.0k note: (did i add three different lee know pics because i don't know how to find three from the same shoot...maybe). thank you @starfire21 for the request. i hope i did it justice. now playing - billie bossa nova ♡

as the girlfriend of a kpop idol, you’ve become somewhat of a pro at navigating security.

badge check? easy. safety briefing? lightwork (no reaction). being inconspicuous? you got a couple side-eyes from the hotel receptionists at the sunglasses and mask obscuring your face, but it’s nothing you haven’t handled before. 

the only trouble you had was using the codename minho texted you after the concert to obtain his suite number from the front desk. in fact, it’s the first thing you gripe about after your boyfriend whisks you inside the room the two of you will reside in for the night.

“really? ‘lee jisung?’ who chose that?”

“i did.”

“shocker.”

“i know. i wanted ‘lee know is cute’ but they said no,” minho replies casually, a smile illuminating his face.

the sigh you let out is mostly for show at this point, in contrast to the no longer suppressed grin you display in return. you can’t even pretend to be annoyed at the man who tugged you through the doorway after a singular knock. 

minho’s hand still gently holds your wrist, and he uses this to his advantage to pull you closer to him. a synchronized “oof” leaves both of your lips as you collide into his chest, taken aback by his unexpected strength. light laughter fills the otherwise silent room as you settle into a familiar embrace. 

his arms traverse to your waist, guiding your body to nestle further against his. wrapping your arms around his neck, you rest your cheek on his collarbone, tilting your head slightly to press a tender kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

the scent of minho’s shampoo fills your senses as your hand roams through his semi-dry hair. from this angle, you can tell that his stage makeup has been carefully wiped off for the night, revealing the small, beautiful imperfections you love oh so much. 

“i missed you,” you mumble, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“i missed you too” minho breathes, squeezing your frame tighter, “the door was unlocked, you know? you could’ve just walked in.”

“aw, poor baby,” you coo teasingly, pulling back slightly to face him, “it must’ve been torture to be without me for so long.”

“you say that as if it wasn’t the same for you,” he retorts lightly, moving his hands to rest on your hips. you can’t help the laughter that escapes you as he gently shakes you in place in retaliation. as if you would ever feel otherwise.

you reach up to pinch his cheek, smile growing even wider at his feigned disgruntled expression fighting (and losing) against the tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“stay would be so jealous right now if they knew about this,” you say once you’ve calmed down enough. 

“about what?” 

“this side of you.”

the small, genuine smile adorning his face at your words. the light dusting of blush across his cheeks that reaches the tips of his ears. the post-concert afterglow still lingering on his expression, eyes flickering over your features ever so slightly more than normal. the way he tries to act nonchalant as he brings his face closer to yours.

the side only you get to see.

“mm, too bad for them then,” minho whispers. his breath intertwines with yours at his proximity, stopping a breadth away from your mouth. just a little closer. “i’m yours.”

“yeah, you’re mine,” you murmur, moving forward to close the distance between your lips.

small chimes emitting from his pajama short’s pocket compel you to plant a tiny peck on the corner of his mouth instead, slowly pulling away as he attempts to chase your lips. 

“aren't you going to check that, min?” you ask, chuckling at his soft protests from the denied affection. 

a cute pout forms on his face, accompanied by furrowed brows, as one of his hands releases your hip to dig his phone out of his pocket. your thumb brushes over his cheekbone as he stares at the phone before turning it off and tossing the small device over his shoulder. quiet thuds echo around the room as it lands and bounces on the hotel bed.

wait. what?

“min–”

your words are interrupted by minho’s soft, moisturized lips enveloping your own. your eyes flutter shut as he allows you to take the lead, slowly brushing your lips against his, savoring the taste of fresh mint on his tongue. minho deepens the kiss, grabbing your palm cradling his cheek and holding it flat against his chest, right above his heart—where you always reside. 

minho’s pupils are blown out when you pull away for air, which you have no doubt mirrors your own. heavy breaths mingle together as you both try to regain composure. his heart beats widely beneath your touch and you’re unable to resist the heat spreading across your cheeks at the effect you have on him.  

“could that have been important?” you question, glancing over at the phone resting behind him. 

“maybe,” minho shugs. his eyes trail back down to your lips, drawing you in again for a heated kiss. “not more important than you though.”

his heart still pulses erratically under the press of your hand. you meet his half-lidded gaze with a smile, letting your eyes wander across his slightly swollen lips and flushed cheeks. you push the bangs that fell into his face out of his eyes, giving a teasing kiss to the tip of his nose.             

well played.

“i take it you still have energy leftover?” you smirk, already knowing the answer. “need any help with that?”

minho’s eyes widen, his grasp on your hips tightening as a shiver runs down his spine. you didn’t think his heart could beat any faster.

“the walls aren’t soundproof. chan will break down the door.” 

“maybe you should go lock it then.”

minho’s never moved faster in his life. 

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺

bonus: (“should i call you lee jisung now?”

“please don’t.”)

bonus 2: (“how’d you know the rooms aren’t sound proof?”

“felix brought his gaming pc.”

“oh.”)

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taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

[skzdarlings]

02. sharing a bed series ; skz ; lee know

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 2/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN.

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pairing: lee know/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. reader&minho had an argument. reader gets pussy eaten. minho likes to tease.

inspired by the cinematic masterpiece known to the world as lee know log 9, aka that vlog where minho went camping and i never recovered.

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There is a perpetual hum around the campsite, heaters and lamps and cookers buzzing through the night, plus the rain has started coming down harder.  Its restless patter over the tarp of the luxury tent is more a nuisance than relaxing. 

The noise is not why you are still awake.   Your insomnia is the cause of good old-fashioned guilt. 

You and Minho lost your reservation thanks to some traffic delays and the campsite only had single-bed tents available by the time you arrived.  You have been sharing a bed all weekend, but right now you are alone.  Minho stormed out an hour ago, claiming he needed a walk to clear his head after your argument.

The argument you started. 

All weekend, you’ve been testing Minho’s seemingly infallible patience.  Minho might joke around sharply, but he’s a secret softy and it’s hard to get him genuinely angry.  You could feel yourself being a ridiculous ass but, like everything else of late, it felt out of control.  You were like a third party watching your own stupid argument, unable to stop yourself and unable to help him.  He was the mature one, leaving to find some space.

Even if it was after calling you ridiculous and uptight.      

You didn’t cry.  You didn’t let yourself cry.  Maybe you can’t control anything else, but you can control that. 

Now, you just lay in bed and listen to the rain.  You can’t sleep anyway, so you leave the lights on for Minho.   The rain is coming down pretty hard.  You hope he gets back soon.   Much as you don’t want to face him, you are worried about him. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, the tent opens and Minho stomps inside.  He is wearing a backwards hat and a hoodie, neither of which did much to protect him from the downpour.  You look over your shoulder at him, watching him shake himself out.   The wet hat comes off and hits the ground with a slap, the hoodie following.  It leaves him shivering in a t-shirt and shorts, his jaw clenched. 

He turns abruptly, looking right at you.  There is so much intensity in his gaze as he stares at you, slicking his wet hair back.   An unbidden spark of heat bursts inside you.   I want him to look at me like that when he fucks me, you think.  The thought makes you whip away to stare at the white tent wall.  Your heart pounds.   That pounding intensifies when Minho struts up to bed, crossing the space in a few quick strides.  You don’t dare turn around, clutching the blankets and staring at the wall.

He turns off the lights.  Then you hear him leave, disappearing into the small bathroom joined to your tent. 

You exhale.  It takes a while to come down from the burst of adrenaline, but it has mostly dwindled by the time Minho returns.  You hear him moving about in the dark.  You lay straight as a board, your back to him. 

You stare through the dark at nothing.  You know you should apologize for earlier but you can’t bring yourself to speak.   You just breathe. 

Minho climbs into the bed.  It dips under his weight and you feel a flood of warmth from his company.  He has toweled himself dry and changed into sweatpants and a dry t-shirt.  He smells fresh and clean, and just a little woodsy. The bed is not very big so he bumps you as he lays down.  It makes your heart race again, which just makes you cringe. 

The rain has slowed.  It still patters against the roof of the tent, but gently.  

The quiet makes the silence between you even more tense.  It feels heavier than the blankets, dense and suffocating.   You swallow. 

The argument was your fault.  Everything that went wrong this weekend was your fault.  You’ve been on edge and quick to overreaction, uncharacteristic to your usual composure.  You could tell it was worrying Minho but he has never been the type to pry.  No, he waits until he is asked, which would be great if you knew how to ask.  Hug me, hold me, help me.   You don’t know how to ask for the things you want.   So you just continued to spiral, taking it out on him.  

It should be you turning around, you facing him, you apologizing, but it’s Minho who rolls over.  You freeze when he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight from behind.   He doesn’t quite kiss your shoulder, but he presses his face there for a second.  Wisps of his dyed blonde hair tickle your face.  You can imagine his eyes closing when he sighs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I shouldn’t have said that shit.  I don’t even know why we were fighting.  Just call it my fault, okay?  I shouldn’t have taken a city girl camping.”   

He is trying to joke with you.  His friendliness is what gets you.  Even after everything, he is still so good to you.   

You put a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sound when you start crying.  It’s a useless effort because your shoulders shake and Minho can feel it.  Resigned to your pitiful state, you let your gasps shudder out of you. 

“Hey, hey,” he says, rolling you onto your back.  He wipes his thumbs over your wet cheeks, staring down at you with his brow furrowed in confusion.  “I was just kidding.  I’m sorry.  Take a free slap.”  He grabs your hand and lightly taps his own cheek with it. 

It does make you laugh, but it’s a watery sound, rippling through your tears. 

“Minho,” you say miserably, “I lost my job.” 

Understanding fills his expression.  You can’t bear to look at him, so you roll towards him to hide your face in his chest.   He lets you, wrapping an arm around you and rubbing your back as you make a blubbery mess on his shirt.   You tell him the whole story, about the promotion you lost to someone else, about the sudden downsizing and subsequent firing.   You are someone who functions with meticulous planning so your life being upended sent you hurtling into an unfamiliar state of panic.  

“That’s why I went out alone the other night,” you say.  Your tears have slowed to hiccups by now.  “I know it was stupid and it made you mad.  I just felt like I was gonna explode.” 

Hopping bars and picking up random men is very out of wont for you.   That’s why you did it.  Minho was less than pleased when he found out you went wandering around downtown at night, inebriated and alone.   His scolding was reasonable but you were beyond reason.

He goes stiff when you mention it now, though he doesn’t stop rubbing your back. 

“I wasn’t mad,” he says after a minute.  “I was just worried.  And…”

You peek up at him.  He sighs and groans and yells all at once, an amazing feat of sound, throwing his head back so it thumps hard against the headboard. 

“I was jealous,” he says bitterly. 

“Jealous,” you say.  “Of me?”  

“Yes.”  He gives you a very sarcastic look.   “I wished it was me in that little black dress going out and—no.  Obviously not of you.  Why do you always torture me like this?   Go cry on the floor.”  He jostles you but jokingly, still holding you against him. 

You laugh a little, resting your head on his shoulder.  Your head feels fuzzy and you don’t think it’s from crying.  Minho just admitted he was jealous of you going out with some other guy.   It feels like your heart is doing circus tricks. 

“There was nothing to be jealous of anyway,” you say softly.  “We didn’t do anything.  He insisted he was, um, really good with, uh, his mouth, you know, but then, like, the more he insisted, um, you know me, I started thinking too hard and, um, he couldn’t make me, well…”

“Keep stammering.  It makes me feel less embarrassed about myself.”   

“Minho.”  You slap his chest.  His laugh is more of a maniacal cackle, his demeanour having shifted back to glee at your admission.   You lift your head to look at him, biting your lip, noticing how his eyes go to your mouth.  “He wound up leaving before it could go farther,” you say, your words startling him into meeting your gaze.  You know it’s a petty blow, but you can’t help but admit, “He said I was too uptight and left.”

Minho’s whole face scrunches up like he just got punched in the gut.   

“No,” he says.  “No.   You’re just saying that to bully me.  I didn’t call you the same thing as that idiot.”   

“It’s okay,” you say. 

“No.” He groans again, closing his eyes and kicking his feet.  “Ahhhhhhh.  I should be shot!”  

You are laughing properly now, clinging to him as he squirms in horror.          

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Oh really?”  He cocks an eyebrow at you, his mouth a grim line. 

“Well.”  You burst into laughter all over again.  “Maybe just a little!” 

He laughs hard at that, shaking his head, but still retaliates by tickling you.  Your laughter turns hysterical, peels of giggles as he pokes every ticklish inch of skin. 

“Minhoooo,” you whine to no avail.  He just grins and continues his attack. 

Your wriggling pushes the blankets off the bed.  You try and whack him with a pillow so that hits the floor too.  Soon it is just you and Minho and some dishevelled bedsheets, you on your back with him leaning over you.   You are both out of breath, both smiling.  His hands are by your head, cradling you under him, while yours are on his chest as if preparing to push. 

The room feels quiet, the silence again tense.  But this tension is not rife with the same uncertainty as before.   It is not guilt or shame, but a longing that comes from the whispered confession that he was jealous of the last man in your bed, the simple reality that he is sharing your bed right now.     

You do not push him away.  You hook your fingers in the collar of his shirt and pull.  His elbows bend as he swoops down, meeting your raised head.  He kisses you, deep and hot and slow, gently pressing your head back into the plush bed.  Your squirming is very different now, legs opening to make room for him to settle between them.  He feels so good on top of you, the feeling of his strong thighs between your legs, of his chest under your hands, wisps of hair brushing your face as he kisses and kisses and kisses you. 

The kiss ends when you are simply too breathless to continue.  He rests his forehead against yours, breathing hard. 

“Wow,” you say softly.  You look at him.  His dark eyes are often severe in a playful way and right now they are intense, seductive, and it isn’t a joke.   You touch his bottom lip, holding his gaze while he kisses the tips of your fingers.   “Just so you know, that kiss was way better than everything that happened the other night.”

He grins at that. 

“Oh,” he says.  “Really?” 

“Yeah.”  You watch him kiss your fingers again, then your palm.  He looks at you as he dips a little lower, kissing the inside of your wrist.  You are hypnotized by the heat of his dark stare, so you speak without thinking much.  “Everything you do turns me on, though,” you say.  “Even earlier, when you were crushing that garlic with the knife—”

His seduction breaks with a little laugh and he raises both eyebrows. 

“Garlic?” he asks.  “The garlic got you hot?”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say, pouting.  “You already made me cry once tonight…”

“Oh, is that what happened?” he says.  “Sure, okay, let’s play.  I made you cry.   I should make it up to you?”

“Mhm…”

“Well then.”  He leans in close to kiss you but he lingers for a torturously long time, just hovering above your lips.   Then he abruptly pulls away.  He kneels upright and sits back on his heels.   

Confused, you push yourself up on your elbows.   He is looking around the room and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“What is it?” you ask.   

“Hmm?”  He looks at you, tilting his head as if you are the confusing one.  “What?  I’m just looking for some garlic, since you’re into that for some reason.  Give me a minute to remember where I put it.”  

“Ahhh, I hate you!”  You flop back down, covering your face with your hands. 

Minho, diabolical creature that he is, throws back his head and laughs.  He tries to pry your hands off your face but you stubbornly hold on.  He sighs with theatrical exasperation and gives up.  

You hear the rustle of fabric.  Curious, you peek between your fingers.  Minho is staring down at you with a single eyebrow cocked, a smug little smirk tugging at his lips.  That smirk grows as he reaches back, flexing his arms before grabbing the back of his t-shirt and pulling.  Your hands fall away from your face completely, your eyes drinking in the gradual reveal of skin as he pulls his shirt off.   It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding curtly.  “Your turn.”  He makes a come-hither motion with two fingers.  “Come on.  Hurry up.” 

Your brain has short-circuited.  It takes a second to make sense of his request and another minute to actually do it.  You sit up long enough to peel your shirt off, then flop back down where you continue to stare at him.   You are checking each other out, looking up and down.   Your eyes goes over his bare chest and down, your mouth falling open. 

You breath catches when he cups his hardening dick through his sweatpants, rubbing the heel of his hand there. 

You meet his gaze, already breathing harder.

“What else then?” he says, still stroking himself through his clothes as he looks at you. 

“Uh, ah, erm, hm—”

“You said everything I do turns you on.”  He falls forward and catches himself on both hands, so suddenly you gasp.   Once again his arms cage you in, his face close to yours.  His hips come down heavy between your legs, his dick hard where it presses intimately against you.  “So,” he says.  “What else then?” 

“Oh.”  You are staring at his mouth, gaze heavy-lidded when he rocks against you.  “Um.  Well.  Sometimes when you’re driving in reverse and you put your hand on my headrest, it kinda—” 

Once again, his seduction attempt is thwarted when he can’t help but laugh.  He drops his head, laughing harder when you lightly smack him.    

“Stop asking if you’re just gonna laugh!” you say, even while laughing too. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic and driving in reverse.  I’m learning so much.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” 

“That would be very rude,” he says.  “Especially since I’m about to go down on you.” 

“You—wha—ohhh—”

You grab his head instinctively, fingers sinking into the natural dark roots of his dyed hair, just as he dips down to press kisses on your chest.  You arch under him as his mouth finds every sensitive spot, licking sweetly and biting meanly, as to be expected from Minho.  By the time he reaches the waistband of your shorts, you are panting and wriggling and clawing at him desperately.   

You don’t even have time to overthink.  The world and all its troubles fall away for the time being.  

You will figure things out.  You always do.  Right now, you let yourself lose control.   You usually hate the feeling, but in this moment you don’t mind at all, because Minho has you.   You trust him completely.  Surrender is easy.   

The rest of your clothes join the messy heap on the floor.  He runs his hand smoothly along the inside of your thigh before guiding it over his shoulder.   He kisses there, then kisses you excruciatingly chastely between your legs.  When you try and move, he keeps you steady, the sturdy hands that captivated you now holding you firmly in place. 

When he finally stops torturing you, he gives you everything at once: a long, hot lick right up your centre.  Again, your fingers find his hair.  He doesn’t complain or lose focus even though you are scratching at him a bit ferociously.  Ever a skilled worker, he stays on task.  It is so deft and swift and thorough; you get so wet and slippery that you can feel it running it down your skin.  

When you get close, your hips lift but he brings you back.  He looks up between your thighs as he brings you over the edge.  Your legs shake and your eyes close and you bite your hand just a little, trying not to be too noisy in the middle of the night at a campsite. 

He climbs back up when finished, looking like a very smug feline as he wipes his face on the back of his hand.   

“On a scale of garlic to driving in reverse—” he starts. 

You playfully cuff the side of his head. 

“That good?” he continues to tease. 

You roll your eyes but smile.   You think it is a seductive smile, but you do feel a little wrecked.   Still, you stay on task too, sliding your hand down his chest, down, down, down and—

“Oh,” you say.  You look down at the same time as him.  A noticeable wet stain is on the front of his sweatpants.  “You already—”

He flops down beside you and sighs.

“Sorry,” he says.  “You weren’t the only one amazed with my sexy performance.” 

“That’s okay,” you say with a laugh.  You roll over to rest your head on his chest.  His arm comes down around you, hand running down your naked back.  You giggle when he cups and squeezes your ass.  You dance your fingers down his pants to the wet spot where he came.  “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.” 

Minho came from eating you out.  Of course you think it’s hot. 

And of course he has to be Minho about it. 

“Okay,” he says.  “Garlic. Driving in reverse.  Premature ejaculation.  Uptight was definitely the wrong word.  I honestly don’t know if I can keep up with a freak like you—”

“Ugh!”  You roll away and turn your back to him, mostly to hide the fact you are laughing at his stupid joke. 

He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind.  This time he kisses your shoulder properly, once, twice, three times.  All the way up your neck to your ear and just behind it. 

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” you whisper. 

“I like you too,” he whispers back, kissing your shoulder again. 

You smile and close your eyes, listening to the rain and letting yourself snuggle safely in his arms. 

[withleeknow]

away from you.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, a touch of angst if you squint and then close your eyes entirely, unedited 🤷‍♀️ word count: 0.9k listen to 🎧: what i'm leaving for - lady antebellum note: yet another est. rel drabble because this is purely self-indulgent and i miss him very much lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when you hear the key turn in the lock, you're up from the couch in a blink of an eye.

a pile of jittery nerves and longing, that's what you've been reduced to.

you will yourself to wait - the most patient you think you've been in a long time - until he hauls his suitcases past the threshold, until he takes off his coat and hangs it on the hook in the entryway, until he kicks off his shoes and places them neatly next to yours, until the keys are in the bowl, until he lets out a heavy but relieved sigh before shuffling further into your shared home.

you feel like you could cry the very second your eyes land on him. it's been months since you've been in the same room as him - exactly three and a half months, because you have been counting. counting down the days until he returns, until you're back in his embrace again.

not all of the lights are turned on, but there isn't a single part of you that cares about whether or not your living room is properly lit. you launch yourself at him with a force that sends him stumbling backward until his sweater-clad torso softly lands on the wall. minho gasps - a slightly alarmed oof! - but soon relaxes when he recognizes the familiar and comforting scent of your shampoo.

he greets you with a laugh, light and relieved, like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

"hi," you sniffle, feeling his arms wrap around your body, holding you tightly against his chest. god, it's not even dramatic to admit that you've been dreaming of this.

"hi," he says, voice muffled as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling your skin. "why are you still up? i told you not to wait up for me."

"it's only 1am."

"but i know you've had a long week."

"don't care."

it's true. you can't bring yourself to care about the hellish week you've had because all of those troubles seem to melt away in his presence. you wouldn't even care if his flight had landed at 5 in the morning, because you would have stayed up the whole night to wait for him anyway.

minho makes everything better for you.

"i'm all gross from the plane," he says, though he doesn't ease his hold on you at all.

"don't care."

"you missed me that much?" there's something playful in his tone as he asks you this, partly because he always wants to tease you for being down bad for him, partly because he can sense that you're about to turn into a crybaby.

you pull back just enough to look at his face, his striking features illuminated only by the dim lights. but even then, he's still stunning. beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...

you pout with teary eyes as your fingers trace his cheek, his jawline, his sharp nose that you love so much. "don't make fun of me," you say, though your voice comes out a bit wobbly. "you know i missed you so fucking much."

he chuckles fondly at your language, his big eyes glimmering like a north star, before he dips his head to finally kiss you. and it's fucking liberating, the first kiss that you've shared in months.

his lips move languidly against yours, like he's trying to savor the moment, trying to commit to memory the taste of you because these instances tend to hit him the hardest even if he doesn't always tell you that.

he absolutely hates it when he has to be away from you, but whenever he returns and gets to have you again, it always makes the love burst tenfold in him. absence makes the heart grow fonder - maybe there’s some truth in that.

he kisses you until you're both out of breath, until he has to reluctantly pull away so your lungs wouldn't burn out. "i missed you too," he mumbles, his lips brushing yours with every syllable he speaks. "missed you so much i thought i was going to die."

you laugh at the theatrics of his words, and then you cry, a single tear overflowing and rolling down your cheek, which minho quickly brushes away with his thumb. "a little dramatic," you comment.

"i was miserable. ask anyone."

you roll your eyes, feeling the slight burn behind them as you hold onto him, clutching his sweater to keep him close to you.

“you’re never allowed to leave me for that long ever again.”

with an amused eyebrow raised, minho says, “then how long am i allowed to leave you for?”

“five hours.”

“five hours? that’s not even a whole work day.”

you pretend to be in thought, then pretend to compromise. “okay, fine. eight hours.”

his eyes crinkle with mirth as he looks at you, so incredibly endeared by the adorable pout on your lips and the glassy look in your eyes, by you pawing at his chest like you never want him to leave.

he doesn’t want to leave either. he just wants to stay by your side forever.

“god, i missed you so much,” minho breathes out, then leans down to rest his forehead against yours, nudging your nose with his along the way. “i’m sorry i was away for so long.”

“you’re here now. that’s all that matters.”

he kisses you again, even softer and slower this time. he adores you so much that it feels like his heart is about to give out.

“i’m home now. i love you.”

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 18.12.2023]

[ybklix]

Wearing lose shirt with nothing underneath & sitting on his lap ?? 😵‍💫 Lee know?

minho’s lap😮‍💨

take it off

♡ lee minho

⟡summary: Your boyfriend loves to tease you and make you feel good even after a tiring day at work.

❀ pairing: idol lee know x fem reader

♡ genre - warnings: smut, established relationship, dom! minho, teasing, slight dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex

word count: 3k

a/n: my first request ig wohoo u little minhoes, is this how it works? lol, i had this in my head since minho is tio by zayn coded

You missed Minho, you haven't seen him for days because he was busy at work, you knew that during these dates it was difficult to see him, and then it became almost impossible once he returned to make his presentations, even staying all night in the place. But tonight he promised to see you, lately he ended up so tired that all he did was go to his dorm to rest, sadly you had to insist that he agreed to see you, he also missed you intensely but when it came to his work he got too serious, after all, he had a reputation and image to maintain.

You had cooked for Minho variety of his favorite dishes, you were a little exhausted but it would be worth it to see his tender face light up when he ate something delicious. You were in the kitchen, setting everything up when you heard the characteristic sound of your door indicating that someone was coming in, you smiled broadly and almost run to your foyer to see who it was. Minho was wearing blue jeans, a simple white shirt and a thin jacket loose to his body, he was completely covered even though it was a hot summer day in the city, he couldn't risk being recognized.

You pounced on him and hugged him by the neck, you had missed him so much you couldn't get enough of saying it, Minho reciprocated the hug right away, holding tightly to your lower back.

“Oh, y/n” Minho said while he could still breathe in the smell of your hair.

“Don't let us stop seeing each other for so long” you warned him in a stern but gentle tone once you parted.

Minho smiled as he watched you tenderly and nodded, removing his jacket and face mask.

“What's that?” you asked him as you noticed he was carrying plastic bags from somewhere he shopped in his hand.

“Ah, a dessert for later, come on let's go” Minho added confidently, walking into your apartment.

Minho walked next to you to the kitchen with his hand gently on your butt and finally saw what you had cooked for him.

“Woah, it looks delicious. Thank you, love” Minho walked over to you giving you a kiss on your head.

You watched his round eyes sparkle as he sat down to eat, you wanted to hear everything from him, even though you texted daily and were updated on every single thing he did, you wanted to hear him talk and talk.

“I'll take a picture and post it” he said before picking up the chopsticks.

You smiled at the horrendous angle he took the pictures and joined him for dinner. You didn't want to ask him about work, his face looked a little dull and tired that you didn't know if it was right to start talking about it, but there was nothing else to say, since he spent more time at the company than with you, you both knew that starting a relationship would be sometimes a lonely dynamic, still it was worth every second when you were with him, as if he rewarded you double and you forgot that you don't see him that often. Still you tried to be gentle and say to him:

“Did you have a long day today?”

Minho looked at you and stopped eating for a second.

“Yes, kind of, it was long because it was a day of waiting and small recordings, there were no rehearsals so I found it tedious.”

You could tell it was one of those days by seeing his perfectly coiffed hair and light makeup a bit already worn on his face.

“Did you pick the best pictures for the album?” you said to him amused.

“Sure, I posed like this” he replied amused making a random pose by putting his hands behind his head.

Minho smiled, adorably raising his high cheekbones and you caught his laughter. He kept telling you more details, you adored listening to him talk, he even shared his upcoming schedule to see which days he could dedicate his day only to you, you sighed watching him, sometimes you wanted to be a clingy girlfriend going everywhere he went but, you had to keep your posture.

“When we go to Busan, you're coming with me, I'm not asking you” he commented seriously looking at you intensely, you knew him well, yes he meant it but his intention of being intense was just him being a bit of a tease.

You nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek; after a few minutes he wanted to tidy up and wash all the dishes used as he was always helpful no matter what, you begged to help him as he insisted that you should stay seated to rest the food.

You were next to him, helping him to dry the dishes while Minho washed each pot cautiously, you loved the closeness of his body, honestly you were totally willing for tonight to be one of those tender ones where later he takes a shower and you both go to sleep cuddled up, but you lost yourself in the movement of his big soapy hands, the skillful crush of the sponge and his marked arms with notorious veins... that's when you realized that you didn't just need Minho's company, you needed everything from him, and when you least thought about it, you remembered that it had been long days without sex. You decided to blame your random horny thoughts to the heat of the day, despite having your apartment cool, outside it was a total mess, strong sun during the day and dry and hot nights, you wore shorts and a loose button down blouse that Minho bought you on one of his many trips, he always did that, he bought something for you, but definitely his favorite thing to give you as a gift was clothes that matched his.

You were relieved that Minho didn't notice that you suddenly became aroused at the thought of his hands touching your body, nor that he noticed you looking at him shamelessly, he was just there innocently helping you wash your dishes; otherwise if he had noticed he would start with his double meaning comments and his arrogant little smile, you didn't want it now, you felt completely needy that you didn't need any more humiliation by your boyfriend.

You both finished and Minho decided to rest a bit in your living room making himself comfortable on the couch.

“You'll stay here to sleep, right?” you asked standing in front of him.

“Mmhum” gasped Minho as he stretched his body closing his eyes and trying to relax, “Seungmin is in charge of the dorm, I told him not to disturb at all.”

Minho stared at you, you smiled and were ready to sit next to him until you noticed how he patted his thigh indicating you to sit on his lap, you couldn't be happier and fell on his legs hugging his neck, positioning your body sideways on top of him. You loved sitting on his lap, his thighs were strong and worked, you were so comfortable and your ass accommodated perfectly with no problem, Minho also knew how much you loved it too, as well as slapping his thighs with your ass as you jumped on his cock.

For him it was simple, when he wanted to have you, he did, he would get hard in seconds when it came to you, he still loved to tease you and prolong the process, torturing you both.

“How much did you miss me?” he murmured with an arrogant tone in a low, thick voice.

You slowly lost your sanity as you looked into his leering eyes and heard his tone, oh god, you thought, of course he was going to fuck you tonight, you were so excited that your lower part started to react. Minho was holding you tightly by the waist with his left hand while with his right one, he caressed your thighs.

“You know that I missed you so much, Minho” you stared at him.

“I needed you too, princess.”

He said and moved closer to you to give you a slow, fiery kiss, you needed him so much, you wanted to jump on his cock now, you were so wet and ready, you wanted to feel full, you could feel him too, so hard in a short time, but Minho… he liked slow play and it was killing you inside.

You moaned between the kiss and pulled your body back as you felt Minho's heavy, warm hand rub your center on top of your garment, you knew perfectly well that Minho could keep you like this for a long time, kissing you hotly until your lips swelled; his hand on your waist began to slide inside your loose blouse finally feeling his touch of skin on yours, making you feel so good, Minho moved his hand up to notice your exposed tits, cupping them tightly as he moved his kisses down your jaw and neck, he was still surprised by the sudden delight of feeling your breasts in his hand.

“Why aren't you wearing anything underneath, princess?” he gasped between kisses, feeling his heavy, hot breath on your neck.

You hated talking when Minho made you so bad, your breathing was so ragged and ragged, but knowing him, you knew he always wanted an answer; if you didn't he would make a sudden move on you and growl through his teeth 'I'm talking to you'.

“It's a hot day and... I'm in the comfort of my home, Minho…” you tried to sound as poised as possible.

Minho smiled sideways and squeezed your nipples and the grip on your pussy tighter, causing you to reflexively close your legs a little.

“Or is it because you love to tease me and were so ready for me, kitten, wearing clothes with easy access” Minho whispered in your ear, massaging your breasts harder, “Besides, how do I know you weren't out there like a little slut going shopping to make dinner with nothing on underneath.”

You shook softly, when he made those kinds of comments you knew you were in for a bit of physical punishment so you bit your lip at the memory of his heavy hand on your ass.

“Stand up for a moment baby” he ordered you in a rough voice, you almost moaned as you stopped feeling his hands on you, it felt so wrong when he stopped touching you, “Turn around” he said and positioned you with your back to him.

You listened as he sat up a little from the couch and suddenly you felt his hand squeeze your thigh and then both them search for the button of your shorts, deftly removing them, you were so excited by every slow movement your boyfriend made and it was so unexpected, in a second he could kneel you down and make you suck his cock, or bend you over and start penetrating you, curiosity was eating you to know what he was going to do with you, but you just decided to enjoy every second of it.

Minho took the elastics of your panties and pulled them tight leaving your sensitive and wet pussy exposed, he massaged your ass with two of his hands and you felt a soft kiss on your skin, suddenly nothing, you turned around confused and found your boyfriend trying to pull down his tight pants from his thighs, despite being a bit baggy, once he sat down they became tight on his big legs and finally free him of that denim that burdened his cock. You bit your lip internally screaming to feel his stiff penis in you; Minho pulled down his underwear releasing his throbbing sex full of energy.

“Come here” he grabbed your arm tightly, “I want to smack your cute ass a little.”

You frowned confused trying to have an explanation, “But..” you tried to say but Minho was being rough moving you.

You swallowed nervously and put your abdomen on his thighs, leaving your ass at his mercy as you felt his erection rubbing a little on your waist.

“Don't expect me to be gentle” moaned Minho, lifting your big, loose blouse a little and giving you a hard spanking and then squeezing the injured area.

You gasped in pain, and pleasure as you felt his fingers fuck your entrance all of a sudden, Minho gave you another four hard spanks with his right hand, leaving his hand branded on your ass while with his other hand he mercilessly moved his fingers in you, you were so close to cumming from the pain and pleasure that you felt a little guilty that you find something like that so fucking exciting, but that was Minho, if he didn't make you suffer a little in sex then it wasn't him, even when you made love which was supposed to be sweet and romantic, he fucked you so deep that he made you dig your nails into his back.

Minho saw your legs contract waiting for you to unload all your tension, you were about to tell him you were going to cum, but he stepped forward and stopped, pulling you by your hair with his left hand and telling you full of desire, “Come here, I'm not done yet, you can't cum until I tell you.”

He made you sit back on his lap for which you moaned for your newly hurt ass, this time turning your back to him, you moaned as you felt his hard cock press against your back, he grabbed your waist a little to lift you up and position his dick between your wet labia, making you both moan, the firmness of his manhood felt so good pressed against your soaked cunt, enveloping it perfectly that you wanted to start moving, but you were completely in submissive mode, it was obvious that you couldn't do anything because it was one of those times when your boyfriend took total control.

Minho moved your loose hair out of the way and positioned his face on the side of your neck. He was so turned on he wanted to see everything of you, he was so needy for your pussy squeezing his cock but the long wait turned him on more, more with your needy gaze and sizzling gasps.

“Take off your shirt, baby” he commanded in your ear.

You were about to bend over and take it off over your head like any normal garment but Minho stopped you, “No, no, do it button by button.”

You almost whimpered at the feel of his throbbing cock under your dripping pussy and you being able to do nothing about it; with trembling hands you tried to do it as fast as you could while Minho watched with so much amusement.

“Good girl, you're a good girl for me” Minho murmured as he saw you managed to do as he asked, “Let's get it off” he gently slid your blouse off, finally leaving you naked.

“I want you to show me…” he muttered again, taking your dominant hand and bringing it to your cunt, “How much you missed me, I want to see how you played with your pussy pretending it was me, did you do that, princess?” gasped Minho.

“Yes” you moaned as you touched his tip pressing against your pussy.

It wasn't a lie, the nights were long and boring without Minho and your only companion at times was your faithful vibrator, but nothing compared to him.

You settled your body a little, rubbing your wetness against his erection and let yourself lean on his chest as you tried to stimulate your clitoris giving him the show he wanted. Your squirts were falling on his cock, you closed your eyes letting yourself go as he squeezed your thigh and your tit. Minho was getting the best view possible, watching you squirm for him as you rubbed his swollen cock.

You gasped, your entrance was a little hard to reach in that position and more so with your boyfriend's big erect dick between your folds.

“Were you moaning my name while you were doing it alone, you dirty slut?”

“Mmm… Mi-minho” you whimpered as you continued to play with your clit and subtly rubbed yourself on his cock.

Minho was so lubed too, he moaned to feel your little movements, if you kept this up he was about to cum too. You started stimulating yourself slowly but your heart rate was getting higher and higher, speeding up your own movements in your pussy too, you were so ready to cum on your boyfriend's cock that you were frustrated that you didn't want your own fingers to be the ones satisfying you, so you thought you were going to give him what he craved so much.

“Fuck me, Minho, do it now, please” you whined in his ear.

Minho smiled to hear you begging.

“Then sit on my cock now, princess, take it and ride it well” he gasped.

Agitated, trying to get back all your senses as you incorporated feeling the incredible wetness of your pussy and let yourself fall on Minho's cock, sliding so easily and smoothly inside of you, still, you ached. You both sighed in pleasure finally as you were joined and you began to jump up and down non-stop being heard in the room the grotesque sound of your wet cunt, your ass falling hard on Minho's thighs and the gasps of both of you.

“Cum for me, princess, cum all over my cock now” Minho whispered excitedly.

Minho helped you by holding your waist and when you felt a little overwhelmed you let yourself lean on his chest still with his t-shirt on and he began to ram you hard lifting his hips, while he played with your clit. You felt him so close too, you whimpered with bated breath and fell surrendered in orgasm, sitting on his cock and thighs.

“You did it so well, princess and dinner was delicious, thank you” Minho told you agitated but sweetly, stroking your hair.

[planetdream]

PLUTO !

CHARACTERS ! vampire!lee minho, human!reader [ft. human!kim seungmin, servant!han jisung]

GENRE ! horror/thriller—vampire!au. “romance”. smut. minors dni.

SYNOPSIS ! when your fiancé, seungmin, fails to return home after notifying you of his departure from count minho's estate, you decide to search for answers yourself.

WORDS ! 12.2k more or less

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! writing inspired by the various varieties of dracula. horror [vampirism. gore—body horror: details of blood and bloodsucking. spiders. strange creatures. nightmares and overall very lucid dreams. allusions to character death.] hypnosis. hallucinations. manipulation and gaslighting. kidnapping? and references to religion [christianity/catholicism], prayers and comparisons to a Higher Power™. mentions of food. infidelity and smut [one wet dream. pussy eating—a lil bush appreciation. hair pulling. big dick minho. grinding. fingering. worship. term master used once. degradation—whore shaming. choking. nipple play/breast fondling. lots of spit. squirt n cum.]

💌 extremely self indulgent. all the thanks and love in the world to the homie, @cosmicbyeol for beta-ing for me n overall being an incredible help !!! 🥺 also, as always, accepting feedback and constructive criticism!!

The last three weeks have been weary, to say the least. You had been elated as your fiancé, Seungmin, was scheduled to arrive back in the city after a nearly two-month-long business trip. With the day of his return steadily approaching, you found yourself excitedly performing various small tasks in preparation for the moment you finally see him again. Then the big day arrives and Seungmin is nowhere to be found. No big deal; perhaps his arrival is a bit late, or he may need time to himself to unwind after long travels. If anything, he’ll show up at your door the next day with flowers and a gift, ready to tell you all about his journey and the people he’d made connections with. 

Then the fourth day comes, and by that point, you’re knocking on his front door but to no answer. You stroll past his home on your evening walks and the lights aren’t on. You’ve revisited the post office, checked in with relatives; and still, nothing. Seungmin is seemingly lost to space and time. By the sixth day, you’ve written a letter to Count Minho, the friend and business partner that Seungmin had been staying with; explaining the situation and the fact that you’ll be visiting while in search of Seungmin. 

Count Minho is a mystery to you. Seungmin never spoke with you about his relations with the Count, and you never pried into the specifics of his work business. From what you do know, Seungmin’s work involves him being in contact with several different people from real estate to archaeologists and historians, to priesthoods and other religious leaders. You simply assumed Count Minho had been one of the aforementioned, or possibly an artifact seller or buyer; as Seungmin is interested in the hobby himself, and has countless other buyers and sellers he knows. While the Count is a mystery, you feel that there is a possibility that he can lead you back into the arms of your lover. 

After a few days of planning and packing, you finally decide to get started on your journey. By the Sunday of the third week, you’re lodging with some very nice people in the town nearest to Count Minho’s estate—which is only about a two-hour distance away—you choose to stay in the village to get the word out about Seungmin. 

The townsfolk are a welcoming and lively bunch. You were fed, rested, and told stories of both local legends and the juiciest gossip around town. On the eve of your final night in town before you join the Count, you mentioned him, and the room fell silent. A feeling of unease weaved its way into the small kitchen you’d been standing in. The two women beside you failed to meet your gaze. You had already been told of the creatures said to be lurking through the forests between town and the area of the Count’s estate. A classic story of a wolfman who is out to kidnap unsuspecting young men and women; only brought up because of very recent alleged sightings. 

A third woman finally spoke up. Urging you to forego your plan of visiting what she called such a vile and off-putting man. There’s a legend about the man who lives in the castle at the edge of the forest—whom you presume to be Count Minho—who comes into town during the night of the first full moon of the spring season, with the sole purpose of terrorizing people in their homes; feasting on their organs and drinking their blood. The last occurrence happened nine springs ago: a family of five, two completely drained of blood and tossed to the side, with another two torn piece-by-piece; left mixed in a pool of wasted blood. There had been one remaining survivor, eyes removed from their sockets, who only could say one thing: “He called himself God.”

Though the story terrified you—you refused to let that stop you. If Count Minho is some extraordinary beast, then let you be the one to stop him if it means you get to become one with Seungmin again. 

Alas, the day to meet Count Minho has come, and the women you shared dinner with last night are appalled to hear that you were insistent on making your way to Count Minho’s estate. Knowing that they cannot stop you, they wish you luck and pray for you, gifting you a crucifix for safety on your journey. 

By the time you approach Count Minho’s estate, it is about an hour after sundown. The sky begins to dim rapidly, as the former golden-pink hue of the sky begins to turn into a deep purple and later fading into black. The temperature drops by the hour but thankfully the winter season is coming to an end. The snow is already clearing up, and in a couple days it will have been long gone and forgotten for generous showers of rain. 

Your arrival, predestined and arranged to be brought by carriage, led you here. And as you pull into the gates of the estate, an unsettling feeling hits you. Deep in the pit of your stomach as if something had crawled inside of you and is now scratching to be freed. Despite that, the feeling of discomfort quickly begins to wash over you, seemingly dispersing into fascination—like a group of butterflies or a bouquet of flowers flourished within your body and spirit. You feel a lot lighter, elevated as if a veil was pulled over you. 

You can hardly see the castle in the darkness, but if you strain your eyes hard enough, you may be able to see the silhouette of the grand estate. Though that’s no use, the surrounding forest, and deep black sky work as a void, shielding away any ounce of natural light, encompassing the castle within its secrets. The moon, nearly full, and friendly to those who respect it, is useless as the structure of the castle casts away the inquisitive nature of the celestial body—nothing will be brought to light or justice tonight. 

The carriage, drawn by three black horses, halts in front of the main entrance. Several long, white, cylinder candles light up the main door of the Count’s castle. The entrance is similar to that of a cathedral’s—two heavy-looking doors adorned with indescribable red patterns; swirling into shapes that seemingly recreate human-like faces. It’s vague. At a simple glance, the patterns reflected by the candlelight look like faces, but the longer you look at them you realize otherwise. The patterns seemingly have no rhyme or reason, endless red swirls that are simply just decorations. 

Atop the door is a large arch, and in the dead center is a sculpture of a man—perhaps it’s of the Count. In the brief flicker of the flame, you can see the face of the sculpture. Its face is horrid, angry even; a permanent scowl displayed. But in that short second, you notice its eyes, big and red, fixated directly on you. There’s a chill that runs down your spine in that brief moment of eye contact. And while every nerve in your body warns you, there are matters that the Count needs to assist you with that are bigger than just a feeling. 

In your deep thought, one of the doors opens with a loud screech, almost like the scream of someone. It garners a gasp from you, shaking you out of your head and back into reality. Before you know it, your feet are moving faster than your brain and you step out of the carriage. Collecting your bags and holding them tightly, thanking the coachman for bringing you safely. As you turn back to the door, it’s open wider than before, but still, the Count is nowhere in sight. 

You walk closer, hand reaching up to touch the door and you enter, eyes unable to find a resting place. There are candles everywhere, several of them as if there are no electrical lights within the place, despite the huge chandelier hanging from above. The smell of the place does not come from the candles—it’s something else that draws you in, a familiar scent perhaps from your past, but you’re unable to put your finger on it. You step further into the home and when you do, the door behind you slams shut, making you jump and turn back. 

The slam is followed by an unsettling silence, practically deafening. You call out. 

“Hello?” You look around. Just ahead of you is a long hallway, lit up with candles. You’re not sure how long the hallway is, as at a certain point, the light from the flames is no longer visible, fading into a pitch-black blanket. The walls are decorated with cobwebs and a boring gold and red damask; the colors are fading, or at the very least very dusty and in need of upkeep. The floorboards are wooden and when you shift, they make an awful creaking noise. This castle has been around for a long time—centuries even, likely and believably kept within the Count’s family. Modernity has not caught up to it. 

“Hello?” You begin again. “I’m Y/N. I wrote to you a few weeks ago as I had some inquiries for you about Seungmin.” 

Your voice trails off. There’s a cloud of unease that reigns above you, and still, as you stand in the foyer of this already strange place, there’s a familiar warmth that surrounds you. When you breathe in, your chest expands, hair brushing against your neck as you sigh in both contentment and exhaustion. 

“Good evening,” You heard his voice, but you hadn’t heard him come over. “I have been expecting you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but any aforethought words get caught in your throat at the sight of him. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. You catch his eyes immediately, locked into his stare, lost in the deep sands of his chocolate brown eyes. There’s a soft yet teasing nature behind them and it draws you in, latching onto you. He looks to be a lot younger than the age you heard him to be. His lips curve into a smile as he sticks his hand out for you to shake. Though, quite frankly, you’re not sure if you’re supposed to bow to him or not. 

“Yes, um,” You shake his hand, giving a small, shy smile. You’re unable to take your eyes off of him. 

“Come on. You must be cold and tired, let us go sit.” He speaks before you get the chance, letting you collect your thoughts. “Feel free to leave your things there. They will be collected.”

You nod, setting your belongings down and following Count Minho deeper into the castle. You’re unsure if it is because you’re a bit tired, or some very serious architectural error, but the interior of the castle is like a labyrinth of sorts. The Count opens a door you initially assumed to be a room—but instead turned into another hall of rooms. He turns left on his heels and into a side room, you follow along. 

The room you enter is small but comfortable enough for three or four people to have their space. Ahead of you are big windows, covered with thick black curtains that scrape against the floor. To your right is a fireplace, a huge flame already burning and keeping the room nice and toasty. On the right are three large bookcases that reach the ceiling, the multicolored spines of the books add little pops of color. In front of you are two velvet chairs facing the fireplace, divided by a porcelain side table and atop of it are two books and a tea set. 

The room is very neat overall. A couple of misplaced books here and there, sat on the floor. Otherwise, it’s eerily neat. As if the Count rarely uses the room but chronically dusts because everything is just for decoration. The Count takes a seat and as he beckons you over, eyes diverted from your face, as he pours you a cup of tea. You move hastily, sitting at the chair across from him. 

“Hibiscus,” He says, a small smile on his face. “It also seems that I’m forgetting my manners. Those in the town call me the Count, however, you are welcome to call me Minho.”

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with and host me,” You begin, ready to get to the point. The Count—Minho—nods. “As I mentioned in the letter sent, I’ve arrived here to look for my fiancé, Seungmin. I’ve only received letters from his arrival and departure, and not many in between those times; which is unlike him on his usual work trips. It’s been weeks now, three to be exact. And since you are a friend of his, I was hoping you knew of his whereabouts.” 

“I fear I will be of little to no help to you, my dear.” His choice of words, while peculiar, are selected carefully. “Seungmin is a near and dear friend to my heart and I truly hope that he is safe, wherever he may be. The thing I can say is, he had been acting a bit—” He pauses, seemingly pondering on the right word to say before continuing. “A bit…abnormal.”

“He had been here at your home for nearly two months, what exactly do you mean by abnormal?” You inquire, pressing Minho to say more, not caring of how your tone might sound.

“He began to have these dreams, and some active hallucinations. Completely plagued by them. Night terrors, I’d say. He feared whatever he had seen, and while he initially confided in me about it, he soon concluded that I was untrustworthy. Somehow, Seungmin lost touch with reality.” 

Plagued by nightmares is something that you take note of. A month into Seungmin’s stay at the Count’s castle, you began to have these vivid dreams. Some good, some horrendously terrifying and, well, a large percentage of particularly electrifying dreams. The most recent—waves crashing together on a violent stormy night on the sea. You’re aboard a ship, standing in the center of the forecastle, and all around you are piled up bodies; and there’s blood on your hands and arms, staining your skin. Blood soaking into the fabric of your clothing. It felt immensely real. You felt the unease of the rocking boat, you heard the crashing of the waves and the squawks of the birds circling overhead. Weirdest of all, you could smell the blood; almost craving it. The dream ends with the sounds of a heart beating and the rushing of blood flooding to your brain. And then there’s nothingness. 

The Count takes a sip of his tea, and you choose to follow suit. Though, the tea is bitter, even with the added sugar, and not slightly tart as Hibiscus tends to be. Quite frankly, the taste is gross, but you drink out of respect. You do your best to keep a straight face at the taste, quickly setting down the cup. A small smile appears on Minho’s face, exhaling with a short laugh. 

There’s a knock at the entrance of the door. In the frame of the door stands a slender figured man who seems to be a tad shorter than the Count. He’s rather cute with his medium length hair and round cheeks, though he wears a blank expression on his face. He turns to you, doing a brief bow and opening his mouth to speak. 

Minho interjects first, walking towards the other man. “This is Han. Very simply, Mr. Han is my servant. Forgive me, Han here, was supposed to see to your arrival, but he had other obligations to take care of.”

The two look at each other, but only the Count smiles. Han keeps the same stoic facial expression, looking more exhausted than anything. The Count begins speaking once again. “Y/N, here, is the fiancé of Mr. Kim. You remember Mr. Kim, don’t you, Han? Y/N informs me that Mr. Kim didn’t arrive safely back home, now is that right?”

The Count looks to you, and you stand from your seat, nodding. “I’ve gotten a letter of his departure but he hasn’t been home yet,” You let out a deep sigh. “I just miss him so much. I hope that he’s safe wherever he is.” 

The air in the room is thick with tension. For the three of you, this has to be an outstanding situation right? For you, as young as you are, to have the love of your life—the man you plan to marry and give yourself to—to go missing without much word. And for the Count, who has been a longtime friend of Seungmin, having to deal with the weight of potentially being the last one to see Seungmin. 

“A friend of Count Minho is a friend of mine,” Jisung smiles. “I’ll do my best to help you find Mr. Kim.” 

Han and the Count step off to the side to exchange words briefly. Han turns to leave and the Count turns back to you. “Hungry by chance?”

The dining room is rather spacious, and includes a fireplace, which seems to be a running theme within the Castle. The wooden floor panels are mostly covered by a large, deep red rug. Red is the main color of the decor of the room; the velvet dining chairs and all the flowers,—from the pansies to the roses—even the dinner plates; are red. Despite this, it’s clear that Count Minho has quite a bit of money to have afforded all of this: from paintings to small artifacts that decorate end tables and small statues of gargoyles. Perhaps he is indeed a collector of sorts. 

Minho pulls out your chair, pushing it back in once you’re seated. He then takes his seat at the other end of the table. There’s a spread of food on the table and various bottles of wine, to which the Count motions for you to help yourself to. After making yourself a plate, you pour yourself a glass of wine—a red, twirling the liquid within the glass, foregoing the tradition of smelling the aroma and instead shooting it straight back. The wine is rather sweet and washes down smoothly; more like juice than a wine. 

Count Minho watches you eat with inquisitive eyes, studying you. He drinks from his wine glass as he stares at you. “What exactly do you know about your fiancé’s career?”

You meet his gaze, eyes fixated on you with a squint; it all makes you a bit uncomfortable. It’s like Minho can read every bit of you with just a simple look. 

“Not very much.” You admit. 

“Oh?” The Count is especially interested now. “Had he told you anything about me then?”

“No. Only that you were a long-time friend.” You pour another glass of wine. “Although..”

You trail off, unsure of if you should mention the story you heard from the town. You look at the Count, and he raises an eyebrow to you. 

“I had been staying in the town nearby for a few days before coming here. And well, I’m not too sure how to explain it. The only things I know of you come from word of mouth, and well, they aren’t very good.”

“Go On.”

You recite to him the story you had been told about the man in the castle who would come into the town and terrorize its citizens. At the end of the story, Minho erupts in laughter. He’s holding his stomach and chuckling, wiping faux tears from his eyes. 

“Let us just say, I have more valuable things to do than whatever that is,” Minho rolls his eyes. “I only ask because you intrigue me. That, and I never thought of Seungmin as someone who would lie to their lover, really.”

The word lie is interesting. You’d always perceived Seungmin to be an honest man, really. The two of you forged your relationship on the basis of being fully honest with each other. You never thought you would ever come close to doubting Seungmin nor his truthfulness, his faithfulness even; but Count Minho’s tone of voice—the seriousness coating every bit of breath he takes—along with the fact that you don’t truly know of Seungmin’s work, has you second guessing yourself. Now it’s your turn to press him. 

“Continue.”

“I’m saying, you don’t know what the man does for a living but you choose to throw away all inhibitions and potentially roll yourself into danger for a man you almost transparently know next to nothing about.” The Count pauses to sip more of his wine. “Seungmin was into things of the rather unusual variety, I’ll have you know. If you want, I can show you the things that he and I were discussing.” 

You take Minho up on his offer, and he gives you a small smile in return. 

“While I’d love to get to work on such matters tonight, I’m afraid I must go to sleep. I have some important matters to tend to in the morning. Shall I show you where you’ll be staying?”

—

You follow Minho, out of the dining room and down the endless hallway. The wallpaper is practically peeling, and the higher ceiling riddled with cobwebs notably hasn’t been cleaned up in quite a longtime. The obvious decades old paintings that were placed against the walls had been covered in dust and grime, dimming the vibrancy intended by their various artists. He then stops at a white door, turning the knob to open it. The room is dark and cavernous, but with the help of a lit candle sharing its warmth with the candles previously naked and cold, you see that it’s actually quite spacious and bright. White and light brown decor gives the room a light and more alive look in comparison to the thick dreariness of the parts of the castle you’ve seen so far. It’s almost like venturing into another world, or peeking back into an oddly shaped past. 

“Breakfast will be served early in the morning. Sleep well.” And with a smile, Minho exits, closing the door behind him. 

In the silence, thoughts begin to fester, nipping away at your well-being. You’ve gotten next to nothing so far from this meeting with the Count, but tomorrow is a new day and you hope he can give you insight into this world of Seungmin that seems to be unraveling. It’s confusing—for a brief moment you find yourself questioning your decisions. Have all of your life choices led you to this exact moment? The Count is vague in his ways of doing things—it’s like he’s not even trying to hide the potential of his true nature. He appears like any other person, but there’s something more to him than what meets the eye. You’ve been caught in a web of mystery, slowly sinking deeper and deeper.

You find that your bags are sitting next to the bed and you reach in to find your night clothes. Once you lift your shirt over your head, you cannot help but feel like eyes are watching you. Covering yourself, you scan the room in an attempt to soothe your psyche, and as expected, you remain completely alone. Shaking the feeling, chalking it up to being nervous about being in yet another new place, you continue to change your clothing. Sitting at the edge of the bed, you reach into your bag to pull out a letter you received from Seungmin. 

“My dearest heart, 

There is not a moment that goes by where I am not thinking of you. On my lonely and rather daunting work evenings, I look to the sky and am reminded that we share the same view together. You are the one thing keeping me balanced and sane. I know that you are waiting for me to return, and I want nothing more than to return to the safety of your warmth. Until then, look to the sky and be reminded of me. 

K.S”

Once finished reading, you press the letter against your chest. The second to last letter you received. Initially, it was rather hard to sleep at night after you received it. You had longed for your lover—missed his existence to no end, and you still do. There is nothing in the world that you would rather have than the gift of your lover returning to safety. You long for Seungmin, aching for the chance to finally touch him again. To hug, to kiss, to feel every inch of him once again. Today marks the third week since you had last heard from Seungmin, and from tonight onward, you demand to get the answers you deserve. 

You gently place the letter onto the nightstand. You kneel onto the floor, elbows pressed against the bed with your hands together in prayer. You had never been religious, nor, in a situation in which you felt you needed to pray before—but it has become a habit of the last few weeks. Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply. 

“Dear God,” You begin. “Please align me with my lover. Please return him to me safely.”

Pulling back the covers, you snuggle into the bed, drifting off into an idyllic night's sleep. 

You’re stuck. Seemingly, your body is paralyzed; hands resting at your sides, legs pressed together. You try to move, starting with a pinky and then your foot, but the longer time goes on, the more your ability to move lessens. Unable to even move your head left or right. You’re completely stuck. Not to mention, stuck in some complete void of a room, unable to see anything. 

There’s a vibration around you. It’s a subtle vibration, though you can feel your body swaying back and forth as if suspended in the air somehow. Just then, there’s a spotlight. It shines in your face before spirling in circles, lighting up various parts of the area you are in; but still, there’s nothing but darkness, even in the brightness of the light. Just until you view a quick flash of something briefly catching the light. The light runs from the figure before spinning back to shine itself on the mystery. 

Despite its distance away, you can see the thickness of the short hairs that decorate the body of the arachnid. The many eyes of the spider sparkle in the light, its eight moving legs speeding their way over to you. You watch as it clicks its mouth, salivating as it makes its way to its fresh catch. 

Here you are: a mere fly in the realm of the spider. 

At a blink of an eye, the spider is circling you, inching closer and closer until you can no longer see it from your horizontal position. Suddenly! It lurches, jumping atop of you. The spider sinks its fangs into you, piercing your skin harshly, burning. The attack against your skin causes blood to splash everywhere, spraying onto your face and body. You shriek in horror—attempting to send signals for your body to wake up from its terror. Your entire body burns; throat dry and brittle from yelling so much. The area around where the spider’s fangs are latched inside of you, both itches and stings. Feels like you’re getting pumped for your blood yet also injected with its venom. 

If possible, your body gets stiffer. Cold. Vision fading.. And fading until there’s nothingness. All you can feel is the body of the eight-legged creature draped over you; taking and taking freely. 

Despite the nightmare, you feel rather refreshed waking up. A minimal amount of light shines through the curtains. Stepping out of bed to the faint smell of food, you yawn and stretch briefly before heading to the closed door. Stepping into the hall from the confines of the room you spent the night in, you take a few steps across the hall to look out into the window. It looks bright and comfortable outside, a stark difference between the drab, dreariness of the castle’s interior. 

When you arrive at the dining room, there’s a full spread of food. Toast, tea, and a plethora of fruits and berries. In the daylight, the interior of the dining room looks a lot dustier, as if it's barely used. And to be fair, it seems as though only the Count and his dedicated servant occupy the estate. Which you wonder about—does Count Minho have no family? And what about Mr. Han? Any lovers? Who exactly is the Count and what was Seungmin’s business with him?

“Will Count Minho be eating with us?” You ask as you take a seat. 

“Sir is taking care of some business this morning. This breakfast is all yours.”

“You won’t be eating?” 

“Ah,” Jisung sighs with a smile. “I had a big breakfast earlier.”

With that, Jisung lets you begin eating. He simply just stands there, and while his eyes aren't on you, you can feel him observing your presence, similar to Minho. 

“So, Mr. Han,” Playing with your food as you speak. “How long have you worked for Count Minho?”

“Only a few years. Feels like a lifetime, though,” He turns to you, a small smile on his face. 

“Are you also a friend of Seungmin?”

“I’d only spoken to Mr. Kim a few times before his most recent visit. I typically stay out of all of Count Minho’s business affairs. I prefer to deal with the home side of things,” Jisung nods. “Speaking of, you’re free to explore the castle if you’d like. The Count won’t return until later.”

“Really? Are you sure he’ll be okay with it?” The opportunity to explore this grand castle piques your interest. You raise your eyebrow towards Han and he nods in response. 

“It’s no problem, really. To warn you, some rooms aren’t used as much anymore so they might be a bit untidy. Almost time for some spring cleaning.” Han gives you a short, dorky laugh. He’s adorable, if that’s the word. He seems to be on the more timid side, probably doesn’t speak to many people other than Count Minho on any given day. “Jisung, by the way, you can call me that.” 

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” You smile. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Jisung nods. 

“What room did Seungmin stay in?”

“The room that you are staying in.”

The castle looks rather different during the daylight. The hallways feel hollow, completely blank despite the moderate amount of clutter in the form of various books and paintings littering the sidelines. While the idea of a large estate is stunning, it is clearly a bit too much for only the Count and Mr. Han. You wonder if Count Minho has been previously married—or even married at all; to be fair he looks a little young, but it’s possible he’s had a lover in the past. Perhaps that’s why he’s so understanding of your pursuit to find Seungmin. 

You return to your room. Beginning at the bedside table, you tour around the room, looking for clues that might help you. Searching the dressers in the room, you make your way over towards the small desk in the far corner. Opening the drawers of the desk, there remains nothing but untouched letter paper. Scanning the area for any unchecked marks, your eyes fall towards the bed. Dropping to your knees, you crawl the short distance to the edge of the bed. Pulling the bed skirt up in anticipation only to be left with nothing but dust bunnies. This initial search leaves you empty handed but you go off to make your way through the rest of the Castle. 

The castle is indeed like a labyrinth. Some doors open to an empty, decrepit room of various doors. Admittedly, you’re a bit too afraid to open one of the random doors. You’re not familiar with the layout of the estate, and you refuse to get too deep into this trap of a home. One door opens to a windowless room, and the singular wooden chair in the middle causes you to back out of said room slowly. 

Continuing on your pursuit through the endless halls of Count Minho’s estate, you approach a doorless room. Without needing to walk in, you can tell by the bookcases that it’s a library of sorts. Making your way through the entryway of the library, you find that the temperature of the room is noticeably colder than the hall. The library has dark wooden shelves filled with books from the ceiling to the floor, and you know that if Seungmin was here, he’d be able to tell when and where the shelves were constructed. He would always pick up little pieces of knowledge like that—claiming that he didn’t know why yet, but knowing such would help further him in life; and importantly, in his studies. 

You run your fingers over the spines of the books as you stroll your ways through the library. There are books spanning across language and subject—the majority of it, completely unidentifiable to you. 

You come across a leather-bound book displayed on one of the bookshelves, cover forward. It’s dark, dusty, and might even be a little dirty. The cover of the book itself is twisted, the skin of the book twists and dives into different layers, somehow folding the cover of the book inside of itself. It’s complex and strange, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Just to hold it, the weight of the book is heavy, somehow warming up in temperature. To feel the book, to hold it in your hands, it intrigues you just as much as it disgusts you. 

The language of text presented on the pages is unknown to you. The drawings that accompany the writings, however, are disturbing. Dark and detailed illustrations of creatures that you would never have thought of. Upon the first page is a visualization of a winged creature with the distant silhouette of a man. Only there’s a huge eye where the head would be, and its legs are tangled and twisted together. Turning a page, you’re presented with another drawing. An illustration in charcoal of a dark figure. The drawing looks as though it’s been drawn in haste; a rushed, frantic effort. Alongside is another illustration of a mouth—though without ink, the artist did their best to emphasize the splotches of blood that stain the mouth. What stands out the most are the set of razor sharp canines that protrude from the teeth—two sets, specifically. Beholds, the only romanization on the page: Vampyre.

A chill runs down your spine, but you’re unable to remove yourself from the grasp that the book has. Turning page after page, overstimulating yourself with various images of creatures that are likely to lurk in the shadows. The longer you examine, the more your head pounds. Nausea interrupting all plans you may have had. Head spinning and spinning, visions bending and thrawn within itself. Figments of the images you’ve viewed imprinting themselves on your vision in dark splotches like a memory. The new and the strange tangling itself within your memories, hiding within them for safe keeping. 

“Y/N?” There’s a light voice that breaks you out of your spell. 

When you come to, Count Minho is standing over you, his cold hand pressed against your forehead. You look around the room, sitting in an opposite corner of the library than you originally remembered. 

“Are you alright?” He asks. 

“I’m not too sure,” You sit up straight in your seat. You look towards the open window and the sky outside is completely dark. Somehow, it appears that hours have passed. What a freaky and strange thing. 

When you look up at Minho from your position on the chair, you’re immediately pulled into the pools of his eyes, locked in. “You must be hungry, yeah? It’s dinner time.” 

Just like last night, Minho leads you to the dining room. Just like last night, he slides your chair out and pushes it in for you. The spread of food tonight is different from last night, and you notice that some of the decor around the room looks different as well. Your vision hasn’t quite recovered from its hectically blurred state, and in your moment of disillusion, none of this interests you.

“Is there something wrong?” Minho asks as he sits. What isn’t wrong? You feel a rather painful shift in your own mood. 

“I think I might be a bit tired.” You exhale. Despite aching for the continuous pursuit of knowledge, sickness continues to trail behind you. Uncertainty creeping its way up to the forefront of your thoughts. You’re unable to escape the feeling that there might be something seriously wrong. Anxiety rests in the pit of your stomach, slowly eating away at you. Refusing to look at Minho, you pick at the food on your plate. Honestly, you feel rather sick. Your vision, while still painfully blurry, continues to spin ever so slightly. Placing your hand flat against your forehead to find that you’re burning up on flu type levels. You look across the table toward Minho and your vision doubles, triples, then suddenly you're seeing eight versions of him. 

It’s a bit of a hassle to move the heaviness of your hand, fingers slowly creeping up to grasp onto the wine glass. You close your eyes to soothe your vision, taking the glass into your hand fully. 

Minho coos. “I was really looking forward to dinner with you; but if you’re tired we can postpone our conversation.”

Taking a sip and allowing it to savor on your tongue. The slight, unsuspecting note of pomegranate makes you smile—something comforting in the mixture of mess you’re currently feeling. 

Grace be to God. When you open your eyes, your vision returns to normal. It’s something of a miracle. 

“No. It’s fine. That strange book in the library,” You look at Minho and struggle to find the words. All that remains in your head is visuals of every creature you saw depictions of. 

“What book?” He doesn’t follow. 

“It has drawings of these strange creatures in it. Some kind of horror book, I think it made me a bit sick.”

“I’ll tell Han to search for it so that I can have a look,” 

Dinner continues with only a few moments of silence. The topics range from a variety—the original focus of conversation on Seungmin before venturing off elsewhere. Count Minho gives you insight on what he does; referring to himself as someone who studies human nature, communication and our state of existence. He loves the study of humans and thus dedicates his life to it, choosing to be of help in any way he could be. Of which, is how he met Seungmin, and from there, they became partners due to their similar interests. Somewhere, is a layer of information that Count Minho refuses to give up so soon. 

“May I walk you to your room?” Minho asks, rather politely, but your room is not too far from your current position. Still, you say yes to him. 

Unlike dinner, the very short walk is in total silence, but Minho’s presence is comforting. You reach the door to your room in no time and Minho steps in front of you before you can say anything. The silence continues as Minho and you stare at each other. Though, the silence turns to static when Minho leans in to kiss you. His lips on yours and you don’t even bother to pull away. Instead, you kiss back, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He pulls away in haste, muttering a goodbye before walking off into the darkness of the hall.  

You step into your room and therefore, instantly step into a pool of guilt and confusion. Seungmin is so far from the forefront of your mind—for you to indulge in a kiss with another man and to not think once about your lover. What kind of monster have you become?

Once changed into your night clothes, you peel under the covers and you pray. You don’t feel like yourself, and the feeling creeped upon you. The thoughts in your brain are mixed together, both elaborate and unintelligible, a mixture of things you know and things you never knew. Images of those same creatures stain the darkness when you close your eyes, peeling back layers of the person you once knew to be you. Before sleep finally engulfs you, you pray for the guidance of whoever is listening. 

Minho guides you towards the bed. Red and black satin sheets fitted across the bed and the pillows. Minho pushes you against the bed and huffs out a short laugh, smirking at you. You bite your lip out of nervousness, peering up at him. 

“You’re so beautiful, my rose.” Minho’s hand is soft against the skin of your knee. Lightly, he drags his nails against your thigh, inching closer and closer to the material of your nightgown. 

Before he does anything, he leans down to kiss you; eyes closing as your lips work in sync, souls melting together. The kiss deepens for just a moment until Minho pulls back, brown eyes staring into your own. He plants one more quick kiss against your lips before his hands begin working beneath your gown. He slides your dress up to your waist, admiring the softness of your belly and the smoothness of your skin. One kiss above your navel and another kiss below, is all he lets himself have before he gets too deep into it. 

You make it easy for him, foregoing underwear to allow your lover easy access. Minho can only scoff, but he shuts himself up with another kiss to your mound. “Just for me, my dear?”

“Only you, love.” You smile at him, motioning for him to come closer. Minho, of course, follows suit. He would give you a billion and one kisses if he could. 

When the kiss breaks, Minho drags you towards the edge of the bed. Spreading your legs apart, he drops to his knees beginning his worship of your cunt. Tongue flailing out, slurping up every drop of your wetness, soft lips drenched in your flavor—and there’s no other way Minho would rather have you than at his complete surrender. His hands grip your ass, trying to push you into his face. Lips covered in slick and spit, puckering around your clit, sucking it in; Minho’s head bobbing up and down slightly, moaning into your cunt. 

“So fucking delicious,” Minho mumbles, continuing with his feast. Your hands fly to his hair, pulling with every lick and suck he gives you. Moaning freely, not caring if the entire world can hear you. In fact, maybe the entire world should hear you. 

Minho eats you sloppily, savoring not only your taste, but the feeling of your cunt against his skin. The feeling of the softness of your pubic hair against his skin is like heaven to him. Sometimes, he’ll spend time rubbing this face against the hair before he dives into your cunt. Not to mention the feeling of your juices soaking into his skin, which he’d use as a natural moisturizer if he could. Minho’s obsessed with every inch of you; from your cunt to your skin, to the very blood that courses through your veins.

His fingers push into you as his tongue swirls against your cunt. His lips suck your clit into his mouth, tongue lightly beating against the tip of the bud. Minho pushes his saliva to the front of his mouth, soaking your clit in a mixture of his spit and your juices. 

Your fingers pull against Minho’s hair, tugging harshly against his scalp but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He might even ask you to pull harder. You push Minho against your cunt, slowly grinding your hips against his face. Moans bouncing off the walls as you drip onto Minho’s tongue. Minho takes this opportunity to suck on your clit just a tad harder, triggering your pending orgasm. Eyes rolling to the back of your head allowing you to see colors as warmth rocks through your body. Limbs daring to curl together, Minho doesn’t allow you to move from the hold of his hands nor the warmth of his mouth. 

Minho slowly kisses up your body. You can feel the remnants of his kisses even after he’s long gone from a spot because of the wetness on his lips. He kisses at your neck, then your cheek, and finally your lips. Deepening the kiss as he taps his cock against your cunt, you invite him in. 

Three long orgasms later, you and Minho are snuggled in bed, snoring softly beside each other. Suddenly, you’re woken up by a loud bang. Looking to your side, you find Minho unbothered, still asleep, chest rising gently with each breath. There’s another bang, louder and possibly closer than last. You slide out of bed, looking back at Minho’s sleeping figure before making your way towards the door, hand reaching for the glass door knob. 

There’s another loud crash as you twist the handle of the door. You step into the hall of darkness, wooden floor cold against the bottom of your feet. Closing the door behind you, you venture out into the darkness. The halls of the castle are quiet, unmoving; day in and day out they remain the same, even in the dead of night. It’s rather sorrowsome, actually. So full, yet so empty—the castle feels like it's dying. 

Another loud bang. Followed by another and another. One after the other, four beats apart. The knocking appears to get louder with each step you take towards the staircase. You raise your foot to take that first step, there’s another bang once you firmly plant your foot against the stair. Quickly but carefully, you make your way up the staircase. In the near distance, towards the end of the hall presents a glimpse of golden light. 

Letting your legs guide you, you make way towards the door at the end of the hall, almost floating. The knocking doesn’t stop, getting louder and louder the closer you get to the door; but when you try to halt, you’re guided to your destination by a sudden force; body stiffening, neck making a sharp turn as you peek into the room. The crackling warmth and light emitted from the fireplace sets a gorgeous, homey scene. 

“Help.. Me..” 

Your eyes shoot towards the ground until you find the fingertips of a man laying in a puddle of blood. But before your brain can process who the person is, you’re snatched away. Falling fast into a pit of darkness. 

You awake in the dead of the night to a knocking at your door. It’s soft and subtle, but has been consistent enough to pull you from your sleep. One knock after the other, four beats between each knock. 

Tossing the covers away, you step out of bed. Muscles tough and sore, there’s an unease as you rub the sleep from your eye, feeling as though you’re encumbered in your own head. You take another heavy step, the knocking still not ceasing. One step after another until you reach the handle of the door, and only then does the knocking stop, floorboards creaking as the sound of footsteps shuffles away. 

A minute goes by until you decide to open the door. The hallway is dark, the only light is coming from the window across the hall. You look towards the moon—there she is, full in all of her glory, bringing the spring equinox along with her. You walk towards the window, looking down towards the ground and noting that the snow has completely melted. There’s a dark, shadowy figure in your peripheral that breaks your appreciation for nature. Turning in the direction, there’s nothing in the distance. You follow, passing by the kitchen and making your way to the stairs. The shadow dissolves into the darkness at the top of the stairs, beckoning you to chase after it. 

Once you reach the top of the stairs, there’s a sliver of light peering from the far end of the hallway. The trek over isn’t that long, and once you’re within a few feet you slowly approach the door, tiptoeing your way over. Creeping up to the doorframe, you hold your breath as you peek into the crack of the room. There’s not much to see, just a steady fire and its continuous cracking. Until you hear a moan and your eyes dart to the location of the sound. 

There, you spot Jisung sprawled out on the chaise, half of his limbs hanging off as Minho straddles over him. Attached to his neck, Minho wastes most of his meal, letting blood slip from his mouth and drip down Jisung’s neck. You gasp, fully taken aback by the action you are witnessing. The townspeople were right to warn you—the Count is a monster. Or maybe something worse. 

After the accidental announcement of your arrival, Jisung locks eyes with you. Your gaze, however, is stolen by Minho once he turns around, peering up from his feeding position. He’s wide-eyed with blackness covering the entirety of his eyes, lips and chin stained red with blood. Once Minho realizes it’s you who interrupted his feed, he gives you a wide, bloody smile—showing off the two sets of fangs at the top row of his teeth, the outer fangs just slightly bigger than the inner fangs. For a moment, time seems to slow down; you watch as a small droplet of blood drips from one of Minho’s fangs, and before it fully releases, Minho swipes it with his tongue, licking over his fangs for extra blood. 

Before you can turn back and run, Minho is already behind you in the blink of an eye. 

“Unfortunately, my dear, running is useless,” The Count grabs you by the collar of your pajamas and forcefully drags you into the room. You fight him off but your hits do nothing to him. Letting go of you, Minho pushes you onto the ground. “Stay.”

Jisung stands up from his position laying across the chaise, dipping a rag into a bowl of water sitting on the side table. You watch Jisung with inquisitive eyes as he wrings out the rag, carefully cleaning up the marks and the blood stained to his neck. Minho, meanwhile, is facing the fireplace with his arms crossed and one finger pressed to his lips. Jisung finishes cleaning himself up, and begins moving around to avoid eye contact with you. In horror, you watch as Jisung takes a tarantula out of its cage and places it into his mouth, chewing as he turns to walk out of the room—leaving you alone and helpless in the clutches of Count Minho. 

Minho tsks once, then once more. A hand on his hip as he shakes his head. He extends his arm, quickly swiping away all of the candles and books the rest atop the fireplace as a loud, angry cry escapes from his chest.  

“I thought that maybe,” Minho begins. “Just maybe. I’d have an extra night or two before having to do this to you. You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” 

Minho turns to you. An insincere smile on his face, fangs hidden away but some of Jisung’s blood still covers his face. You spring to your feet, not wanting to stay on the ground when it’s clear that Minho has the advantage. Backing away from him slowly, eyes searching for anything to use as a weapon, though Minho can tell your every move. 

“Did you..did you do that to Seungmin?” You’re near tears. They don’t fall, only brimming along your tear ducts. 

Minho’s jaw clenches at the mention of Seungmin. “You really do care about him, huh? Seungmin this and Seungmin that. I fear your admiration for your lover has made you blind. You have played right into the palm of my hand, little lamb.”

“You want to know where Seungmin is? He’s dead.” Minho laughs. A deep belly laugh. “Though, it wasn’t me who did it.”

“Years ago, I showed Sir Kim something that I thought he could handle, only to find out otherwise. I promised him knowledge, the freedom to view the extensive, valuable, book collection within my library, at any time he chooses; and most importantly, the opportunity to discover something otherworldly—new to him, although very old to me. Something that could provide him everything he’s ever wanted. At least, that’s what this power did for me. Seungmin wanted to become a new man, and I was the only one who could offer that opportunity.”

“Then, two months ago, Seungmin showed up at the door. Exclaiming that while he wasn’t ready in the past, this time he’s ready to surrender his soul. Turns out, it was a ploy to kill me. I should’ve known better, truthfully. Seungmin is smart, almost as cunning as I, and well, he very nearly gave me a run for my money. But let’s just say, how should I put this, I have someone who is willing to do anything I say. Including kill.”

You shake your head in disgust, backing up from Minho; but he pursues.“What are you?”

“I once referred to myself as a God. However, over the years, I realized that I am God. I have seen men with beast-like abilities and looks, men with the ability to rise from the dead, but the simple power of those imbeciles doesn’t even come close to mine. It’s something entirely different.”

“I mean, you read that book didn’t you? A dull-looking half-dead creature with fangs? You’re quite different from Seungmin, but you’re still special. You might not have understood the text, but perhaps, you used context clues?” Minho continues, “You might not have known it, but your fiancé was a part of a very dark world, angel. You see, he was actually the one that wrote the book. And he left you blind to it all, not knowing of his inevitable future. And now, yours.”

Minho winks and moves closer to you with each word, though you take steps back, not wanting to be too close to him. Eventually your back hits the wall and Minho almost pressed against you. His sharp nails come up to your neck, tracing over until he finds exactly what he was looking for, inhaling deeply. 

“Are you going to kill me, too?”

“There,” He taps the tip of his finger against your neck, just above your collarbone. The sharpness of the nail presses into your skin, breaking the initial layer, not deep enough to cause bleeding. “If I put my mouth right here, I could drain all of you in less than six seconds. Kill you? Heavens no, I actually believe that you’re pretty valuable to me.”

Minho looks into your eyes, passing along discomfort in the form of a stare. Then he pouts at you, mockingly. 

“No need to be scared. I mean, it’s not like you can ever leave me, at this point, so it’s best you put your fear aside.” Minho smirks once more. “From the night you’ve arrived, you’ve been drinking my blood. I’m already inside of you. I know every little thought in that pretty little mind of yours, I’m in all of your dreams. And guess what? You will never, ever be able to get rid of me.”

“Now tell me, has Seungmin ever touched you like this?” Minho asks, the tips of his fingers tracing against your neck, palm cupping around your throat, he stands firm behind you. There’s dense heat against Minho’s fingertips and a slight burning sensation from the sharpness of his nails; it’s such an intense feeling, unlike any you’ve experienced before. As electrifying as the feeling of his touch is, it’s also revolting, horrendous. There was a spark whenever Seungmin touched you, but Minho’s touch is different; it burns in all of the right ways. 

“I could give you things Seungmin would have never even dreamt about,” Minho’s voice is soft, silky. The heat of his breath against your skin tickles, but ignites a particular burning of desire. Minho is something similar to the devil and still, despite it all, there’s a familiar heat that creeps up within you. “I could open doors for you that were previously closed. Anything you want, could be yours. All you have to do is accept all of me.”

The hand that had previously been resting against the softness of your belly, is held out for you to accept. You stare down at his hand, biting your lip at the temptation. Minho plants his lips against your neck to give you one small kiss after another. 

For the sake of Seungmin, you want to turn away. If this had been just a few days ago, you would have likely fought in honor of Seungmin. The entire reason you’re even here, in the Count’s castle, is because of Seungmin. And still, in spite of all of that, as much as it makes you feel physically ill, stomach turning at the thought, every single fiber of your being craves Minho. You can feel the heat of your bodies meshed together every time you imagine what it’s like to have him between your legs. When he looks into your eyes, it’s familiar—like home. 

Every alarm is firing off and still, you put your hand in Minho’s—accepting his offer. Minho’s hand interlocks with yours, and you can feel him smile in between his tiny butterfly kisses. His hand holds yours tightly, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Plump lips dragging against your skin, until he stops momentarily—taking a deep breath. Minho lets out a sharp, rich groan; knees throbbing as he bucks into you. And it’s at that moment you can feel Minho’s cock pressed heavily against your ass. Minho holds you against him, hips moving against your ass slightly, as he breathes in your scent. 

The moment is broken once you feel four razor sharp punctures in your neck. Minho’s low, guttural moans vibrate against your skin as his teeth penetrate layers of skin. The feeling is strange—it stings and burns, but also has a light cooling sensation. 

With the more blood Minho takes, the more his eyes fade into black until the whites are no longer exposed. Minho is absolutely captivated by the taste of your blood. It’s absolutely bewitching. He can taste every memory, every inch of trauma and pain, all of your love and most importantly, Minho can taste a bit of your soul—completely unguarded and vulnerable; ready for him to take and do as he pleases with. 

Minho continues draining you of your blood. It’s around this time that your vision becomes blurry, the room grows disorienting, tipping from side to side with each blink. You’re clutching Minho’s hand as tight as you possibly can be, jaw slacking and freely giving away soft moans. Even though he’s drinking from you, Minho never stops the movement of his hips. Hand clutching your own, pressing your arm against your stomach firmly. His other hand is tight on your hip, holding you in place. Somehow, your body feels both light and heavy, like you’re nailed to your spot but also elevated, floating in space. Your eyelids are getting heavier, a milky white film covering your eyes as Minho continues to take and take from you.

By the time you feel like your legs are going to give out, Minho gives up on drinking from you. “I can’t believe you’ve been hidden from me all this time, my little lamb.”

Minho whispers into your ear, voice equal parts soft and sweet. The way he can easily slip between calm and composed and dominant and overbearing is scary. 

“Let’s make this official, what do you say, love?” It’s less of a statement and more of a demand. Minho bites into his wrist, pushing it towards your mouth. But you refuse, attempting to turn away, though Minho does not allow it. Forcing your mouth open with his other hand, fingers dipping into your mouth, watching with a smirk on his face as droplets of his blood drip into your mouth one by one. 

There’s not really any significant taste to Minho’s blood. Indeed, his blood is thicker than water—but also very smooth going down. Minho spins you around, lips fast against yours. This kiss is full of iron and spit, completely messy, tongues fighting against each other. You, surprisingly to Minho, are the one who deepens the kiss further, pressing your body against his. Hands running all over his body, tugging against his clothes. 

You can feel yourself changing rapidly. Inside of you is a particular burning passion that you haven’t felt in years. It’s amplified when Minho’s fingers trickle up and down your sides. When the kiss parts, you and Minho lock eyes. Your chest rises, breathing in deeply because the room has gotten a hell of a lot hotter—or is the oxygen leaving your lungs? 

Minho takes the lead this time, pushing you atop of the sofa. He stands over you almost menacingly, clouds of lust like darkness clouding his eyes. He takes the chest of his shirt and tears it in half with two hands, as easily as it takes one to blink. He lets the shirt fall from his body, pulling his arms from the sleeves. Unbuttoning his pants just slightly before he kneels on the couch beside you. His lips on yours once again, though briefly. Minho takes the fabric of your clothing and tears it in two, just as he did his own shirt. You’re completely exposed to him, completely naked beneath his stare. You put your arms up to shield your indecency, but Minho doesn’t allow it. Taking your wrists in his hands and pinning you to the comfort of the sofa. 

Holding your wrists with one hand, Minho holds your jaw in his other hand. “Wish you could see how heavenly you look right now.” 

At this moment, Minho decides that you’re the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. So does he worship this embodiment of a higher place? Or does he further defile it? Should he ravish you? Perhaps he should take his claim over a body and soul that is now his forever. The worship may come a little later. He looks down at you, a frenzied little fledgling overtaken by uncontainable lust. A near mirroring reflection of sin itself. You pupils are completely blown and the whites of your eyes grow into a red color. He stands tall above you, like a God. Eyes of lust looking back at you, so deeply into the crevices of what’s left in your soul. 

You claw up at Minho, wanting to feel him. Wanting to be comforted by the glory that is Minho. The Ultimate Being—your master. 

“Imagine if Seungmin were to see you like this, intoxicated with such lust—and none of it towards him,” Minho kissed over the spot where he bit you, planting more kisses against your neck. “Would he be pathetic? A coward who cums in his pants at the sight of another man touching you?”

Minho’s lips move from your collarbone to your chest, displaying a range of kisses against your skin. “Or would he demean you for disgracing him in such a way? Would he call you a whore at the sight of you, turning his face in disgust?” 

Minho continues talking in between kisses against your skin. Lips kissing down the valley of your breast as his left hand creeps up to fondle your left breast. You moan at his touch, the coolness of his skin against the heat of yours. Minho looks up at you. “My precious little lamb isn’t a whore, are you?”

You shake your head vigorously at Minho’s statement. He can only laugh at you. He doesn’t believe it and deep inside, you don’t believe yourself either. 

“Your whole purpose of being here was to find your fiancé, and instead, you’re beneath me and dripping onto the chaise. That doesn’t sound like something someone who’s not a whore would do, does it, little lamb?” 

You shake your head in denial. Reaching up to him, dragging the tips of your fingers down his chest. With each exhale, with each minute that goes by, it becomes harder and harder to fight your cravings. Thrusting your hips up, gyrating in the air, trying to entice Minho into touching you. Unable to sort the words in your head to form a coherent sentence. 

“But you’re fine with being a whore aren’t you?” Minho nods, pouting just slightly. When you’re not nodding along with him, he grabs you by your hair, forcing you to nod along with him. “What a good little lamb. From here on out, you’ll only be a whore for me, ok?”

Minho releases your hair from his clutches. Licking his palm, he drags it down from your navel to your cunt, pausing a moment to bury his fingers within the hair on your mound, slightly tugging at it. He teases you for the moment; fingertips feathering lighting against the skin of your inner thighs. He brings his fingers back to your cunt, dragging down your slit, teasing into your wetness. Minho circles over your clit with two fingers, watching your face as you bite your lip. Two of his fingers slowly slip inside of you soon after, thick, already knuckle deep inside of you. 

Minho’s free hand finds a new position, tightening around your neck. The roughness of his hands is missed when he slides his hand down your chest, cupping your breast. He leans down, sucking your nipple into his mouth, coating it with saliva, teeth slightly grazing against it. He continues scissoring his fingers into you, thumb pressing down flat against your clit. Minho moves his thumb in tender circles, still applying pressure. Swollen lips leave a mess of spit on your breast, dripping onto his hand. 

He lifts his head from his original position, eyes covering every inch of you. Once his eyes land on your cunt, Minho kneels—a quick kiss planted at your clit before he attaches his mouth to it, sucking you in. Warm, wet mouth slurping and licking, voice vibrating against your cunt. You moan into your hand, but Minho snatches it away; a quick, stern look up at you. The more he hears your moans, the sluttier and messier that Minho gets; moving away slightly to spit against your cunt, watching as it drips down to his fingers. All before he’s back at it, slurping and moaning against your cunt. 

“Fucking cum,” Minho talks into your cunt. He speaks his demand into you. The climax hits you hard, cum spraying all over Minho’s face, even drenching a bit of his hair. It takes Minho and yourself by surprise, and you’re almost ready to cover your face in your hands, but Minho flashes the most gorgeous smile to you. Face soaked, licking his lips to taste more of you. 

If he wasn’t firm about his desire to devour and conquer you, he was now. Minho fully undresses himself, cock hard and heavy, leaking and aching to be buried inside of you. It’s like your minds come together. Just with a touch you know the things that Minho wants to do to you. Your desires are equal and because of it, you’re a step ahead of him. Your eyes land on him, completely sucking into the visual of his cock. Large but not too veiny, a shade or two darker than the rest of his skin and it’s absolutely glorious. He’s thick, the tip of his cock heavy and shining with precum. It’s hard to keep your appetite for lust contained, and for a moment, you wonder why you’re even holding back—you’ve seen just a glimpse of freedom, is it too much to indulge and savor the taste of what you’re becoming? 

Your movements are faster than what the logical part of your brain can comprehend. One moment you’re spread open and the next, you’re straddling Minho, hand caressing his face. Minho looks at you with such an insatiable gaze. He hadn’t read it in the cards that you could possibly take control of the situation, and it enthralls him—what a wonder you are. You grind against his cock, sliding your slick cunt across his shaft. Pressing your hands to his chest for balance, adjusting the speed of your grinding until you’ve finally found the spot that sets off the fireworks within your brain. Unfortunately, it’s not enough for Minho, grabbing your hips and pressing you onto his cock, controlling your movements. Other than the added pressure, Minho guides your hips just a tad bit faster. 

Sliding up, you reach behind to hold Minho’s cock into your hand. It has a bit of weight to it and is slick with your juices. You tap the head of his cock against your cunt a time or two, then slowly sink down, engulfing him into your cunt. The thickness of his cock gives you a fervent sensation, cunt fluttering to take more of him, inch by inch. 

You throw your head back as you continue riding Minho. There's a brief, but slight sting of pain when you open your mouth to moan. When you look towards Minho, mouth agape, he looks back at you with such adoration and awe—the first time you felt his genuineness for something other than rage.  Minho helps you continue to ride him, his hands on your hips to guide you up and down his cock. You bring your tongue up to lick your lips when you finally notice the feeling of the fangs protruding from your gums. 

The feeling of exhilaration encompasses your whole being. You can’t help but let out a laugh at the current situation. You feel elated. You feel powerful. Pure and utter bliss slowly peeking out beneath the many layers of lust. 

“Bite me, my dear, go ahead.” Minho reassures you, a hand soothingly rubbing against your thigh. 

You indulge in the opportunity. Sinking completely down on Minho’s cock, crying out at the sensation of being filled by him. You press your nose against his neck, breathing in Minho’s scent before you sink your fangs into his skin. You can feel the shift in your eyes when you drink from him. His blood tastes immaculate like this. What divine nectar he carries within. It’s insanely sweet—not exactly in a tart or sugary way; he tastes similar to fresh fruit. 

You continue to drink from him, tongue licking haphazardly, unwilling to let any of Minho’s blood go to waste. 

From his blood to his cock, Minho is all around you. You feel so full of him, and you are in every sense of the word. His arms wrap around you, caging you in as you take your time feeding from him. He moves a hand between the two of your bodies, thumb pressed against your clit to rub in circles. You gentle rock against him, slowly increasing the speed of your hips once you realize you’re fairly latched onto him. Unwilling to free him from your hold, you would die like this if needed. 

Your climax hits you and transforms you into such a state of pure ecstasy. Every nerve in your body is electrified, and the blood of Minho amplifies that. Minho has you under a spell: blood coursing through your veins, cock pinned deep, spilling his cum inside of you. He’s so cold to touch, but you’re both on fire. It’s way too much yet you’re still captivated by him. Sent into overdrive, your body gets heavier—it's hard to control and you continue to take and take from Minho. It’s no problem to him, though; hand on your back to soothe as your body becomes stiff atop of him.

You awake in Minho’s arms, not completely sure of where you exactly are. The second you open your eyes, you’re not nearly ready for how extraordinarily bright the lights in the room are. You groan in response, but Minho is alert to soothe you. 

“Be still, my little flower.” Minho is whispering, purposefully; he knows first-hand how troubling it can be to be reawakened like this. But still, his voice rings around your head. 

How strange. You can hear every little sound a lot clearer, a lot louder. The initially faint crackling of the fireplace now louder than before despite the distance. The heat of the fire reaches you as well, blazing, although it does not stick. The ticking of the clock is a doomful reminder of the passage of time. Then you look at Minho, and you can hear how hollow he is. There’s an absence within him, a huge, dark, cavernous hole. He is nothing more than a host for whatever this disease is that he has given you. A man without a soul. 

And still. He holds the entire world in his hands. 

“There’s so much I have to teach you,” Minho expresses this with great excitement. He presses a chalice of blood to your lips and just a whiff of the smell puts you in a daze; salivating and feigning to taste. “Now here, drink up.”

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・572 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・felix x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・fluff, established relationship, lots of kisses hehe, slightly suggestive

“See you tonight, angel,” Felix says, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. It’s chaste, short, familiar; your favorite form of farewell, exchanged inevitably before you part ways, even for only a few hours.

But this time, Felix doesn’t pull away afterwards, instead remaining so close to you that the tip of his nose is almost brushing yours, and there’s an ineffable glint in his eyes when he speaks again. (You should’ve known you were in danger.)

“Hang on,” he murmurs, his voice low and sweet, and then he leans in again.

When he presses his lips to yours the second time, he moves with an intensity that you aren’t prepared for. You feel his fingers slide over the nape of your neck and tangle gently in your hair; your head tilts backwards from the weight of his kiss, his tongue feather-light against the seam of your lips, his mouth laving over yours as tenderly as if he’s trying to drink you, savor you. Dimly, you feel your waist bump against the kitchen counter, and Felix doesn’t even think when he moves a hand protectively to the small of your back, returning you to your rightful place against his chest.

You are breathless and lightheaded when your boyfriend breaks the kiss, his lips flushed and hair messy, looking like a walking dream.

“S'that a new lip balm flavor?” He asks.

Bastard.

You collect yourself just enough to give him an answer, but it sounds more like a blissful sigh than a spoken response: “Strawberry.”

The smile that crosses Felix’s face is mostly bashful, but you don’t miss the self-satisfied huff of laughter that comes with it.

“I like it,” he hums. “A lot.”

And he kisses you one more time, and then another.

He ends up being late to practice that day, his rushed apologies to Minho falling out of strawberry-tinted lips.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite- 16

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter warnings: Fem/Afab reader, kinda smut, kissing, bathing together, cursing, crying, pet names, fluff. Really not much for this chapter but lemme know if i missed anything important.

WC: 6.2k

Not gonna lie, this is kind of a filler chapter. But I hope yall enjoy nonetheless :)

The rumbling that escaped out of Jeongins chest as he pumped you full would have been off putting to anyone around. They would have found the emittance to be dangerous- vicious almost- and possessive, with how deep and gravely the growl was as he bit into the tender flesh of your shoulder for the second time today. Having spent nearly three days with the young Alpha you knew well enough by now that he was nearing control over himself once again as he finished inside of you, the growl more of a warning he had cum. 

He let your used and bruised body slump into the sheet below you, your arms acting as a pillow under your head. Jeongin draped himself over you, pressing you further into the bed. His knot was still locked tightly inside of you and with each movement from him it rubbed against the sore walls of your core. 

The alpha laid wet kisses along your spine after he licked away the blood from his final claim on you. In total over his rut he had bitten into you eight times, in varying places all over your body. You could imagine you looked like you were mauled by a wild animal, though that wouldn’t be far from the reality. 

“I think it’s finally over, baby.” Jeongin breathed into your ear from above. He had a lightness in his voice you hadn’t heard since before his rut started. “I feel the effects lifting from me as if I can breathe again.”

“M’ so glad, Innie.” You murmured, the pure exhaustion you felt was coming through you clearly. “Now you can be comfortable again.” 

He cooed at you, “Oh omega, you sweet baby. I’m more happy for you. You have been so so good to me the last few days, taking everything I gave you with no complaints, letting me take whatever I needed from your precious body.”  He nuzzled into your neck and hair as he felt his knot begin to deflate. You both grunted as he slowly pulled out of you. His copious amount of cum was seeping out of you and onto the already soiled bed. With how much cum, blood, and sweat was covering it Jeongin knew it would be better to just toss it out at this point. “I can’t express how much it means to me- how much you mean to me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and to our family.” 

You knew it was his post nut clarity that was making him sappy, but you couldn’t stop the sniffles that left you. “Innie… I feel the same way about you and everyone in this pack. You’re my family now and I love you guys.” You strained your neck over to kiss him and he returned the gesture. 

“Even Minho?” He teased, giggling when you rolled your eyes. 

“Hmpf.” You felt your cheeks heat, “Yes, even Minho” You threw a finger at his face menacingly “But don’t you dare say anything!” 

He laughed harder and pulled you closer, kissing your nose. “My lips are sealed. Buuuut, I’m not so sure about the gremlin who's listening outside the door as we speak.” He raised his voice slightly for the last part of his sentence . “You’re not slick, you Pabo! I could smell you from down the hall!”

Your mouth was agape when you heard a shriek- that sounded suspiciously like Jisung- coming from the other side of the door and then the scuff of scurrying feet. “I didn’t even know he was there!” 

Jeongin hauled himself off the bed with a hearty laugh, “He’s been doing that since day one. He comes around periodically, most likely to check on you to make sure I hadn’t eaten you alive. The whole pack does it. You seriously couldn’t tell?” 

You shook your head as you slowly arose from your laid position, wincing when you felt the throb between your legs. “Uh uh, I didn’t notice at all.” 

“I guess I did have you a little… preoccupied.” He had a smirk on his face as if he was proud of himself. “My senses were in overdrive so it made it easier to smell and hear them. My alpha instincts were on a constant high alert.” 

You nodded, “That makes sense. I felt similarly when I was in heat.” You could still feel the pooling liquid seeping out of you, the now coolness of it was making you grimace. “Since your rut is ending, do you think we could please go take a bath? The last few rounds have left me kinda.. Sticky.” 

“Oh yeah!” He slipped off the bed and found a pair of shorts somewhere amongst the wreckage of his room. He put them on and returned back to your side. “Come on, baby. Lemme carry you.” You lifted your weak arms up to him as he bent to scoop you into his hold and you wrapped them around his neck. 

He walked out of his room freely for the first time in a few days. All the other times you had to make sure the coast was clear and that no other pack members were on the same floor. Innies possessiveness and alpha aggression when he was in a rut was on another level so the young alpha generally tried to avoid leaving the room during that time anyways. Thankfully it was not the same for you. During his moments of rest and clarity you had been able to exit the room for bathroom breaks and food. The pack members always greeted you with gentle kisses as they assessed you and you had to assure them you were ok. Innie was particularly rough in his fucking of you after you came back, though; the scent of the other boys on your skin driving him crazy. 

“Wait! Should I put something on? I’m still naked..” You trailed off, biting your lip. 

Jeongin chuckled, “It’s nothing most of them haven’t seen before at this point, baby. Plus we’ll get you some clean pjs after you're all cleaned up.” 

Jeongin carried you into the bathroom and set you on the counter while he went to start heating the water and filling the tub. You watched as he found a few different bottles of bubble bath, and giggled quietly when he opened each one and smelled it before he decided on one he deemed acceptable.

While the tub filled you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t seen your reflection since this morning so you were anticipating seeing the new marks that had been left. You gasped lightly when your eyes found all the dark marks and bites left on your body. Innie really did a number on you, he was unable to control many of his urges when it came to claiming your body. You poked and prodded at a particularly deep bite wound on the side of your left breast. 

‘That's gonna be sore for weeks.’ You thought as you poked. 

“I think that one is my favorite.” Jeongins voice startled you as he rested his head on your shoulder, looking into your eyes through the glass. He had a cheekiness in his tone. “Was my favorite place to bite you. So soft and tender.” He sighed wistfully, as if remembering the moment. 

“Yeah, tender enough that it’s going to take forever to heal.” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He snorted, pulling back. “You’re one to talk. Look at this monster you gave me!” He tilted his head to show you his neck that he had asked you to bite into the previous day. His skin was marred and dark red, showing just how deep your teeth had buried into his flesh. “Stings like a bitch now. But it’s ok, I kinda like it.” He grinned and gave you a clumsy wink.  

You laughed and shoved him playfully, “Ok mister masochist, help me into the tub please.” He obliged your request and hauled you into his arms once more before he lowered you into the heated water. Your head fell back with a deep sigh as you relaxed into the tub. He has chosen a lavender scented soap that was divine. Innie stepped in and settled himself directly behind you. He then leaned your back against his chest, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “Mm this is nice.” 

He hummed in return, leaning over to grab a washcloth. He dipped the cloth into the water then pulled it up, giving it a squeeze to release the water inside. The alpha lovingly ran the cloth over your neck and shoulders, wiping away the remaining blood and saliva. Then once your top half was wiped clean he brought the cloth back down into the heated water, then gently to your core. Your breath hitched when he made contact with your folds. “Shhh baby, I know it hurts. Lemme clean you up, ok?” He whispered reassuringly in your ear. 

You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, trying not to close your legs to keep him from touching you where you were most sensitive right now. He continued his slow and delicate ministrations while peppering kisses on your cheeks every time you let out a pained whimper. Eventually he finished his task, throwing the cloth onto the edge of the tub. Then he just let you rest in the still hot water.  

Sitting there in the tub was peaceful. Neither of you were talking anymore given how the fatigue was catching up to you both. It was nearing nightfall already, you could tell it was late evening by the setting sun casting in the small window. The lavender fragrance of the bath soap combined with the heat of the water was easing the tension in both of you. 

“Ya know, I haven’t had a bath in years.” Innie's voice startled you lightly, just as your eyes were about to droop. He laughed quietly when you jumped. “Sorry, baby. Just reminiscing, don't mind me.”

“Why haven’t you had a bath in so long? Do you not like them?” You asked, keeping yourself awake now. 

“I’ve never been a huge fan of sitting in hot water. Maybe my blood just runs hot. I also think it’s kinda boring. Just doing nothing in a tub. But right now I can honestly say I’m loving being here with you. I’m feeling very relaxed, and happy that I get to be with you.” He had a blush on his cheeks. 

“Aww Innie. You really are such a sweet boy.” Your heart swelled and you beamed at him. “ We can take baths together anytime you want.” You leaned up to kiss his jaw. 

“I’ll be taking you up on that offer, don’t you worry.” He kissed you back. 

“Can I cash in that offer too, baby?” 

You both looked up at the door being cracked open just slightly and a pouty face appearing, looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

“Hyunjin, what the fuck are you doing in here? Get out!” Jeongin groaned, annoyed now by the new presence. 

“No! It’s not fair! You’ve hogged her for days! I missed my baby!” The beta whined, his pout growing even bigger. “Plus you left the door unlocked so really this is your fault.” 

Jeongin scoffed, “You still got to see her everyday, your stink was all over her every time she came back to my room. And what about me?! Didn’t you miss me?!” He pulled you closer to his body, making the water slosh off the side of the tub.

“Of course I missed you, Innie. We all did.” Hyunjin replied with an eye roll. “But I’m not mated with you now am I? No, I’m claimed by my baby and now it’s my turn with her.” He skulked closer into the bathroom and grabbed the towel that was left on the counter. “So give her here.” He looked at the alpha expectantly as he held out his arms for you. 

Jeongin grumbled a whine, “Hyunnng you’re being so mean to me.” Still, he scooted you forward slightly so Hyunjin could grab you. Jeongin gave you a final kiss, “ I love you, I’ll see you in a while, baby.” He whispered to you before he handed you over to the beta. 

“Love you Innie.” You replied then let Hyunjin pull you from the tub and into his arms, where he promptly wrapped you in the big fluffy towel and whisked you out of the bathroom. 

Once you were out of the bathroom Hyunjin nuzzled into you with a purr as he carried you to your room. “Mm I missed you so much baby.” 

You giggled, his hair tickling your neck. “Missed you too Jinnie.” 

He set you gently on your bed as he ran the towel over your form, being mindful of the fresh bites and bruises. He bristled when you winced, “Sorry, love. Innie sure did a number on you, huh?” 

You gave a weak chuckle, “Yeah, he got a little rowdy. He always apologized afterwards so I don’t mind.” 

Hyunjin went into your wardrobe after he wiped you down and pulled out some pjs for you. He helped you dress even when you insisted on being able to do it yourself. “I wanna take care of you, baby. Let me help you.” You couldn’t deny him when he pouted like that, batting his eyelashes at you. 

He had put you in a tank top and panties, then he turned away to get you out some pj pants. That small distraction was all that was needed for the peeping tom at the door to spring in. Hyunjin screamed in surprise as Jisung swung the door open with a lightning quickness and launched for where you were seated on your bed. You yelped a laugh when he scooped you into his embrace. “Ahh Jisung! What are you doing?!” 

“Hi baby.” He grinned as he stood up now with you in his arms. He smooched you on the lips.He gave Hyunjin a glance “Sorry, gotta blast!” Then he sprinted out of the room, holding you.

“No! Jisung you asshole, I was having my time with her!” Hyunjin screeched as he chased the younger beta. Jisung was running down the hall towards the stairs cackling loudly. You were holding on for dear life, a nervous grin on your face. “Stop! I’m serious! It’s not fair!” 

“It’s my turn now! You had yours, I missed her too!” 

“I had a whole 6 minutes with her!” 

“Sucks to suck!”  Jisung had gotten down the stairs and had barely made it around the corner when he ran into another figure. Jisung nearly fell backwards at the impact. He ended up backing up into Hyunjin who had been right on his tail. 

Amidst the whole debacle, it was Changbin who grabbed you from Jisungs falling form. Jisung had run into him when he was coming to see what the commotion was. “What a pleasant surprise.” The alpha grinned. “Nice to see you, baby.” 

You giggled, letting him take you. “Hi Binnie.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Changbin! Give her back, it's my turn.” Jisung whined like a child when he was able to set himself upright again. 

Hyunjin pushed him with a scoff, folding his arms. “You stole her from me, asshat. It’s my turn.” 

“Sucks to suck, right guys?” Changbin snickered, then turned and walked down the hall. 

“Boys I’m not a toy! There are no turns.” You protested from your place in Chanbins arms. Your pout was light; you couldn’t be mad at any of them for this game of toss around. You had missed them all so much, even though you saw them all briefly during the last few days. 

“Of course you're not a toy, baby. These young boys need to learn some manners when it comes to a beautiful woman.” Changbin threw a playfully dirty look behind him at the betas who trailed behind. 

“Are you gonna be the one to teach them, Binnie?” You teased, nuzzling into him. 

He flexed with you still in his hold, boasting of his strength. “Who better than a strong alpha like myself?” You laughed into his neck. “Take notes, boys.” 

Changbin carried you all the way through the house and out the back door onto the back patio. The outside string lights were on, illuminating the patio as the sun continued to fall further from view and the night settled in.  The grill was on and there were various plates of vegetables scattered around the table next to it. The air was hot and mildly humid. Summer was definitely here now.

 Leaning on the banister next to the grill was Chan and Minho. Chan's face lit up at the sight of you coming out the door. Minho couldn’t hide the twitch of his lips when he saw you, his delight peaking through. 

“There's my love. Was wondering when you would come down and join us.” Chan approached you and Changbin as the latter plopped down on the outdoor sofa with you in his lap. Chan cupped your cheek and leaned in close to you, rubbing noses with you. He gave you a gentle kiss with a smile. Changbin huffed in mild jealousy, pulling you even closer. “Oh come on Bin, our girl deserves all the love we can give. Why be stingy, hm?” Chan hummed with a laugh as he pulled back.

“Exactly!” Jisung came crashing down onto the furniture beside you on the right, grabbing onto your arm attempting to pull you away. “You read my mind, oh wonderful leader.” 

Hyunjin was the next to speak up. “ You literally stole her from me! If anyone is stingy it’s you Ji!” He stomped his foot petulantly before coming over and sitting on the left side and grabbing one of your legs.

All this tugging was starting to make your wounds hurt, so you tentatively and quietly tried to interject, “Umm guys, can you please be easy on m-”  

“Jinnie, you went and took her right from Jeongin! Don’t act all high and mighty, I see through that shit!” Jisung cut you off, seemingly unable to hear your timid voice. He pulled on your arm a little harder. 

Changbin squeezed you to keep you in his hold, making you wince. “ You guys are children.” He rolled his eyes. 

Hyunjin scoffed, his grip accidentally digging into one of your darker bruises. “ You’re one to talk, you ripped her right from Ji.” 

“I saved her from you idiots!” 

You felt your eyes start to water from the pain and from being ignored. You felt too timid to interrupt them again so you just took it. Though, you didn’t have too for long. 

A deep growl halted all the boys in their actions. All of you swiveled your eyes to Chan who still stood a few feet away, now with a menacing look on his face. His eyes were narrowed at the three boys who held you captive. “That is enough from you three. Can’t you see your fucking hurting her?” He stalked closer and reached down for you. 

Immediately they all let go of you. Changbin spoke up, “ I’m so sorry baby, we should have been gentler on you.” 

“Especially since you just got done with Innie. I forgot about your wounds baby I’m sorry. Hyunjin apologized sheepishly. 

Jisungs lip wobbled as tears welled up in his own eyes. “M sorry, please don’t hate me.” 

“It’s ok, I’m not mad. And I could never hate you, Ji.” You wiped your tears once Chan had you secured in his arms. He still had a pissed off crease to his brows. You brought your thumb up to smooth over his brows, smiling when he kissed your palm. He carried you to the picnic table they had set up, placing you down on the bench. He straddled the bench and had you lean against him. 

“Mm much better, huh omega?” He hummed, kissing your head and holding you close. 

“Yes alpha.” You relaxed against him. You could hear his heartbeat from where you rested. It was calming. “ I’m gettin tired, Channie.” 

He chuckled, “I would be surprised if you weren’t tired, my love. You have been kept very busy lately. You gotta stay up for a while though, dinner is almost ready. The pack has been excited to share a meal together as a whole again.” You nodded, trying to keep yourself awake. 

Looking around you noticed how much food had already been laid out. There was a pile of kabobs, fresh veggies and a plate with some chicken. You looked up as Minho brought another plate full of done food and set it on the table in front of you. 

He gave you a teasing smile, “Hi baby. Welcome back.” 

You couldn’t hide your grin, reaching a cautious hand out to him, unsure if he would grab it. “Hi Min. Glad to be back.” Thankfully, he did. He held on to your hand for a second, running his thumb along the skin of your knuckles. Then he brought those same knuckles up to his lips, placing a kiss there. It was so soft you almost didn’t feel it. It only lasted a moment though, before he let you go and returned back to the grill.  

You let your hand drop with a sigh. Sometimes you wondered where you stood with Minho. One moment it seemed like he hated you, the next it was like he cared for you. Almost as if you were lovers. The back and forth from him was giving you whiplash to say the least. Chan was behind you, running his lithe fingers along your exposed thighs. “Hey now, no more thinking for tonight. Just relax, omega. I got you, Alphas got you.” 

You nodded and were going to reply when you were distracted by the sliding door flinging open. Felix stepped out holding a plate, Seungmin was right behind him also holding a big plate. “Ok this is the last of it!” Felixs eyes found yours quickly and he shoved the plate he held at Minho, who cursed him out for almost dropping it. He scurried over to you quickly, kneeling down to be beside you. “Y/n, baby. Are you ok?” He looked deep into your eyes, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Mhmm, I’m fine Felix. Just really sleepy.” You shrugged sleepily, giving him a kiss. 

Seungmin sat down in front of you with a snicker. “Oh I bet you're really exhausted after what Innie did to you, huh baby? If the sounds that came outta his room was any indication.” He deepened the pitch of his tone, “ ‘Oh omega I’m gonna ruin you, I’m gonna breed you and make you mine.’” He imitated the youngest pack member, adding in fake growls. 

“Seungmin!” You pushed him away as he laughed, “Don’t be vulgar.” 

He leaned in real close with a smirk, “I thought you liked it when I talked dirty to you, puppy.” 

You stuttered, turning your face away from all the boys. “Well… I- um..” You felt your face heat up as you tried to come up with a witty response but fell on none. “ Well you're a jerk so, blah.” 

You felt Chan laugh from behind you, clearly he was amused at your turmoil. “You’re so cute, omega. So feisty.” 

“Don’t you start making fun of me too!” You craned your neck back to see him biting his lip to hold back his chuckles. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

He held one hand up in defense, “ I am on your side, baby. But I also know he’s telling the truth, so why fight it.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms but wincing when you accidentally brushed against the deep bite on your breast. Felix was the one to notice your discomfort. “What’s wrong? Are you hurting?” 

You rubbed the spot that was sore, “It’s nothing, just a leftover battle wound from helping Innie.” 

Seungmin was still sat in front of you and he had zero hesitation before he reached for the bottom of your shirt and yanked it up to expose your chest to him. 

You gasped, trying to pull it back down, “Minnie! What the fuck?!” 

He smacked your hand away as he tried to locate the area that was bothering you. “Oh stop, we’ve seen you naked before there's no sense in being shy. Let me see what’s bothering you.” 

Chan soothed you by pumping out calming pheromones and rubbing your back. He wanted to see the damage himself anyways. 

You slowly felt yourself calm down, giving in to the boys around you and dropping your arms. “Thata girl.” Your alpha praised you with a kiss on the back of your head. You had calmed down so much in fact that you hadn’t even noticed your outburst has caused every member present to stare at the scene unfolding, each of them eyeing your now exposed breasts. Chan continued to pour praises and sweet words into your ears as the beta in front of you got to work inspecting.

Seungmin held your shirt up with one hand, while the other was prodding around at your fresh bites and marks. His gaze was searing into you in a scrutinizing way, as if he was meticulously counting each and every tooth mark and finger print that lingered on your body. He clicked his tongue when he saw just how deep some of these bites went, “Jesus, pup. You got fucked up didn’t you? Poor thing.” He had a sympathetic tone to his voice.

When his nails accidentally dug into the wound on your breast you winced and squirmed. Felix - who was still beside you- ran his hands comfortingly along your exposed thighs. “You’re ok, lovely.” He reassured you the best he could, but if he was being honest with himself; seeing you sitting here almost naked, just in your frilly pink panties, was making him drool. He risked a glance over at the other boys and could see the same thing for them. 

Jisung and Changbin both had their hands in their lap, as if trying to conceal their erections. Hyunjin had a proud smirk on his face (he had picked her panties out, afterall) as he bit his lip. The only one not ogling the omega was Minho, who had his back turned to the scene but Felix could see the tight grip the elder beta kept on the spatula. 

Chan and Seungmin had total concentration on your body, both looking you over for the particularly painful ones. Everyone was so invested in you that no one heard the door slide open again until the youngest alphas' voice startled them. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Jeongin had stepped out to join the pack, his hair was still wet from the bath and he was barefoot. “Is this some kind of weird orgy?” 

Seungmin let your shirt fall back onto your torso with a scoff, “You wish, you sick pervert. We were examining all the marks you left on her.” 

Jeongin rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Ha uhh yeah, I got a little carried away.” He came to your side, pushing Felix out of the way. The beta responded with a quick ‘Watch it, asshole!’ before he moved out of the way and went to sit at the table. Jeongin crouched down beside you and took your hand, “How are you feeling, baby? Still feelin sore?” 

You nodded, “Uh huh. ’m also really worn out. I need a nap.” 

Chan cooed at you from behind you, “My poor girl, you have to eat a full meal first. We gotta get you to heal up.” 

“Good thing it’s all ready now then.” Minho brought the last big platter of grilled meats and veggies to the table. He set a plate down in front of you and began to serve you your food first. He gave you a little of everything. “Here you go, be careful it's hot.” 

“Thank you Min.” You grinned appreciatively. He nodded in return, setting a lemonade down in front of you as well. 

“Come and get your food, ya filthy animals.” Minho called to the other pack mates who weren’t yet around the table. For that comment he received a few middle fingers (that he just laughed off evilly). 

After everyone was sat and served, it really dawned on you how much you enjoyed this life. The teasing and comradery was something that was still taking you some time to get used to, but it felt more like home each and everyday. While you ate Chan kept one arm around your back, keeping you close to him while he ate with the other hand. Seungmin was to your left, keeping his hand on your thigh under the table. Changbin was seated across from you playing footsie with you under the table. 

It seemed they all had their own ways of wanting to be close to you. The realization made a wide grin appear on your face. 

“What's got you so happy over there, sweet girl?” Felix brought you down out of your own little world. 

“Nothing,” You replied, crinkling your eyes at him. “Just thinking about how happy I am here with you all and how much I love you. ” 

The silence after your statement was deafening. There was a beat where no one said anything, and for a split second you felt your heart drop into your stomach. A creeping feeling of doubt began to wash over you, but it was quickly erased by the  loud chorus of “AWWWWW”s that flooded out of each boy. Suddenly you were swarmed by the pack, ending up in the middle of a huge pile of man. The sudden overwhelm of all their scents was beginning to make you dizzy. 

“You’re so cute, omega.” Chan had a cheekiness to his tone as he giggled in your ear from behind. 

You felt a wetness falling onto your chest, the drops seeping in through the shirt you wore. And then you heard the sniffles. “Ji… Please don’t cry. You’re gonna make me start crying.” You could already sense the tears welling up on your lash line, threatening to fall at any moment. 

“I can’t help it.” He wailed, burying himself into your shirt even further. “You make me- us- so happy, baby. Plus it’s not just me crying! Look at Lix and Hyun, they're crying too!” 

Now that he mentioned it you could faintly hear the little hiccups and sniffs from beside you. 

“Don't bring us up when you know we’re emotional, you dick head!” Hyunjin shrieked, pulling Jisung away so he could now hold you closer. 

“Alright guys, let’s get off of our baby. She’s still sore, ya know.” Chan was casual with his demand, being the first to pull back from you. 

“Yeah thanks to Jeongin.” Seungmin snickered and eyed the youngest Alpha. 

Jeongin cast his gaze down quickly, riddled with sudden nerves, then looked back at you with an apologetic crinkle of his eyes. “Sorry again, omega.” 

You reached your hand out to him to take, “Innie you don’t need to apologize to me anymore, or at all. I took care of you like a good omega does for her alpha. Plus, I had a lot of fun with you. You made me feel… really good.  ” You beamed at him to show you meant every word. 

He grabbed your hand, ignoring the hollering that erupted from the rest of the teasing pack. He sent you a wink before he leaned in to give you a peck on the lips. 

“Our little boy is a man now!” Changbin laughed loudly as he gave Innie a hard pat on the back. 

“Hyung, I’ve always been a man. At least more of a man than you.” Jeongin dodged the smack that was sent his way from Changbin, cackling with amusement at the elder alpha’s displeased huff. 

“You wish you were half as man as I am!” Changbin tried to puff out his chest to give a more dominant display, but all it did was make everyone laugh louder. 

“And you wish you were half the man that Channie Hyung is.” Felix added to the banter, looking to get a rise out of Bin. 

Changbins chest deflated as he pondered the statement. Then he shrugged in agreement, “Yeah pretty much.” 

“Ok ok, If we’re done eating we should clean this up. All this food left out will attract bugs.” Chan stood from his place, grabbing both his and your plates in his hands. He smooched your cheek as he stood, “sit tight love.” 

“I want to help!” You protested, eager to help the pack with even the simplest tasks. 

“You are helping. You’re sitting there looking pretty for us.” Minho patted your head as he passed you, carrying a large platter back into the house. 

You felt your cheeks heat up, turning away from him so he didn’t see the pleased look on your face. 

It was a few minutes later that the whole table was cleared and cleaned up. Chan came back for you and held out his arms for you. You lifted yours so he could grab you into his hold. “Let’s get you to bed, omega. I know how tired you must be especially now that you’d have a full meal.” 

Now that he mentions it you were starting to feel that fatigue from earlier. You covered your yawn with your hand, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah I think I’m ready for bed, Alpha.” 

He passed by the kitchen so you could say your good nights to the other boys. “Goodnight guys. I’ll see you in the morning.” You offered them a lazy smile. 

“Damn, is it that time already? I feel like I haven’t gotten to see you at all.” Jisung pouted, coming in to kiss you. 

“I know I’m sorry, ‘m just really tired.” You were starting to feel guilty about needing to sleep. ‘He’s right, they have barely seen me. Maybe I should just stay up for a while.’ 

There was a sudden twinge of sourness that was leaving your body, your contrition coming through clearly for all to smell.  

Jisung was speedy to backpedal his words, “No, it’s totally ok! You should definitely get your rest!” His boba eyes were wide and his hands were raised in a defensive way. “In fact,” He deepened his voice to act intimidating, “It is my command that you get some good rest, asap.” 

Chan snorted a laugh and there were a few scoffs and chuckles from the other boys. You had hid your smile behind your hand, you couldn’t help but feel amused at his phony display of dominance. “As you command, master.” 

Jisung visibly gulped at the name, but his reaction was nothing compared to the reaction Minho was having, the beta practically choking on his spit. He attempted to cover it up by pretending he accidentally ran into the counter when he received a side eye from Hyunjin. Minho's mind went racing at your comment, liking the way the title sounded on your lips. 

“Say goodnight to Baby, I’m taking her to bed now.” Chan brought you to each of them so they could all give you small kisses and wish you goodnight. Then he swiftly carried you up the stairs and to his bed. You will never get over how strong he is, carrying you like you weigh no more than a teddy bear.  

He set you down and covered you in the blankets. He then climbed in next to you and cradled you in his arms. You purred affectionately as you nuzzled into him. You felt instantly soothed at being back in his embrace, in the bed you share together. The alpha felt the exact same way. He was more than thrilled to have you back with him. One day he could handle, but the three days were borderline torturous. 

“Channie..” You whispered, your voice quiet as it cut through the silence within the darkness. 

“Mhm” He answered, his own eyes beginning to droop. He hadn’t slept much the last few nights, too anxious to get any real rest. 

“I love you.” 

“Mm, I love you more.” 

The both of you were out like a light.

Minho's mind has been stewing for a few days. Ever since he met Changbins new friend, Wooyoung, something hadn’t felt right. It felt like he was missing something. 

He remembers the encounter very clearly. The beta man had been friendly, almost too friendly. And very personable. He had answered each of Minhos questions, none of which seemed to raise any alarms. 

‘Where are you from?’ ‘Goyang, it’s a city up north.’ 

‘What brings you to town?’ ‘Here to help out my uncle.’ 

‘Whos your uncle?’ ‘Park Jin-young.’ 

‘Are you mated to an alpha?’ ‘Yes, his name is San. We've been mated for a few years.’ 

‘Where is he at?’ ‘He’s back at home, taking care of the cats.’

All of his answers seemed to check out. Though to Minho, the answers did seem a little too clean. There was just something that was off. Something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. He knew he would have to be diligent going forward. He didn’t want to say anything to anyone about it yet, in fear of being completely wrong. But he would hold this thought close to his chest. 

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan

Taglist- Closed

@chxnb97 / @butterflydemons / @zaggprincess2 / @stellasays45 / @uhhheather / @walnutspie /  @a-mistake-tbh / @meowmeeps / @realrintaro / @ihrtlix / @raehawthorne / @juskz / @freckleboilix / @marvelsmarauder / @0325tiny / @iyeeeverydee / @stars-garden / @boi-bi-ahaha / @gini143 / @queenmea604 /  @palindrome969 / @f9clementine / @theysaidhush / @kpophosblog / @usercaiskz / @honeym0chi / @nobody3210 / @changbinswife10789  @5starluvr / @neyangi / @jiminssluttyminx / @ayejaii / @iknowleeknow/ @jeonginnieswifey / @catlove83 / @upsidedownchaire / @emmxxsworld / @manuosorioh / @igetcarriedawaywithyou / @blondechannie / @woozixo / @ilovejeongin007/ @yaorzu-blog / @theydy-madamonsieur / @jehhskz / @feybin / @rylea08 / @sebastianswhore13 / @kihyuns-military-wife / /@lilyuwon @xx3rachaslutxx / @hahhahahjakakla / @skzstaykatsy / @zerefdragn33l / @yuhhhhh-slay / @im-sinking-in-mud / @n0y4 / @writhingwrecked / @silentreadersthings / @softkisshyunjin

the bolded names couldn’t be found for some reason 🥲🥲 sorry y’all

[dwaekkicidal]

Kiss it Better

˚ʚLee Know x Gn!readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Minho has a rough day at the company and comes home exhausted, craving your loving.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: <1k (~650)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: nothing its just tooth rotting fluff

˚ʚ���ɞ˚ notes: double post because ty for 100 followers :3 also max this is ur fault (AGAIN LMAO) im so weak at the idea of this help

edit: MAX POSTED HER OWN VERSION OF THIS PLEASE GO READ IT

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Not long after his messages, Minho waddles into your shared apartment. Kicking his shoes off and throwing his keys on the kitchen table without any care. You peak your head out of the bedroom at the sound of the front door closing. When his eyes meet yours, you see the deep scowl on his face, but his eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. You smile softly and make grabby hands at him before ducking back into the room to start the shower for him. In seconds he’s following you and undressing through the doorway, desperate to get his sweaty clothes off.

You wait patiently on the bed and scroll through your phone. It doesn’t take long for him to return in his boxers, towel drying his hair on his way to the bed. Your phone is quickly tossed to the side and you pull him into the bed with you, watching as he throws himself on his stomach and groans into the sheets. You hold back a giggle at the sight and opt to run your hands down his bare back. He shudders but you can see him physically relax when your hands lightly massage his upper arms. He turns his head to the side, looking back at you as much as he could without straining himself.

“You wanna talk about it? Let me take care of you tonight baby..” You whisper out, the softness in your voice making his eyes shutter close as he nods lightly. You swiftly move to straddle his thighs, placing a kiss on the back of his shoulder and trailing down very slowly as he speaks up. He goes on for a while, explaining how the new choreography they were learning was extremely draining, telling you about the argument he got into with one of the members, and whining about the quality of the dinner he had at the cafeteria. He goes into light details about every other little thing that chipped at his happiness for the day while you trail kisses down his bare back. Your soft hands massaging up from his arms to his shoulder blades and you hum in response to every experience he lists, placing extra kisses for each as a reward.

By the time he’s done telling you about his day, he’s all but a puddle underneath you. Eyes shut and muscles completely relaxed. You back away to sit up, softly dragging your nails up and down his back to keep the attention on him. A wide smile spreads on your face as your eyes catch one of the cutest sights you think you’ve ever seen. Soonie lays next to Minho’s face, licking his hand as he softly caresses his baby. Not far away, Doongie and Dori are laying near each other and sleeping against your pillows. You carefully reach for your phone and take a picture, before laying beside your boyfriend and Soonie.

“Feel better?” Your voice startles him, his eyes closed and breathes lighter than normal. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes to respond with a quiet “Mmmg..”

You get up and walk over to your closet to grab a blanket, not wanting to disturb any of them by going under the sheets. You pick the softest one you own before returning. Soonie is gone when you kneel on the bed and you could almost thank him for the chance to be close to Minho.

You lay your head on the empty space left on the pillow and watch as Minho drags himself up to you, shoving his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. Your hands trail through his hair, massaging his scalp softly as he drifts off.

The two of you fall asleep like this, tangled in each other. There’s a quiet “Thank you" and "I love you so much.” from Minho as he finally falls asleep. You respond with a soft kiss to his forehead, drifting off shortly after.

[minhosbitterriver]

𑁍ࠬܓ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( stray kids )

❛ In which the members of Stray Kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This request was absolutely devastating to write, thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N has passed away, each member is a single father still in love with you, mentions of grief, some of the kids fall under the LGBTQ+ community.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

Chan's office was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the desk lamps, casting a warm yet somber light across the room. The gentle hum of the night time silence was broken only by the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his three-year-old daughter, who lay peacefully on the worn leather couch. Her tiny face, so serene in slumber, was a haunting mirror of your beautiful features, stirring a profound ache in Chan's heart.

As he watched her, tears began to silently trace their way down his cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his sorrow and longing. He could still hear your final, trembling words: "Love her twice as much in my absence." The memory was a dagger, twisting with the relentless guilt and grief that had become his constant companions. The sight of his daughter's innocent face, so reminiscent of you, only deepened his anguish.

Today had been especially trying. Chan had promised his little girl a joyous outing to the park, a precious respite from his hectic work schedule. But the day took an unexpected turn when Changbin called in a panic, frantically searching for the nearly completed recording of their latest song. What Chan had hoped would be a swift resolution morphed into hours of desperate searching, only to end in the devastating realization that they would have to begin the recording anew.

All the while, his daughter’s patience wore thin. She had no toys, no distractions, just the suffocating boredom of waiting. Her disappointment was palpable, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Chan felt like he was failing her, failing in the promise he had made to you. Driven by the need to make amends, he gently woke his daughter. Her initial crankiness gave way to curiosity as he apologized for breaking his promise and proposed a sleepover at home. Movies, games, a fort, and endless cuddles — her eyes sparkled at the thought, and her frown dissolved into giggles.

At home, they transformed the living room into a magical fortress of pillows and blankets, a sanctuary just for them. They watched animated tales, played games, and reveled in the simple joy of being together. Wrapped in the cozy embrace of their fort, she eventually succumbed to sleep once more, nestled against him. Her hair, a tousled mess, and a small trail of drool on his shirt were endearing reminders of her tender age and boundless trust in him.

Chan held her close, his heart swelling with love and a bittersweet yearning. She was the living embodiment of his heart, and as he gazed at her, he whispered a vow into the stillness of the night. He promised to love her with all his might, carrying the weight of both his love and the part of you that would forever reside in their lives. In that quiet moment, amidst the echoes of his promises, he felt a fragile sense of peace, knowing that as long as he held her, he was keeping your memory alive.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

Minho lay in the dim, soft glow of his bedroom, shadows whispering across the walls as the twins slept peacefully beside him. Their tiny forms had claimed your side of the bed, filling the void where your presence once brought warmth and comfort. The night he returned home with the babies, he had attempted to sleep alone, but the emptiness was unbearable. He tossed and turned, haunted by the silence, until one of the babies began to cry, inevitably waking the other. In his desperation to soothe them, he gathered every pillow he could find, crafting a makeshift crib in his bed. Their delicate features softened in the calm of his presence, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

As Minho gazed at their angelic faces, hands entwined even in slumber, his heart ached with the weight of your absence. How could he begin to process this loss? You had spent almost ten months nurturing these little miracles, only to be taken away before you could revel in the beauty of their existence. Ten months of creating life, and you would never witness the serene way they held hands in their sleep. Ten months of dreams and hopes, and you would miss their first birthdays, graduations, weddings. It was unbearably cruel, and Minho’s soul was tormented by the thought.

You wouldn’t even be here to laugh about the pregnancy mix-up that had both of you convinced it would be a boy and a girl, only to welcome two beautiful baby girls into the world. His friends had offered to stay and help, but he had declined, needing the solitude to grapple with his grief. Now, in the stillness of the night, he questioned if he had made the right choice.

Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks as the full weight of his new reality settled over him. He was to raise these precious little princesses on his own, and the responsibility felt crushing. Yet, as he watched their peaceful slumber, he knew he had to summon every ounce of strength for them. They were his world now, the living, breathing remnants of your love. He vowed to cherish them, to love them fiercely, and to guide them through life with unwavering dedication, for they were all he had left of you, and he was all they had.

In the hushed silence, he whispered promises into the night, pledging to be the best father he could be. He would ensure they knew how deeply you loved them, even if you couldn’t be there to tell them yourself. And as he held them close, feeling the rise and fall of their tiny chests, a fragile peace washed over him. He knew that in every laugh, every tear, and every milestone, you would be there in spirit, guiding him, loving them, always.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the park as Changbin and his 13-year-old son sat on a weathered wooden bench, savoring their ice cream. The park buzzed with the laughter of children, their joy mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Parents lounged on the grass, basking in the last light of day, while Changbin watched his son’s face light up with a blush as he received a message.

Changbin couldn’t resist teasing him. "Who’s got you smiling like that?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

His son’s cheeks reddened further, and he looked away, trying to hide his smile. "Just a girl from school," he mumbled, glancing at his phone. "She texted to congratulate me on today’s soccer game."

Changbin’s interest was piqued. "A girl, huh? Do you like her?" he inquired gently, but his son just rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After a while, his son broke the comfortable silence with a question that took Changbin by surprise. "Dad, how did you know Mom was the one for you?"

Changbin's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and nostalgia. He took a deep breath, the memory washing over him like a tender wave. "Well," he began softly, "it was before you were born. Your mom and I had only been dating for a few months. One evening, we decided to take a ride on my motorcycle to grab some food. On the way back, she spotted a bookstore and got all excited. She tapped my shoulder and pointed it out, her eyes sparkling like a child's. I couldn't say no to that."

He smiled, lost in the memory. "We stopped, and I handed her my card, telling her to get whatever she wanted. She promised she’d come out empty-handed, but I knew better." He chuckled, remembering your sheepish yet triumphant expression as you emerged with a bag hidden behind your back. "She ended up buying two books and couldn’t stop talking about them, her excitement contagious. When I told her I was glad she found something, she did this little dance of joy before climbing back onto the bike. She had to hold the bag since her backpack was already stuffed with our food, but she was too happy to care."

Changbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "That’s when I knew she was the one. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was her pure joy in the little things, her passion for life. I wish you could have known her. She loved you so much, even before you were born."

His son’s eyes mirrored his own longing and admiration. "I wish I’d known her too," he said softly. "My goal in life is to find my soulmate, like you found Mom. I want to love someone as much as you loved her."

Changbin’s heart ached with pride and sorrow. "You deserve to have someone by your side for a long time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "Who knows, maybe this girl from school is your one."

His son groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he nudged Changbin, causing his ice cream to topple onto the ground. Changbin laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the park. His own ice cream slipped from his grasp, joining his son’s on the pavement, and they both burst into laughter, the joy of the moment a soothing balm to their hearts.

In that golden hour, surrounded by the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared memories, Changbin felt a profound sense of peace. Despite the heartache and loss, he and his son would continue to find love and joy in the little things, just as you had taught him. And in those moments of laughter and connection, he felt your presence with them, a silent guardian watching over their journey, smiling at their shared happiness.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with memories, each piece of furniture and every stroke of paint a testament to the love and labor he had shared with you. His heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia as he looked around, his mind filled with the echoes of laughter and the whispers of cherished moments.

He remembered the countless hours spent building the furniture, the frustration and triumph mingling as he struggled with stubborn screws, while you sat nearby, reading the instructions with a patience that never failed to calm him. The nursery walls, painted in a tapestry of happy themes, bore the marks of your combined artistic talents, creating a sanctuary for the new life you both awaited with eager anticipation.

The night he returned home with the baby, your absence a gaping void beside him, was etched into his soul. He had sat in the rocking chair, the one he had bought especially for you, cradling the fragile bundle in his arms, paralyzed by the fear of being alone. Many nights, he had dozed off in that chair, too afraid to leave its comforting embrace, haunted by the silence that your departure had left behind.

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the day he found your child drawing on the walls, their tiny hands busy creating a colorful mural over your delicate paintings. It had pained him to see your work altered, but the sight of their concentrated little face, so much like yours, had softened his heart. He had chosen to let them be creative, to express themselves freely, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of you.

He thought of the time his six-year-old had cried in his arms, their tiny body trembling with confusion and hurt because they didn't fit in with the boys or the girls. Hyunjin had held them close, whispering reassurances, his heart breaking at the familiar pain. It had been a long journey, but he had worked tirelessly to make their home a sanctuary of love and acceptance.

The memories came in a flood, each one a cherished gem: the summer in middle school when they returned home with bags of new clothes and put on a fashion show, proudly displaying their androgynous style; the pride parade, where he meticulously placed sticky rainbow gems on their face, their giddy excitement lighting up the day; and finally, the day they graduated and moved out, leaving behind an empty room filled with the ghosts of the past.

Tears rolled down Hyunjin’s face as he sat in the rocking chair, now old and creaky, thinking of all the moments he had cherished yet wished he could have shared with you. The weight of the memories pressed down on him, a heavy, inescapable burden.

Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him from his reverie. He hastily wiped his tears and saw it was a FaceTime call from his child. He answered, and their beaming face filled the screen, the excitement in their eyes mirrored by the twinkling fairy lights in their new apartment's bedroom.

“Hey, Dad! Look at my new room!” they exclaimed, panning the camera around to show off their new space, their voice bubbling with pride and joy.

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with pride and love. “It looks amazing, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you,” they confessed, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can we spend the first night together, through the phone?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, trying to mask his lingering sadness. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving out?”

They laughed, a sound that was pure and unfiltered joy. “Maybe, but I know you’re in my old room crying already.”

He laughed too, the heaviness lifting just a bit. “You got me there.”

They didn’t hang up, staying connected through the screen as the night deepened. Hyunjin lay back in the rocking chair, his child propped up in their new bed, both finding solace in the familiar presence of each other. As they talked and laughed, Hyunjin realized that though you weren’t physically there, your spirit lived on in these moments, in the love that continued to bind them together. And for now, that was enough.

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

Jisung found his seven-year-old child hidden within the treehouse that the three of you had built together. This small wooden sanctuary, once filled with laughter and joy, now bore the heavy weight of sorrow. They were still in their funeral attire, the black clothes contrasting sharply against the soft glow of the setting sun. The murmurs of the guests lingering in the backyard became a distant, indistinct hum as Jisung climbed into the treehouse, his heart burdened with grief and a simmering anger at the universe for taking you away so cruelly.

His son's youthful face was etched with a grief that seemed too profound for such a young soul. Jisung felt a surge of helplessness as he reached out, pulling his child close, wrapping him in an embrace meant to shield him from the cruel world outside. “I miss Mom,” came the soft, heart-wrenching whisper, each word a dagger to Jisung’s already shattered heart.

“I miss Mom too,” Jisung murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. They sat together in silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on them like an insurmountable force.

It had been nearly a year since you had fallen ill, the sickness so severe that the doctors had given you only a few months at most. Yet, you had defied their grim prognosis, your spirit burning brightly despite the frailty of your body. Jisung remembered the countless nights spent by your side, swallowing his fears and anger as you spoke of your impending death with a calm acceptance that had always made him furious. To him, it felt as though you had given up, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t wanted to waste what little time you had left fighting an unwinnable battle. Perhaps if he had truly listened, if he had embraced those fleeting moments instead of railing against them, he might have cherished your final days more deeply.

His son, too young to fully grasp the concept of death, struggled with the finality of it all. He understood that you would never return, yet accepting it was a different matter entirely. Jisung’s heart broke anew each time he saw the confusion and sorrow in his child’s eyes, a mirror of his own torment.

Holding his son tighter, Jisung wished he could find the right words to ease the pain, to make sense of a world that had suddenly lost its light. But words failed him, crumbled under the weight of their shared grief. Instead, he let the silence speak, hoping the strength of his embrace could convey the love and comfort his words could not.

The treehouse, once a symbol of their shared joy, now held their sorrow. The walls, which had echoed with laughter and dreams, now seemed to absorb their pain, standing as silent witnesses to their loss. But within this small, sacred space, surrounded by the memories of happier times, Jisung hoped they could begin to heal. He would be there for his son, a steadfast presence in the storm of their grief, guiding him through the darkness with a love that, while tested, remained unbroken.

As the last light of day faded, Jisung held his son close, both finding a semblance of solace in each other’s presence. In the quiet, grief-stricken aftermath, they began to forge a new bond, one tempered by loss but strengthened by their enduring love. And in that silent communion, Jisung found a glimmer of hope that they would eventually find their way through the darkness together.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

In a home where the relentless energy of three young girls and their single father painted every day with hues of joyous chaos, peace was a fleeting visitor. The air thrummed with the symphony of exuberant laughter, the vibrant discord of simultaneous chatter, and the relentless rhythm of youthful exuberance. Yongbok would never trade this tempestuous world for anything, yet a hollow ache lingered for the presence of the one who had been the steady heartbeat of their lives.

Your sudden departure had cast a profound shadow over their once lively abode, transforming it into a quieter realm where your laughter’s echoes were replaced by an oppressive silence. As time wove its delicate fabric over the jagged edges of grief, the house gradually adjusted to a new cadence, yet the weight of your absence hung heavy in every corner.

Despite this, Yongbok discovered fragments of you embedded within the fabric of their daily lives. He saw your essence in the selfless nurturing of his eldest daughter, who had seamlessly stepped into the role of co-caregiver. Her quiet acts of love and responsibility were a poignant echo of the devotion you had always shown, a continuation of your spirit in her every gesture.

In the middle child’s vibrant monologues about obscure topics, Yongbok glimpsed your enduring influence. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge mirrored the intellectual curiosity you had nurtured, each passionate explanation a living testament to your legacy.

The youngest, with her mischievous gleam and boundless spirit, kept Yongbok perpetually on his toes. Her playful antics and joyful mischief were a vivid reminder of the vivacity you had infused into their home, a living echo of the light you had brought into their lives.

In the quiet moments, Yongbok could still feel your presence. The post-it notes left in his lunch bag by his eldest daughter, each inscribed with a simple message of love, were imbued with your warmth. The tender strokes of his middle daughter’s fingers through his hair during their movie nights were a silent connection to you. And in the gentle inquiries of his youngest, her head peeking around the door to ensure he was alright, he felt the deep compassion you had instilled in her.

Though you were absent from the milestones and daily rhythms, your essence lived on through them. In the small, tender acts of affection and love, you continued to be a cherished part of their lives, an enduring presence in their hearts.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin had been absent through the vast expanse of your pregnancy, the relentless demands of touring keeping him away. He returned just in time to witness the birth, only to be swallowed by the crushing weight of your absence. The pain of missing those precious moments with you, of not being there to share in the miracle of your last days, was a wound that never healed. This haunting regret followed him, a constant reminder of a future lost.

The day you passed, Seungmin left Stray Kids, unable to bear the weight of the stage without you by his side. He couldn’t find solace in the bright lights or the rhythms of his music. Instead, he focused on his two sons—an older one, now sixteen, and a younger one, now twelve. The older boy, once a vibrant spirit, had retreated into the shadows of his room, his once lively demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. The baseball games that had once bound them together now lay abandoned, and Seungmin, despite the storm within, knew he had to reach out.

Determined to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, Seungmin planned a day just for the two of them. He left the youngest with his closest friend, Jeongin, and took his older son out. The car ride was a quiet procession of unspoken thoughts, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them. When they finally arrived at their destination, Seungmin braced himself, ready to face the tender fracture of their relationship.

It took patience, but eventually, the silence broke. The older boy revealed his feelings for a boy at school, emotions that he struggled to understand. Seungmin was taken aback, but he remained calm, his heart aching with a blend of surprise and concern. As his son’s tears fell freely, Seungmin pulled him into a tender embrace, his own heart aching with a mixture of empathy and love. He whispered reassurances into his son’s hair, promising acceptance and protection, vowing to stand by him no matter what.

The boy, still tearful but comforted, then showed Seungmin a small journal. Inside was a song he had penned, a poignant melody woven with the threads of his conflicted feelings for the boy at school. The song was hauntingly beautiful, a reflection of his son’s delicate soul and burgeoning talent. Seungmin’s heart swelled with pride and love as he listened, recognizing the echoes of his own musical spirit in his child’s creation.

As the day drew to a close, Seungmin received a snapshot from Jeongin—his youngest child, covered in dirt and beaming with the joy of a day spent playing baseball. The image was a burst of pure happiness, a vivid reminder that even amidst the sorrow, moments of light and joy persisted.

As the sun set, Seungmin felt a renewed connection with his older son, a fragile yet precious bond rekindled through their shared experiences and heartfelt conversation. Though the regret of not being there for you lingered, he found solace in the fact that he was striving to be the father you would have been proud of. In the quiet moments of the evening, he hoped, with all his heart, that wherever you were, you watched over them and felt a deep pride in the man he was becoming—a father striving to honor your memory through the love and strength he gave to your family.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

Jeongin’s youngest daughter was a restless spirit, her stubborn yet carefree nature a constant reminder of the love she once shared with you. Each burst of laughter, every defiant flicker of joy, was a living echo of your vibrant presence. In contrast, his oldest son was a mirror of Jeongin’s own meticulous nature, his life meticulously ordered, each ambition carefully planned.

Lately, Jeongin’s heart had been heavy with worry. His daughter, brimming with reckless exuberance, frequently dashed off to meet a boy Jeongin knew was unworthy. The thought of her entangled with someone without a future gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of concern. As he lay awake at night, the silence seemed to taunt him, and he often found himself wondering how you would have navigated these troubled waters if you had still been there to guide them.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly through the window, Jeongin was wrenched from sleep by the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. His heart raced as he followed the cries to his daughter’s room. He paused at the door, the murmur of his son’s voice cutting through the silence. The room, once a sanctuary of dreams, was now a cocoon of whispered regrets and stifled tears. His daughter’s voice wavered with the weight of her shame, confessing her feelings of foolishness for having trusted the boy. His son, with a soothing calmness that mirrored your gentle strength, reassured her that she wasn’t foolish, merely swept up in the exhilarating tide of young love. He told her she deserved better than a boy with no future, his words a soft balm to her wounded spirit.

Jeongin’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he heard his son’s comforting tones, the echoes of your nurturing spirit resonating in his voice. After a few moments, he gathered the courage to step into the room. His eyes were tender with understanding as he took in the scene: his daughter’s tear-streaked face, her hands buried in her lap. Her cries grew louder as she saw him, her embarrassment palpable as she shielded her face with her hands.

Jeongin knelt before her, his expression a blend of love and compassion. Gently, he reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face to hold them in his own. His touch was a lifeline, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“You told me so, I know,” she choked out, her voice a trembling whisper.

“I would never say that, my love,” Jeongin murmured, his voice rich with tenderness. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. His gaze met his son’s, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I know it hurts,” Jeongin whispered into her hair, his voice a soothing melody against her ear, “but this isn’t the end.” His embrace was a warm cocoon, a sanctuary of love amidst the storm of her emotions. The night unfolded in a delicate tapestry of comfort and hope, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together, even in the quiet absence of your guiding presence.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @bowsnbang @nothinginterestingtoshowhere

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

[linopls]

kinktober day twenty-nine

public minho x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (fem receiving), barely exhibitionism

0.9k words

“get in here,” minho whispers, grabbing your wrist.

“min!” you gasp as your boyfriend pulls into a nearby supply closet.

it was your brother  chan’s wedding reception and you were just making your way back from the bathroom to the dance floor. you had been dancing along with the other guests and having the occasional drink. minho being particularly handsy on the dance floor, holding your hips and twirling you around. you had excused yourself to the restroom for a second and intended to return to the party but was rudely interrupted by being dragged into a closet.

“minho, what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, still trying to put your rings back on your hand.

“shh, shh, shh.” minho wraps his arms around your center and presses sloppy kisses to your neck.

without thinking your head falls back and you let out a soft moan. anytime minho touches you, your body becomes dough allowing him to do whatever he pleases. 

“i saw you eyeing me during the whole ceremony,” he mumbles against your skin.

you giggle, “the most handsome groomsmen up there.”

“mhm.” his lips travel up the side of your neck to your jaw. “and you are the prettiest bridesmaid.”

“thank you, babe.” you tangle your fingers in his dark, soft hair.

his lips make their way to yours where he kisses you gently. a couple soft pecks, you can feel him smiling, before it becomes deeper and more passionate. you’ll definitely be able to see your red lipstick all over his mouth.

minho pulls away abruptly. through the dim light peering through the cracks of the door, you can see his lips glossy with your spit, caught between his teeth. his eyes wandering all across your body. 

“can i eat your pussy?”

your jaw would’ve fallen off the hinges at the speed it fell. “here? are you crazy?”

“crazy in love with you.” one of his hands cups your cheek and his thumb runs over top of your lips. “and you look so fucking good.”

“minho,” you sigh.

“i don’t need anything in return, i just want to taste you,” he purrs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. 

you have to admit, the idea is hot. all your mutual friends and family just down the hall from where your lover will be buried under your dress devouring your already wet cunt. 

“i’ll be quick, promise.” his hands slip under your dress and begin to slide up your legs. “and then you can get back to the party.”

“okay,” you whisper.

minho’s quick to move. his head disappears under the skirt of your dress and his hot breath against your core sends shivers down your spine. his hands travel your hips, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties and pull them down to your ankles in one swift motion. 

“pretty,” he giggles. 

he grabs the underneath of your thigh and places your leg on his shoulder. you stumble back again the stack of chairs behind you and support yourself by placing your hands on each opposing wall. 

minho’s tongue presses flat against your clit as one of his hands rests against your lower stomach, parting your lips with two fingers. his tongue wanders to your hole, the tip teases your entrance.

“min, please,” you moan softly.

he attaches his lips to your clit, sucking harshly on the sensitive bud. you feel your knees turn to putty and would have fallen to the floor if not propped up on his shoulder. you glance down to the boy in front of you, even through the darkness of the closet, you can see his bottom half peeking out from under your long dress. 

“close,” you whisper, biting down on your bottom lip to stop any sounds pouring from your mouth.

minho quickens his ministrations, switching back and forth from dipping his tongue deep in your hole to flicking his tongue against your bud. his mouth works wonders, he’s constantly teasing you for how quickly you finish on his lips but now you're grateful. 

as his tongue plunges deep in your entrance, his nose brushes gently against your clit. a whimper comes from your throat as you feel yourself about to spill over the edge. one of your hands moves from the wall to his head, overtop of the dress, pressing him hard against your pussy. 

he moves his head from side to side to stimulate your clit with his beautiful nose while the hand of the arm holding up your leg grabs at your ass and pushes you closer into his face. 

“cumming, min,” you gasp. your heel digs into minho’s lower back and your fingers grasp at the fabric of your dress over his head. you feel a mix of his saliva and your arousal drip down your thighs as minho pulls his face away from your cunt, breathing heavily. 

“wow,” he sighs. 

he helps you gently put your leg back on the ground and slides out from under your dress. you watch as he makes a show of licking his lips clean and wiping his chin with his sleeve. standing up, with your panties in hand, he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“thank you.” he smiles.

he turns to open the closet door a crack and looks back at you, a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“hey!” you reach for your panties in his hand. “can i have those back?”

he shoves the garment into his pants pocket and swings the door open. 

“maybe later,” he laughs as he exits the closet and makes his way back to the dance floor like nothing happened.

TWO MORE TWO MORE TWO MORE

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli 

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[mxnhoo]

like it (h. hj)

"a no-label relationship, how thrilling can it be?" | cover preview ׂ╰➤ hwang hyunjin x reader (ft jay, jake and jungwon from enhypen, chan, seungmin, jisung, minho) genre angst, toxic relationship, reader has long hair, toxic LAWL, aruging crying kissing in the rain (we love to see it), reader enjoys photography w/c 17.2k warnings toxic relationships (ig), arguments, manipulative, aggressive kissing (gasp!), a lot of kissing (I HOPE I DID OKAY FOR THE KISSING SCENES), hyunjin is possessive, hyunjin invades reader's privacy, hyunjin takes things without permission, hickies, slightly suggestive ig?, occurrence where the reader gets harassed/assaulted physically, fighting, cheating, THERE IS MORE BUT ILL UPDATE WHEN I WAKE UP COS I JUST WANNA POST THIS ASAP, semi-proofread

a/n finally, the fic is out! it came out later than expected, and i apologise to yall for that. this is the first long fic i've ever written and ive learnt that long fics arent for me LOL. cringed so much writing this, i literally have a love-hate relationship with this, but i seriously hope yall enjoy this because i spent so much time on it. likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, and once again so sorry it took so long!

now playing i like it - stray kids

It was getting dark outside — the sun slowly setting, roads having slight traffic due to it being a little after peak hour, and your window blinds were closed, your living room being dimly lit from the lamp on the table and the ceiling light that was barely working.

"Don't tell me you're still going out with Jay?"

You finished tying your hair up in a ponytail before averting your gaze to Hyunjin, an expression of grimace on your face. He was resting on your couch, legs were in a manspread, his arms crossed and his head thrown back on the cushion. He returned the sour expression and all you could do was turn your head back to the mirror to touch up on your make-up, picking up the different brushes.

"Why can't I?" you retorted back, your annoyance towards him gradually growing as you start to dab the brush on your face, focusing on the small details. You two just had an argument moments before, a big reason was because you had plans with other males — well, just one, your best friend, Jay. You two also bickered about other small things, nitpicking each other’s small habits, and it all led to this.

"Because I'm here?" He sat up on the couch, his posture straightening as he locked his gaze onto you, his eyes showing fury as you remained unphased, putting down your brush and holding up your eyebrow pencil, drawing over your eyebrows. His sentiment sounded contemptuous, but this wasn't your first rodeo with him.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?" you taunted, clearly not intimidated by him as you fully turned your body to face him. The corner of his mouth curled up, raising his eyebrows as he set himself up from the couch, walking towards you until he was in front of you. Considering you were seated, you had to tilt your neck upwards to maintain eye contact with him, your eyes showing no remorse towards him.

"What will I do?" He leaned forward, his face mere inches away from yours. On the outside, you remained nonchalant about it, but on the inside it felt like your heart was going to burst out. "What do you think I'm going to do?" he threw the question at you, and you could feel your heart skip a beat. The way you two were holding eye contact so intensely made your eyes linger over his lips, admiring how plump and captivating it looked, and it didn't go unnoticed.

He leaned in, smashing his lips onto yours with no warning and you gasped. He took the chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, two of your muscles dancing strongly against each other with strong passion. You closed your eyes and your hands slowly wrapped around his neck. His hands cupped your jaw, manually tilting your head so he could gain more access to your mouth. The passion in the kiss was so evident and it fueled the fact that you both despise yet yearn for each other so much. You slowly felt as if you were running out of breath, so your hands snake down to his chest and you attempt to push him back, but your attempt is fruitless.

This only made him kiss you more aggressively, and this was a way of expressing his frustrations and jealousy to you, since you obviously didn't want to obey him. You gradually started to feel light-headed, and he finally pulled back from the kiss, his forehead resting on yours as he looked at you with the same fury in his eyes. You panted, desperate to catch your breath as you could physically feel your heart racing. His gaze averted to your lips and he chuckled at the sight of your red lipstick being smudged, bringing his fingers up to smudge your lipstick even more.

"Forget Jay, Y/N. How could you think about him when I'm right in front of you?" his eyes softened and he pleaded, causing a pang of guilt to hit your heart. You released a sigh, your hands falling back down to your sides as you leaned back from him, looking around the room to avoid eye contact with him. "I'll cancel, okay?" you muttered, feeling guilty for making Hyunjin feel that way, as well as for cancelling plans with Jay extremely last minute.

You and Jay originally had plans to go see a movie, and you had been looking forward to it for a week, but guess things just don't go accordingly sometimes.

Upon hearing that you'd cancel, his face lit up and a wide grin spread across his face. He brought you into an embrace, his broad frame perfectly wrapping around yours as you nuzzled your face into his neck, enjoying his warmth. 

“Thank you, baby,” he mumbled, hugging you tighter and you shook your head.

“I’m still mad at you,” you replied and he only laughed it off.

You felt so complete with him, so many moments when you wanted to rip your hair out because of him but it always ended up like this. Always ended up in his arms, and no one else.

"You signed up too?!" you exclaimed, nearly choking on your food as you kept your focus on the boy in front of you. Jay lightly grinned at your reaction and nodded his head. Loud chatters fill the cafeteria as you stared at the boy in front of you with a wide grin. Bliss filled you as you processed that you wouldn't be alone in the photography club; it's always nice to have someone familiar around.

"I didn't know you were into photography too, Y/N!" he chuckled, taking a bite out of his sandwich afterwards and glancing at you. You were so excited to finally have a mate that you could talk about photography with. Even if he was your friend for a while, you never knew he had the same interest as you. You were experienced with it, having bought your own camera a little while ago and playing around with it whenever you had free time. Unfortunately,

"Yeah! I actually bought my own digital camera a while ago but I recently lost it.."

Jay pouted upon hearing the news, sharing the sorrow you felt when you first realised you had lost it. "But it's okay! They provide cameras in the club, don't they?" you added on, lightening up the mood.

Jay chuckled and nodded, admiring how you could quickly light the mood up. You took another bite of your meal, munching it down and took a sip of your chocolate milk from the plastic straw.

"Actually, I've already been in the club for a while, I could introduce you to a few of the members right now if you want?" he offered, and your eyes instantly lit up, your face leaning closer to his. "Seriously?! Right now?! You would do that?" you jubilantly expressed, feeling euphoria run through your veins. Jay gave you a small smile and nodded, and you stood up from your chair immediately, creating a loud dragging sound from your chair which caught the attention of a few others in the cafeteria, but you could care less.

"Let's go now then!" you exclaimed, taking Jay's wrist with your left hand and your right hand still holding your half-eaten burger. Jay looked surprised at your excitement, but went along with it regardless. He was more than happy to lead you to the club room. On the way you kept telling Jay about your experiences with photography, and he shared some of his experiences too, helping you to realise that Jay was really interesting as well.

"Well, here we are!" Jay stood in front of a door, glancing at you and realising you had the brightest expression on your face. He chuckled at the sight of you being so eager and he nodded at you, opening the door and gesturing for you to enter first. You slightly bowed and mumbled a small 'thank-you' before stepping in and realising how the room was filled with about 5 people. All of them were new faces, or so you thought.

"Hey guys, we have a new member!" Jay stepped in and closed the door after himself, glancing between at his club mates and at you, flashing you a welcoming smile. From the way he spoke, you could somewhat tell that he was already close with the members, and it reassured you since it would be easier for you to make friends through him. You looked at each person one by one, noticing how each of them were at their own individual spots and giving them a friendly smile until you looked at the last person.

Hyunjin.

And he was holding the camera you mentioned about, angled at the corner of the room closest to him. The one you had lost.

"Oh?" Hyunjin said, his tone sounding amused as he eyed you up and down. You looked at him with widened eyes, not expecting him to be here out of all people. You cleared your throat and averted your gaze away from him, feeling his eyes burn a hole on you from his intense gaze. It was true you and Hyunjin had something, but you two never revealed it in public.

"Do you know her, Hyunjin?" Jay questioned, your sudden awkward behaviour not going unnoticed. Hyunjin smirked and raised his hands up as if he were surrendering, "Who knows?". You bit your lip, feeling uncomfortable at this situation and feeling like anyone would be able to infer that you and Hyunjin had something, but your thoughts were interrupted by Jay's laugh.

"You're scaring the poor girl, at least be more welcoming," Jay laughed out and walked over to the side of a boy who had silky straight hair, his hair slightly over his eyebrows and partially covering his eyes, and a black hoodie nicely fitting over his torso. You formed eye contact with the boy and he flashed you a small smile, a dimple forming on one side of his cheeks.

"Y/N, this is Jungwon, the president" Jay gestured to Jungwon, and Jungwon slightly bowed down. "Hi Y/N! I remember seeing your name in the list; just didn't expect to be seeing you so soon!" he spoke, his voice sounding like honey. He extended his arm for a handshake, and you nervously walked towards him and took his hand, firmly shaking it. You were slightly taken aback to how casual Jay was with the president of the club.

"Hi Jungwon! Nice to meet you!" you greeted him. You felt as if you were walking on eggshells, knowing very well that Hyunjin was watching your every move, and you were familiar with his outbursts after seeing you interact with other males. After the handshake with Jungwon, you quickly pulled your hand back and fidgeted with your fingers, already imagining the argument with Hyunjin in your head.

Jay helped to introduce to the rest, initiating friendly small-talk and helping you to getting to know the members. They were all pretty friendly and lovely people to get to know.

As you reached the last person, Hyunjin, you formed eye contact with him, biting your lip as the tension between the two of you became increasingly unbearable.

"Y/N, this is Hyunjin, and Hyunjin this is Y/N!" Jay introduced. You felt a lump in your throat, suddenly losing the ability to talk.

"Hello, Y/N. Nice meeting you," he extended his hand and flashed a smirk, his gaze on your hand and waiting for you to take his. You cleared your throat and nervously raised your hand up to take his hand until the loud school bell rang. While everyone else looked at the clock or at their wrists for the watch, you immediately pulled your hand down. Hyunjin watched you and slowly put his hand down.

While everybody else was distracted by the school bell and packing up their belongings to head to the next class, Hyunjin took the chance to lean to your ear and whisper, "Meet you after school".

You stumbled back, a shiver running down your spine and you were aggressively shaking your head and shooting a glare at him until he raised his occupied hand. The hand that was holding your camera.

"Unless you don't want this?" he mouthed, not voicing anything out.

You scoffed and scowled at him, giving him a single nod before turning your back on him to leave the classroom. Your eyes immediately met Jay's and you both started to converse while leaving, knowing that you two share the next class.

"Like Jay more than me?" he shot out, swinging the straps of your digital camera as he walked. You walked beside him, keeping your eyes on the camera to make sure he didn't accidentally drop it and he suddenly came to a halt, catching you off-guard and almost causing you to slip.

It was currently late evening, considering that your school ended later than usual today. You and Hyunjin were walking around in a more secluded area in the city that was still near the school, the place being dimly lit and fewer people being present.

Suddenly his body fully turned to yours, his hand lifting your chin up so you could look at him. Your eyes widened as you realised what he was doing, forming eye contact but remaining completely still.

"I asked you a question, darling."

You blinked your eyes at him in confusion, not realising that he had actually asked you a question after cautiously watching your camera that he was holding. You stuttered, "Huh? What? What question?".

"Do you like Jay more than me?" he questioned once more, his face darkening as he stared into your eyes and leaned closer. You gulped, wanting to jump off the earth as you immediately closed your eyes as the proximity increased. The weight of the question hung heavily in the air as the silence grew to be more unbearable. You slowly opened your eyes and were expecting to be met with an angry expression, but you are met with the opposite.

His eyes looked sad, and his eyebrows furrowed upwards. Your heart broke at his expression and you finally answered.

"No."

"Really?" his face lit up, his eyes blinking at you in elatedness. You were shocked to see that he wasn't angry or asking it repeatedly for reassurance but you weren't complaining. "Yeah. I like you more than Jay," you stated.

He flashed you a warm smile and cupped your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your lips which caught you off-guard. It was almost a switch inside him flipped and he was happy all of a sudden. You felt as your heart started beating in a frantic rhythm, and blood started rushing to your face. You started to feel nervous and you flashed him an awkward smile, avoiding eye contact afterwards.

"Tell me more!" he leaned backwards, still looking at you. "Am I more handsome than him? More attractive?" he continued, clearly wanting your validation and you honestly found his jealousy adorable.

"Yes, you're more handsome than him, okay?" you reassured him, the warmth in your heart growing as your gaze went back to him. You took the time to notice his attire, his straight curtain hair parted into two different sections and a few strands of hair over his eyebrows. His looped silver earrings and necklace nicely complemented his skin tone, and his strong perfume filled the air.

He seemed overjoyed at your response, clearly wanting to hear more. "Am I the only guy in your life?".

Oh.

You blinked at him, slightly taken-aback to his sudden question. Was he the only guy in your life? I mean, technically yes, from how you two acted, but you two never.. had a label. You wanted to agree to his question, but you were reluctant. You answered back with a question, "Are you? You tell me."

He chuckled at your response before pecking your forehead and letting go of your face.

"Let's go."

You looked at him, feeling confused to where he meant but he took your wrist and started dragging you. "Where are we going?" you questioned, feeling genuinely clueless but he continued to drag you, not looking back to answer you.

"Nowhere."

You ended up in the subway with him, walking around the station as you both waited for the train to come. Your hand was interlocked with his, your arms swinging back and forth. There weren't a lot of people since it was starting to be late and the day after was still a weekday. You wanted to ask him so many things, like — when did he take your camera? When did he join the photography club? Since when did he actually know Jay?

"What are you thinking about?" he questioned, breaking your train of thought and causing you to gain back consciousness and look back at him. He had a soft expression, sincerity evident in his voice as he softly grinned at you.

"I have a lot of questions about today."

"Oh yeah? Spit."

"You had my camera the entire time?" you shot out the first question that had been at the back of your head for the entire day after you saw him in the club room. You were happy that your camera was with someone you knew, but you were confused about how he even got it. Sad too, that he practically stole it from you.

"Yeah. Took it while you weren't looking when I came over," he confessed, his tone showing no guilt or remorse. "So.. you deliberately took it without asking me?" "I guess so."

You weren't surprised, you were already used to this, just slightly upset that he didn't tell you first.

"But why?" you asked the part you've been eager to hear the most. "I wanted to make sure there weren't other guys."

'Is that so?' you thought to yourself.

"So did you find any other guys?" you asked. You knew you didn't have any photos of other guys in your camera, but you wanted to hear his response. "You're in the clear," he tilted his head upwards, giving you a downwards smile and his hair fell down to his temples from his forehead. "Must be fun invading my privacy, huh?" you wried, but at the same time you felt thrilled at the thought that he was being possessive.

He simply laughed at your comment, feeling guilty about your statement. He asked, "Shoot more questions, bet 'ya have more".

"You were in the photography club?" "Yeah." "Why didn't you tell me?" "You never asked."

Fair point.

You sighed at his comment, now realising that you don't know much about Hyunjin but it was a stark contrast when it came to Hyunjin's knowledge about you. It felt almost as if he knew everything about you, and it made you feel so vulnerable to him.

"You knew Jay?" you asked the final question.

Hyunjin hummed, indicating he was thinking before he nodded.

"You never told me you and him knew each other personally." "Once again.. you never aske—" "I know that, but you could've just said a simple 'Oh, him and I are club mates' or whatever."

You thought that Hyunjin only knew Jay because you brought up Jay multiple times and that you and him hung out in school. Jay and Hyunjin knowing each other personally was the last thing you expected, especially in a photography club.

"Well, now you know."

The train arrived, the sounds of the train railing in filling up the atmosphere in the train platform. You glanced at Hyunjin and he nodded, both of you walking at one of the doors where the train would open.

Both of you sat in the train, talking to each other and resting on each other. With your hand interlocked with his, his thumb slowly caressed yours and you felt at ease with him, forgetting about all of the relatioship's toxicity. Time passed by, both of you just sitting in the train accompanied by each other's presence as the train stopped at every stop, the cabins slowly emptying out as it became later.

There was endless chatter, laughter and bickering and before you realised, your train eventually reached the last station, the clock already striking past midnight. It was already time to go home since it was a school night, and you two had classes to attend to the following day.

Before you two parted ways, he spoke up, "Hey, about my question, what's your answer?". You flashed a perplexed look, trying to recall what question he had asked.

Oh, that question. You took a few seconds to think about it, feeling like your answer weighed heavily and required sincerity, possibly impacting whatever relationship you had with him.

Am I the only guy in your life?

"Yeah. You're the only guy."

Your response made him smile, and he took your hands into his, bringing you closer.

"It's the same for you, okay? You're the only girl in my life". Your heart melted at his words and you felt truly percepted. He continued while planting a kiss on your cheek "Goodnight, Y/N".

You watched as he walked away from you towards the opposite end of the station, entering the train which was practically desolated and your heart clenched as the doors watched, your eyes on him even as the train moves away. (You didn't want to admit it, but you were feeling upset that he wouldn't take you home, but you tried to brush the feeling away).

By the time you've reached home, it was already 3am. Upon opening your front door, you didn't even bother to turn on the lights, just heading straight to your room and flinging the door open. You felt exhausted, but recalling the quality time you spent with Hyunjin warmed your heart up (but a pinch of sadness because he didn't take you home).

You carelessly drop the bag onto the floor beside your table, a loud thump echoing through the room and you immediately shuffle your feet towards your bed, falling on it, your arms and legs widely spread as you stared at the ceiling, not even bothering to change your clothes first. Your room was completely dark, but the moonlight that entered through your window made certain areas in your room visible — though barely. Not only did you get to spend time with him, but knowing that your digital camera indeed didn't get lost assuaged your worries.

Wait.. Talking about your camera.. Did he even pass it back to you?

You immediately sat up, setting your feet on the floor before walking towards your light switch, making extra effort not to accidentally kick or trip over anything. Upon flicking the lightswitch, the sudden bright light caused you to flick your head downwards and shut your eyes. You slowly opened your eyelids as you gradually grew accustomed to the different lighting and you looked at the corner where you had placed your school bag when you reached home.

You quickly shuffled your feet towards your bag, unzipping the front pocket to see if there was anything, followed by the biggest pocket. Your anxiety grew as you slowly unzip, peeking your head into your bag. To your relief, your camera was resting nicely inside the big pocket on top of your school materials. You quickly snatched it out, inspecting the camera to ensure there were no scratches or dents, and luck was on your side because your camera was in perfect condition from the last time you saw it.

You released a sigh of relief and slouched your back, feeling as all the worry inside of you disappeared. You turned on your camera, wanting to quickly get the feeling of using your camera again after being so sure that you had lost it, and you wanted to quickly take a random shot.

Your bedroom could be considered neat. You were sitting beside the table that was at one corner with your laptop on it, a lamp and at the other side of the room was your bed, but your sheets were all ruffled up from a moment ago. You quickly shot your bedroom, hearing the camera click and a flash shooting through the room.

You pulled the camera away from your face, pressing a few buttons and quickly looking at the photo you took and smiled. You clicked buttons to see your other shots until you realised that there were photos that you don't recognise at all. And that's when you realise that Hyunjin has probably taken a few shots himself from when he deliberately stole your camera.

The first photo was a photo of.. you? And it was a shot of you talking to Jungwon and shaking his hand. This must've been when Jay brought you to the club room earlier.

Second, third, fourth shots were all him taking mirror selfies. There were more photos where he was intentionally making a stupid face and you giggled at his stupidity, your heart feeling warm that you had these photos for yourself, and you continued to click until you reached one photo.

It was a shot with the flashlight on, the photo slightly blurry. A girl could be seen raising her hand up to the camera, probably to block her face and as you inspected the photo more, you realised that there were purple marks visible down her jugular, causing you to gasp. You could physically feel your heart shatter as you continued to scan the photo, now zooming in and realising that the background of the photo seemed familiar.

You could make it out that it was Hyunjin's bedroom, and the girl was sitting up on the edge of his bed. Her hand had fully covered her face, leaving her identity unknown to you but all you could care about were the marks down on her neck.

You felt as nausea washed over you and your heart dropping. You knew that unless Hyunjin was a dickhead and shared your camera around, it had to be him who took that photo. You instantly turned off your camera and dropped it to the floor, not caring about the potential damages done to it and you just flicked the lightswitch to turn off the light. You threw yourself on the bed and nuzzled your face into your pillow, feeling as tears form in your eyes.

Tears slowly start to escape your eyes, feeling deeply betrayed by your discovery. The fact that that photo took a while to reach in your camera gallery just tells you that it's been a while since it's been in your camera, so how could Hyunjin treat you so nicely and restrict you from seeing other people when he goes out to meet people other than you? Heck, you didn't even have the thoughts to go down on Jay on the day you were supposed to go to the movies, but here Hyunjin was, marking others.

"'only girl in my life' my fucking ass, bro" you thought.

"Fuck you....." you mumbled weakly to yourself and your voice cracked as the image of Hyunjin's face appeared in your head when you closed your eyes. You whimpered, feeling as if the whole world just came crashing down and you continued to cry yourself to sleep until you eventually drifted into a deep sleep.

The bright sunlight crept into your room from your window without warning, and your eyes fluttered open as your nose felt congested and your eyes puffy. You groaned, feeling your body score and you rolled over to the other side of your bed where your phone was laying, and you checked the time.

11:28a.m.

You missed class, and typically you'd be panicking and immediately getting yourself ready for school, but not today. Today you were tired and you just needed the day to yourself — a day without school, interacting with people, and also a day without seeing Hyunjin. You picked up your phone from the nightstand and tried to turn it on, spamming the turn-on button repeatedly and realising that your phone was dead probably since you forgot to plug in your phone before going to sleep. That was probably why you didn't wake up, your alarm didn't even ring to wake you up —but it wasn't like you were going to get up anyways.

You sighed and turned to lay on your back, your arm resting on your forehead as you closed your eyes, recalling the reason you were even upset in the first place. It was such a lovely hangout with him last night and it felt as if you two became even closer, but now it felt like he was a completely different person to you.

Still holding your phone, you took a moment to reflect upon everything that has a moment and a bittersweet feeling ran through your veins. You sat up from your bed, looking around and still realising your digital camera on the floor. You set your feet on the floor and shuffled your feet towards the camera resting on the floor and picked it up, inspecting it for damages. Luckily for you it was still in perfect condition, but for now you just didn't want to use it — for now, you could only recall bad memories with it.

Walking to your table at the other corner of the room, you gently placed your camera down and plugged in your phone, seeing the charging screen. You released a heavy sigh and turned away from the devices, stretching your arms in the air and letting out a loud groan.

Did he take that photo intentionally? Were you not meant to see that photo? Would he message you and reassure you out of nowhere?

You slapped yourself for thinking about these questions. You didn't want to see him physically yet he was implanted in your mind, and it pissed you off.

Today, you were going to spend it on yourself. No one else, just you.

It was a nice day outside, beautiful even. The sun was out shining, the breeze brushing against your face and the streets being lightly occupied since the majority of the people were busy in school or work. You skipped down the street, feeling your hair blow as you smile at the different people you form eye contact with. Sometimes when other people return the smile it almost makes you forget how much your heart had been hurting. Keyword — almost. You look down at the pavement, releasing a loud sigh as the road beside you had cars driving past you at steady speeds.

You weren't just going anywhere, you were going to your comfort place. Your favourite cafe — Chronos Brews. You always bought the same pair of items, but maybe today you were going to get something different.

As you pushed the glass door open, the bells attached to the door chimed and while forming eye contact with the worker at the counter, you grinned at them. You strolled towards the counter and went face-to-face with the worker.

"Hey, what can I get for ya?" the male greeted, his Australian accent strong and your eyes shifted to his nametag that was hanging above his left chest pocket.

Sim Jaeyun.You have never seen him before, perhaps he was a new worker?

"Hey! Uhm.." you greeted and you trailed off, looking at the menu to search for something new. Once your eyes found an item you found interesting, you continued, “Could I get a New York cheesecake and a..” your voice trailed off as you eyes continued to scan the menu, “passion yoghurt smoothie?”. 

The male smiled at you and nodded, proceeding to press buttons on the cash register and looking up again afterwards. “That’ll be 11.90, cash or card?”

“Card.”

“Okay.” He smiled.

You sat on a vacant table, the cafe being emptier than usual since everyone else was at work or school. You never realised how calming it could be when you were in your favourite cafe with barely anyone else inside. Just you, the apparent new worker - Sim Jaeyun as well as another girl, sitting at one corner busied by her laptop. As you heard footsteps approaching you, you looked up and you were met with the worker holding up a glass cup containing yellow slush with a straw poking out, and a small plate which had your cheesecake accompanied by a mini fork. He set the food down on your table, and gave you a warm smile. 

“Good choice,” he suddenly spoke up, causing you to raise your eyebrows, “as in, your food choices. I like the passion yoghurt smoothie too.”

You smiled at him, “Just wanted to try something new today. I hope it’s good.”

“It will be, no worries,” he reassured, watching as you lean closer to the straw, sipping up with the drink. Your face immediately lit up, your eyebrows raising, your eyes slightly widening and a smile plastered onto your face, “You’re right, this is good”.

You continue to sip on the drink, the liquid level quickly dropping as he laughed at you. You lean back on your chair, and look at him again, “Say, I come here often but I’ve never seen you before”.

He quickly nodded his head, “Yup, just started a while ago. Usually take morning shifts, do you usually come in the afternoon?”.

You nodded your head, “Yeah I do. Makes sense why I’ve never seen you before”.

He suddenly raised one eyebrow, humming in thought. He asked, “No school or work? It’s a weekday morning” and you quickly shook your head. “I mean, I do still have school but.. Today’s my day.”

He nodded, understanding what you meant, “Well then, could I give you my number?”. You shot your gaze at him, caught off-guard by the sudden question and you raised your eyebrows. He continued, his face growing red as his eyes widened

“A-ah, not for any particular reason! You just kinda.. Seem cool, y’know? And if you need anyone to talk to..”. You laughed at him as you watched him aggressively shake his head and hands.

“Okay, sure, why not?” you giggled, handing your phone and watching as he nervously tapped his phone number, his hands slightly quivering.

After you got the new worker’s number, you left the cafe and went to different places, walking in a mall and buying things, walking in a park. It was a day out with yourself.

Must be fun, huh?

You came back home just a little bit before you ate dinner, and dropping all your bags from shopping, you immediately found your way to your room, picking up your phone and turning it on with high expectations. Your hope only crumbles when you realise that you do have notifications, but not from him. Not a single ‘Why didn’t you come to school today?’ or a ‘Are you okay?’ or if you were lucky, an ‘I’m sorry’.

Before you knew it, you were already grabbing your jacket from your closet, picking up your personal handbag from the floor and putting on your slippers, preparing to leave your house with one goal in mind - confronting Hyunjin.

He first wronged you by taking the photo of the girl, maybe it was intentional to make you jealous? Maybe it was unintentional, but you don’t know which one was first, but at this point you didn’t care. You were mad and wanted to hear it from himself, and if he wasn’t even going to reach out to you, you’re going to reach out to him first.

Standing in front of a door you’ve been in front of so many times, you anxiously knock on the wood, folding your arms as you wait for a response. Seconds felt like hours, and you felt the anxiety in you growing. Sweat rolled down your temples and you bit your lip, suddenly forgetting the words you rehearsed on the way to confront him when you actually saw him face to face.

Your head shoots up as you hear the door unlocking, watching as the door swiftly opens, revealing the man who has you wrapped around his finger. The man who puts you on an emotional rollercoaster, never once getting a break from how unpredictable he is. He looks bewildered at the sight of you, his eyebrows raising, eyes widening and his lips slightly parting, clearly speechless.

He takes a few seconds to process that you were right in front of you and finally breaks the silence, “Y/N? Why are you here?”.

You immediately frowned at his question.

Was he not going to ask how you were? Where were you instead of school? His words pricked your heart but you kept your head high, folding your arms as you lifted your head, “I saw the photo”. Features of confusion washed over him as he looked at you as if you were speaking alien language

“What phot-” “You have another girl you’re fucking with.”

His eyes immediately widened, blinking at you repetitively as he tried to find words to respond to you. “Y/N, what are you-”

“Don’t fuck with me, Hyun. I saw it in the photo in my own camera. A girl, on your bed, with hickies. You can’t tell me I’m hallucinating.” you emphasised ‘with hickies’, your chest finally feeling light as you finally let out the words you’ve been wanting to say ever since you saw that photo in the morning. 

You watch as he gives you a confused look, and it makes you feel stupid about yourself, almost doubting yourself.. “Y/N, do you seriously think of me like that?”.

“Hyun, don’t turn this around on me. I literally saw-” “Y/N,” he interrupted, his gaze softening as he tilts his neck, “you do remember I told you that you’re the only girl in my life, right?” “How the fuck is that relevant in this?!” you yelled. You quite literally couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

His shoulder relaxes, folding his arms, “I genuinely have no idea what photo you’re talking about. I did take photos on your camera, yes, but it was all photos of me, Y/N. Trust me, I never had a girl over, and if anything, the girl would only be you.”

“So you’re saying my eyes are lying to me?” “Yes. I genuinely have never taken any photos of girls, or even girls on my fucking bed. You know me Y/N, I only have eyes for you.”

“No Hyunjin, I literally saw-” “Y/N, please? I know this is serious but I’m really busy right now. Can’t you just forgive me?” He steps forward towards you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him, his body now pressing against yours as he looks at you with a pleading expression. 

You want to pick up a fight against him. You want to stand your ground, and tell him that you know that what you saw was right. But the way he was pleading, the way his voice sounded so soft, the way he was looking at you so softly and holding you so gently, it made you think otherwise. You averted your gaze, suddenly having a pang of guilt hit you as you sucked the insides of your cheek, not daring to look at him.

“Look at me, please?” he used one of his hands to hold your chin and lift it up to meet your eyes. You looked back at him, your jaw tightened as the guilt grew. You notice how he eyes your lips and how he was gradually leaning closer and you shut your eyes, almost afraid for what was coming.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, however, the feeling was different. Typically, kisses with him would be intense, greedy and passionate, but this time it was slow and gentle. He was taking his own time as he slowly cupped your jaw to angle your head. His mouth moved slowly with yours, and you could feel yourself meaning.

As the kiss continued, you felt your anger for him slowly dissociate, your stomach being filled with butterflies and your chest feeling fuzzy as you finally wrap your arms around his neck to pull his face closer to yours. 

You had thoughts that you never wanted this to end, or that he was right, he would only pick you, but suddenly the image on your camera appears in your head again and it causes you to push him aggressively, breaking the kiss and his hold around you.

He looks at you flabbergasted, evidently bewildered as to why you suddenly pushed him away and you just spoke weakly, “We can’t do this..”. No matter how hard he tries, you know your eyes weren’t playing with you and that the photo was real, and you can’t kiss him or the greed for him and the pain would be worse.

“Hyunjin?” a high-pitched voice spoke out from behind Hyunjin, causing your heart to drop and your blood to go cold, already knowing what was about to come. As you averted your gaze from Hyunjin to the voice behind him, you saw it. You saw the girl in the camera, the same girl in your camera on Hyunjin’s bed with hickies all over her neck.

She had the same blonde straight hair, bangs that were slightly uneven and she was wearing an oversized shirt that you hated you recognised. It was a shirt you yourself wore multiple times.

You could now confirm that the girl was definitely in Hyunjin’s bed, and that all her hickies were definitely from Hyunjin herself. You were speechless, frozen, you were unable to do anything as your mouth remained agape, not being able to form words as your mind goes blank.

The silence between the 3 of you became extremely uncomfortable, and though no words were spoken, each second was like a knife piercing your heart and being twisted. 

You couldn't do this anymore. You can’t deal with this bullshit anymore. Without thinking, your palm swiped across Hyunjin’s cheek, a loud slap echoing the atmosphere as you scowled at Hyunjin.

You were done and you weren’t going to feel like you were just one of his toys he can use and throw away once he was bored. “Fuck you, Hyunjin,” was the last thing you said before you readjusted your bag on your shoulder and stormed away, not looking back. You could feel both of their gazes on you as you walked away, but you couldn’t care less, not wanting to face them again, or anymore. 

The only thing you could think about was Hyunjin and that girl. You were feeling so many emotions to the point it was overwhelming - humiliation, betrayal, anger. You felt so ashamed for actually believing that you were going to be the only girl in his life. So much for a relationship with no actual label, right?

Anger grew inside of you as you replayed the scene in your head repeatedly, wishing that you didn’t just slap him, but also yelled at him and put him in his place. Who was he to throw you around and treat you as if you were nothing? 

Fuck him. Fuck Hyunjin. He’s a fucking dickhead. 

You slowly tried to regulate your breathing, staring at the ceiling and occasionally shutting your eyelids as you tried to put your mind to something else. That girl can have him all she wants, and you were just done with him.

You needed to take your mind off of this, put yourself out there to forget about him, but what is there to do? Maybe you can hang out with a friend, listen to music, talk to new people, and what’s a good way to do all at once? A fun night at the club, of course.

Loud music plays through the speakers that surround the entire room, people being able to be spotted in every single corner, everyone having their different reasons for being there. Some want to hit up with others, some want to bond with their friends, some wanna have a drink, and some want to forget their miserable ex. In your case, it was all of the above.

You were walking past the crowd, trying to get past people and constantly angling your body to get through, and once you were finally at a corner with lesser people, you released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. You were enthusiastic at the idea of going to the club, but now that you were actually here, the atmosphere was quite overwhelming.

There were people who were literally all over each other, making out with each other as if they weren’t surrounded by a hoard of people, people vomiting and drinking, and people who were just there to dance and vibe to the music. You took out your phone from your purse, nervously checked the chats with your friend and typed to ask them what they were.

Just as you sent a message, you felt a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump and immediately shoot your head at the person tapping your shoulder, and you release a sigh of relief once you realise it was your friend. Sim Jaeyun, the worker you met at the cafe a while ago. He nervously laughed and scratched his neck as he blinked at you, “This was the last thing I expected when you asked me to go out.”

You laugh at his comment, his presence being a sense of reassurance in an atmosphere of people you didn’t know. You smiled at him, “Is this your first time at a club?”.

He ran his hand through his hair, huffing his breath and blowing his fringe, “I mean, no, but the last time I was here I was just stuck to my friend ‘cause I had no idea what to do..”.

Your eyes lit up at his response, “Right! Like you have no clue how to dance, or if you should talk to someone new, y’know?”. You felt even more comforted that someone was exactly like you, clueless on what to do when you were in the club.

The club was famous for letting people forget their emotions, but you only felt like you confronted your feelings more in the club. He shook his head aggressively, snapping his fingers and pointing at you “Exactly that!”.

As time passes by, you and Jake start to get to know each other, like how he owns a pet dog named Layla and how he loves building legos. You also learnt that he came from Australia (which was kinda obvious from his accent) and that he’s a music-freak - he knows how to play so many instruments that you can’t even name all. You two had bought drinks and were sitting on a table, just chatting as you both got to know each other.

“Hey, I gotta go to the toilet real quick, yeah?”. You gave him a quick smile and nodded, watching him as he stood up and left for the toilet. You relaxed on your seat and sighed, feeling happy that you had a night to get to know someone new, and it felt like forever since you’ve done that considering how much Hyunjin had restricted you.

As you folded your arms and stared into blank space, you felt an arm wrap around you and you immediately flinched, trying to shift away but couldn’t. You turned and saw a man, probably in his late 20s and your stomach drops, suddenly freezing and being unable to do anything. You could tell that he didn't have good intentions, his smug smile telling you everything as he eyed you up and down.

“What’s a pretty babe doing alone in a club like this, hm?” the man said, his tone confident yet sounding so suffocating and your breath hitched, unable to form words as you just stared at the man. 

“Why do you seem so uncomfortable?” he laughed out loud and you nervously laughed, your eyes constantly blinking as you looked down to your feet, feeling so small as he pulled you closer, feeling his warmth against your body.

You wanted to push him away, you wanted to scream at him for touching you but for some reason you just couldn’t do anything. Your heart was rapidly beating as your breathing picked up the pace, anxiety starting to grow inside you as you got nervous about what the man would do to you. 

“Baby, do you like this?” he suddenly put his hand on your thigh, making you gasp and hold your breath. Tears were forming in your eyes as you bit your lip hard, not realising the cut that formed.

“S-stop..” you softly cried out.

“Why baby? Don’t you like it?” his hand slowly traced up your thigh, and you were regretting wearing a skirt to the club. You felt the tears break free from your eyes and you shut your eyes, not being able to fight back. That was until you heard a loud thud beside you and his arm on your thigh being hastily removed.

You shot your eyes open to see what happened and saw the man holding his face as he was forced to turn to you. You looked up further and saw Hyunjin, panting and his face full of fury as he held up his fist, his position as if he just punched the man.

“H-Hyunjn..” you weakly called out, and for a second his gaze softened as he looked at you but was quickly averted to the man. You suddenly forgot all your hatred for him when you saw him again.

“Get. Your fucking hands. Off of her.” Hyunjin commanded, his eyes full of rage as his jaw clenched and his fists shaking, his fingers white from how tightly he was clenching his hands.

The man simply turned his gaze back to Hyunjin, chuckling slowly as he looked at Hyunjin’s expression, scoffing at the sight in front of him, his hand touching the spot on his face that got punched. “And why should I?” the man taunted and leaned back to you, his arm remained wrapped around your shoulders and you stiffened up further.

Hyunjin smirked and cracked his neck, the sounds being loud “You better listen before things get fucking messy, old man, now get your hands off of her. I won’t repeat myself again.”

The man shook his head and laughed, “Look man, I’m not trying to-”.

And before you knew it, the man got punched again and you gasped at the sudden action, your hands flying to your mouth. You noticed how there was now blood flowing out of the man’s nose, and that Hyunjin was tilting his neck and pulling up his sleeves, his eyes almost looking psychotic as he rubbed his fists, his gaze fixated on the man and watching his every move.

You looked at the man and he looked like he lost his mind, his grin so wide and he started to laugh uncontrollably, his head slowly turned back to Hyunjin. His arm slithered away from you and he stood up from the chair, walking up to Hyunjin. “Do you fucking know who you’re messing with?” the man threatened, his head tilted and Hyunjin simply stared down at him. 

Suddenly, Hyunjin grabbed his collar and heatbutted him, “Look, I don’t give a fuck about who you are, you touch my girl again I’m fucking killing you, got it?”. You were afraid that a fight was going to break out, but the man simply pushed away, lifting his hands as if he was surrendering and he shook his head, “I got you man, no need to be so fucking sensitive”.

The man was about to pat Hyunjin’s back to form a truce but Hyunjin gripped his wrists tightly and only glared at him, his glare being enough to tell him to fuck off and the man simply went away, glancing once more at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

“Y/N” he called out to you, his eyes still being full of fury as you stared at him. Deep down, you still hated him, but given that he just saved you from that situation, all you could think about was how grateful you were to him, how much you wanted to go back to him, how much you wanted him again. You stood up from your seat and walked towards him, saying nothing and pulling him into a tight embrace.

Upon coming into contact with you, he froze but after a few seconds you could feel his hands rest on your back, slowly caressing you as you found comfort in his hands, almost wanting to burst out crying from the situation you just experienced.

“Sorry, is this your boyfriend?” a voice spoke out and you immediately pulled back from the hug to see Jaeyun. Your eyes immediately widen and you start laughing nervously, not knowing how to respond. Hyunjin stepped towards the guy, clearly feeling threatened, “And who could you be?”. 

You immediately step in, “Hyunjin, this is Jaeyun, Jaeyun this is Hyunjin”. You nervously smiled and scratched your neck. Jaeyun was smiling at Hyunjin while Hyunjin was glaring at him. You realised that you needed to thank Hyunjin, and also that you and him needed to have a talk.

“Ha..ha.. Jaeyun, let's meet again another time, thanks for tonight,” you said as you grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist and started to pull him out. You looked over your shoulder as you started to walk out, watching as Jake smiled and said his goodbyes.

Once you and Hyunjin were out of the club, you and him stood under a streetlight, and you were now face to face with him. As you looked at him, you noticed his stern expression still being present. “Who is he and where did you meet him?” he questioned, his tone evidently displeased.

You were taken aback by how pissed he sounded, your anger for him slowly returning and overpowering your gratitude for him, “Now why does that matter when you literally had a girl over just a while ago, huh?”.

Hyunjin groaned while running his hand through his hair, biting his lip, “Look, I know you might not believe me but I broke it off with her?”.

“And how am I supposed to know if you’re lying or not?!” you yelled.

“I swear this time. I kicked her out that very day you saw her, blocked her and even broke it off.” he said, his tone sounding serious but you had no idea if you should trust him or not. 

“Look, you’ve lied to me once and you can do it again, Hyunjin,” you stated, your heart aching.

“No, please, I understand why you’re mad at me, and I’m a fucking dick for it, Y/N, but please just trust me this one time,” he pleaded, his gaze softening as he took a step towards you, his hand moving upwards to hold you by the waist but you slapped his hand away.

“Hyunjin, trust me, I really want to trust you, but I don’t want to constantly get disappointed and hurt again,” you spat out, “Do you know how hurt I felt when you literally lied to my face and that girl just appeared right behind you?”.

“And do you know how angry I felt when I saw you with that guy?!” he snapped, causing you to flinch. He noticed and his gaze softened, “I-I’m sorry-”

“I don’t give a fuck Hyunjin, you hurt me so much, do you think I care if you’re angry?” your voice cracked and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes as you relive the pain you felt just a while ago.

“Please Y/N, give me another chance, I promise you I won’t hurt you again,” he pleaded, sounding desperate as he took another step closer, your bodies almost touching as he looked at you. 

He continued, “Don’t.. Walk away from me.. Don’t walk away from me.. please..?” 

You shook your head, biting your lip, “Hyunjin.. I really don’t know..”. He cupped your cheeks and his eyes softened as he saw your hurt expression. He caressed your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes looking at your facial features. 

“I’ll do anything it takes to earn your forgiveness again, please?” he pleaded once more and all you could wish for was your heart to stop beating so fast so you could think straight.

“Okay,” you replied, but it came out as a raspy whisper. “Can I.. kiss you?” he questioned, his eyes already on your lips as he slowly started to lean closer to your face. You nodded your head, afraid that you were making the wrong choice, but your heart longed for this, your heart longed for him, and at this point you weren’t even thinking about the consequences.

As his lips finally landed on yours, you felt the tears break free from your eyes. He angled his head for more access to your mouth and your hands grabbed his shirt, slowly pulling him closer. The kiss was hesitant, Hyunjin probably afraid you would’ve pushed him away or reacted negatively, but once you responded, he released the breath he never realised he was holding in.

His mouth moved so tenderly against yours, mouths moving in a similar rhythm as he tries to show you how much he loves you without any words. His hands slowly slithered down to your waist and pulled you impossibly closer, feeling his warmth against you and you could slowly feel yourself losing to this kiss.You knew you’d only get hurt over and over again if you were with him, but being with him just feels so right. His lips complemented yours so well, and the way you both always ran back to each other just proves that the feeling was mutual. 

You felt yourself growing breathless so you tapped his chest, signalling to pull back but he interpreted it different and only kissed you harder, causing you to form a muffled whimper as he kisses you more passionately, his lips moving more vigorously and he ran his lip on your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance and you obey. Your head was feeling fuzzy as he continued, slipping his tongue into your mouth and your tongues fighting in a fiery battle for dominance. He finally pulled back, panting heavily as he rested his forehead on yours and stared into your eyes intensely.

“Tonight, stay with me, okay?” he pleaded, his eyes soft as he continued to pant, his lips agape. You nodded, your heart about to burst from how fast it was beating. You stared at him, noticing the bruised spot on his cheek from your slap and you caressed the spot lightly, feeling guilty for it

Few days after the incident at the club, you and he became close again, reverting back to your old non-labelled relationship, your kisses being more passionate and your greed for each other being increasingly evident.

Today, he wanted to have a game-night with his boys and also invite you over, wanting your presence around him even as he hung out with his friends.

Maybe he was improving, since back then he wouldn’t even want to bring you near his friends from the fear of them finding out that you two were a thing.

Maybe now that he was more open to his friends seeing you and him together, he was serious about you, and maybe he’d be asking you out soon. Who knows? 

Your heart flutters at the thought, thinking about all the different ways he would ask you out. Maybe he was going to do it while the other boys were around. Maybe another day, and he’d gift you a bouquet of flowers? Maybe a romantic dinner - the list goes on and on, but you just couldn’t wait to make it official with him.

Game night he said. His friends were sitting around you on the couch as 4 of them hold up Switch controllers, all of them yelling at each other as they stare intensely at the screen, trying to get the task in the game done.

In the room there was Chan, Minho, Jisung, Seungmin and of course, Hyunjin himself. Since there were only 4 controllers, everyone but you and Seungmin was playing, and you just awkwardly watched as they continuously shout random call-outs to each other. Seungmin was to your left, and Hyunjin was to your right, your legs in physical contact.

Being aware that Hyunjin was too occupied with the game, you looked at Seungmin who was attentively watching the screen, and feeling your gaze on him, he quickly looked back at you to form eye contact. He gave you a small grin and greeted you, “Hey Y/N”.

You knew Seungmin but never really talked to him even in class since he was always around other people. At other times, he was around Hyunjin, and you and Hyunjin never really talked publicly for.. many reasons, of course. This was the first time you actually had the opportunity to talk to him properly, and you mirrored the smile, greeting him back.

“Hey, Seungmin”.

You knew that even if he hung out with Hyunjin who could be a bad influence, Seungmin’s kind heart still remained, and your impression on him always remained positive from the times you see him in class. “How are you?” you questioned, feeling less awkward as you finally find someone to chat to while the others are busy with their game.

“Been okay, just been having my usual baseball practices, class been tough lately, you?”, he replied, the soft smile never leaving his face. You looked around the room and hummed like you were thinking and you shrugged, “Just been the same, I recently managed to find my lost camera so that’s great”. Upon saying that, you glanced at Hyunjin who was still chaotically playing his game, holding his fist up to cheer once they managed to finish their mission. 

“Is that so? Must be nice finding something you lost,” “I agree,” someone to your right voiced out, feeling an arm wrap around your shoulder as they pulled you closer. You looked to your right and made eye contact with Hyunjin, him giving you a smug expression as you glared at him since he was the culprit.

“Say, wanna play Y/N? I bought a new game earlier this week, I think it’s pretty fun” Hyunjin questioned, his smug expression never leaving his face as your eyes softened, and you slowly nodded your head, “Why not?”.

Next thing you knew, you were holding the console and chasing after Hyunjin in the game. Apparently, the game name was 'Cops N Robbers’, and you scream at him from all the tactics he uses to juke you. The game setting was in prison, and you were the cop while he was the robber. There were snickers from the other boys who were also playing, finding it hilarious how naive you were to games and how Hyunjin could easily trick you. 

“Y/N, don’t you think this reminds you of us?” He suddenly blurts out in the middle of his laughter. Still furious, trying to chase him, pressing the buttons aggressively “What the hell do you mean? Just get back here!”.

Hyunjin continued to laugh, “Like how you always chase me, y’know!”.

Your fingers stop moving on the console, taking the time to straighten your posture and look him in the eye. He sensed your gaze on him and he did the same, leaning back on the couch to give you his mischievous expression that you had a love-hate relationship with. Your face turned sour as you immediately understood his implication, and the corner of his mouth curved up while raising his eyebrows.

“It’s not one-sided, Hyun, it’s mutual,” you stated, your tone dead serious.

Hyunjin simply smiled, his eyes practically lighting up, “I know.”

You excused yourself after a while to use the restroom, needing a moment to yourself and as you finished washing your hands, you walked down the hallway and heard the other’s voices while wiping your damp hands on your shirt. You felt uneasy as you recalled the conversation you had earlier with him. ‘Like how you always chase me’  ‘I know’

So he knows that the two of you are after each other. Wouldn’t that mean that there is something special then? Maybe.. there is a need for establishment?

You stared into blank space, their voices gradually getting louder as you get closer, their words falling on deaf ears until you heard something that stood out to you. 

“Are you guys seriously not going to get together?”

You feel your body turn cold and you instantly halt to a stop. You stopped breathing as if they would be able to hear you, and you slowly shuffled your way closer to be able to hear their conversation better. You peeked into the living room, seeing the back of their heads while seated on a couch, still playing. 

You saw Seungmin avert his head to Hyunjin, “Yeah, seriously, the way y'all look at each other is insane.”

Seungmin wasn’t wrong. Your eyes then went to Hyunjin, though it was only the view of the back of his head, hopeful that his response would be something you wished for.

“Why do we need a label?”.

Oh. He continued, “Her and I are fine as we are now, we don’t need a label.”

Your heart dropped, shattered, sunk. His words were like a knife that just stabbed you in the heart, and it definitely was the opposite of the response you desired. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t hurt, but maybe he was right. Maybe a label is not needed, maybe you were just too expectant.

You instantly turned your back and sprinted back to the toilet, not caring if you were making noise. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you were not about to cry. Not now.

The boys had probably noticed your presence from the sounds you made as you shut the toilet door shut, looking into the mirror and turning on the faucet to wash your face.

One half of you was telling you that you should stop hoping, while the other half was telling you to establish what the both of you were,, and it was the only thing you could think about.

Fuck it. You’ll ask him later. 

You stared at your own reflection on the mirror, the features of worry taking over as you bit your lip, praying for the best. If not, you were praying you’d be able to take his response well. You didn’t know which was scarier - losing him or yourself in the process.

“Hyunjin, don’t you think you’re too obsessed with that camera? It’s literally all you ever hold nowadays..” Seungmin grumbled, holding onto Hyunjin who was trying to pull his arm back. Seungmin pulled Hyunjin into the crowd of people, loud music blasting from the speakers that were placed at every corner of the place, people dancing and getting all over each other.

It was a sight that Hyunjin wasn’t unfamiliar with, but a sight that he wasn’t that uncomfortable with. The room was slightly dark, the disco lights flashing rainbow colours and Hyunjin sighed, wishing he was anywhere else but at the club. 

“Now why’d you drag me here again?” Hyunjin grumbled, looking around the room, probably finding something he could photograph. He brought the camera to his eyes, angling it around to find something that could be photographed, whether it was the crowds of people dancing, or the sofa area where people were getting messy with each other.

“You’re such a fucking loser, y’know? Stuck in your room all day, get a girlfriend for fucks sake,” Seungmin hissed, sick of his best friend having an image of a loser. 

“What’s the point? Relationships are so troublesome,” Hyunjin complained, still shifting his body to find anything to photograph until his camera is directly pointed to you, standing at one corner, talking  to one of your girl friends and he accidentally snapped a photo, the flash turning on and he immediately tried to cover the flash with his hand, bringing the camera down frantically.

“Who’re you taking a photo of?” Seungmin followed the direction that Hyunjin was looking at, his eyes landing on you laughing with your other girl friends and he sighs.

“No one, it was an accident,” Hyunjin spat out, clearly flustered that he almost took a photo of a stranger. 

“Are you interested in her?” Seungmin suddenly questioned, causing Hyunjin to choke on hair, putting his hand on his chest as he tried to stop coughing. Seungmin shook his head and patted his friend’s back, helping him to let all the air out.

“It’s okay to be interested. I’m kinda grateful you found something else other than your camera interesting for once,” Seungmin teased, watching Hyunjin recover and stand back straight.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, “Who is she?”. Seungmin smirked at his question, “That’s Y/N, she’s in the same class as me.”

“Is that so?” "Yeah, you like her?" Seungmin turned his neck to him, smirking at the boy. "Yeah."

After Hyunjin said goodbye to the boys at his apartment door, the sounds of the door closing and feet shuffling towards you could be heard. Your eyes were closed, head resting against the cushion of the couch as you folded your arms for extra warmth, and you felt a weight sink you down on the couch beside you. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to lay on their shoulder and you inhaled a familiar scent, a scent that drove you crazy without fail.

You opened your eyes and looked up at Hyunjin who had his gaze locked onto you, his gaze dark as he scanned your features slowly. Your eyes, nose, lips, and he also studied your behaviour, noticing how you mirrored his actions and how your chest was rising up and down at a slow but steady pace.

His expression was unreadable - as usual, and the amount of thoughts that fill your head became overwhelming. No words were spoken, and you had no idea what was going to happen now that you and him were alone. So many questions you wanted to ask, and you were so afraid that if you said the wrong thing, he was going to slip away. 

“What are you thinking about?” he spat out, finally breaking the silence between the two of you.

You hum in thought, thinking about the right words while looking into his eyes, your eyes flickering to his lips every once in a while and you finally respond, “Us”. It took a lot of confidence for you to confess that, and you bit your lip anxiously, almost instantly regretting it as you thought about how he would react to it. 

The way your eyes constantly flickered to his lips didn’t go unnoticed, and the corner of his mouth curves up, his hands snaking down from around your shoulders to your waist,  bringing you to closer proximity as he leaned in, “What are you talking about, Y/N?”. 

His hot breath hits your lips, his eyelids halfway closed as you finally shoot the question that you’ve been dying to ask, “What are we?”.

In almost an instant, you could feel the mood of the atmosphere change. Hyunjin's breath hitched, leaning backwards and he looked at you, his expression still unreadable.

You loved how handsome he was, but you absolutely despised how you could never read him, never predict how he felt or what he was going to do next. Your eyes fell on his lips, watching how it was opening and you were anticipating his answer.

“It’s late, you should go home,” his tone shifted, sounding cold and distant. “What?” you looked at him, your eyes widened as you felt bewildered at his response. Is that even considered a response?

“You must be tired, let’s talk soon, yeah?” He moved back, removing his arm around your waist as he folded his arms, his gaze averting to the light above the two of you.

“Hyun-”

“I’m tired, Y/N, I can’t bring you home, sorry, I’m going to sleep now, goodnight.”

You watched as he stood up from the couch, the weight beside you disappearing. He was so evidently avoiding eye contact and he started to walk towards his room. Before he could step into his room, you stood up and blurted out, “I heard your conversation earlier!”.

He suddenly freezes, a few moments of silence before he turns around, his eyes finally meeting yours. “It’s not important, I don’t want to talk about it,” he firmly stated. This time, you could tell that he looked uncomfortable, angry even. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was sucking the insides of his cheeks, his jaw clenched.

This sight of him was like another knife added to your heart, and you bit your lip as you slowly nodded, “Okay.”

You didn’t know if it was appropriate, but you spoke up, “Goodnight, Hyun.”

You turned your back on him, picking all your things on the couch before pacing for the door, and as soon as you stepped outside, you slammed his front door shut. Once you were outside, you exhaled as if you were holding in a large amount of air and you leaned against the door, rethinking about what you just asked.

The thing you just asked may have just potentially ruined your entire relationship and you wanted to beat yourself up for it, wanting to turn back time and keep your mouth shut, but whatever’s been done is done, and you just have to wait and see what happens.

Before you knew it, it was the start of a period where he didn’t contact you. Like, at all.

Heck, he even avoided you like the plague. On campus whenever you’d see him, he’d notice you then turn the other away, pretending like he didn’t see you at all. You’d go to the photography club to see him more often and on days you were lucky, he was there, but he’d be occupied talking to someone else.

You’d patiently wait until he was finished conversing with the person but when he was done, he would find an excuse to leave as soon as possible. And every single time he did, he had this unpleasant expression on his face. It was the same one you saw the night you dropped the question on him, and you watched him slip away from you.

With Hyunjin practically gone from your life, you had more free time to hang out with Jay, but everytime you were with Jay on campus, you’d always catch Hyunjin staring at the two of you in your peripheral view, immediately looking away once eye contact was formed.

If you were going to be honest, you felt like shit. Were you seriously in the wrong for wanting to establish something? Wanting to make things official?

The first few days, you cried your eyes out, burying yourself in your blanket and feeling regretful for asking him in the first place. You constantly checked your phone for any notifications from him and reread your past chats to relive the past emotions. Once you even called him on accident, your face going cold but before you could drop the call, he had already rejected it.

Talk about brutal. 

When Hyunjn was gone from your life, your life became peaceful, but was it really peaceful when he intentionally did it without warning? You eventually accepted it, limiting the amount of times you open your chats with him and looking out for him in the hallways. 

3 weeks fly by, and you were so convinced that you’ve moved on from him - except you didn’t.

You tried finding the spark in other guys, like Jay, but your heart never melted for him the same way it did for Hyunjin. Your eyes never scanned the room for him like you did for Hyunjin, and you never checked your phone for his notifications like you did for Hyunjin. 

What made it worse was that even with Hyunjin avoiding you, he was always somehow around you. Always. 

In your favourite cafe whenever you were about to leave, you’d feel someone’s gaze on you and when you look up, you'd accidentally make eye contact with someone and it would've been him. He was definitely watching you the entire time you were there and you remained clueless about it.

Another time when you were eating lunch with Jay, you saw him at the corner of your eye, watching as he sucked his inner cheek and clenching his jaw. 

You felt so many emotions. You felt upset and humiliated because you realised you were being toyed with, longing because you missed his touch and also satisfaction from the way he seemed jealous whenever you were with someone else and that he was always watching you.

It was as if you won the game, having him wrapped around your fingers and following you around like a dog, watching your every move. No matter how much you were in love with him, you were satisfied that you were getting under his skin and getting a reaction out of it, you loved seeing him pissed. It was difficult, but it used up every muscle in you to not lose self-respect to contact him again, whether it was by approaching him in real life or texting him.

You were sitting in front of your mirror, the air conditioner on, windows shut and the room dimly lit as you do your skincare, your thoughts drifting to Hyunjin when you suddenly get a notification.

As you swiped up a fair amount of moisturiser from the container into your index and middle finger, you looked at the direction of where your phone was facing downwards and shrugged it off, thinking that the message can be attended to after your self-care session. You applied the cream on your face, ensuring that each area on your face had equal amounts of it when your phone ding-ed again.

And again.

You raised your eyebrows and rushed to spread the cream evenly on your face, curious to who could be messaging you at this time at night. You hurriedly wiped the remaining cream on your neck as you quickly picked your phone up. You were expecting a spam notification from one of those brands you forgot you subscribed to, or maybe a message from Jay or Jake, but it was one you were never expecting.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : hey im outside

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : open the door 

Your eyes widened as your head shot forward in disbelief. You didn’t know if he was joking and was about to just turn your phone off until another one came in.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : please

Next thing you know, you swung your apartment door open to reveal a Hyunjin who was panting, probably from running, his leather jacket wrapped around his wide figure and you eyed him up and down, not believing the sight in front of you. You knew that you were going to see him again, but you never expected it to be at his own accord. Your jaw dropped slightly, your eyes scanning his entire figure.

“I’m cold, can I please go inside?”

Still slightly confused, you nodded your head slowly and moved aside, gesturing for him to go inside and he gave you a small smile, stepping in and you closed the door as he entered. You watched as he removed his shoes and placed it at the rack at the spot he usually places it.

Without looking back, he stepped into your living room as if he hadn't ignored your existence for  3 whole weeks.

You quickly followed behind him, watching his every move. It almost felt unreal that Hyunjin himself was in your living room, walking around. He set himself down on your couch, a loud sigh leaving him and he pursed his lips, looking up at you. Eye contact with Hyunjin wasn’t new, but with the thing of him ghosting you, you almost thought you were dreaming. You stared at him with your mouth slightly agape, your eyes not blinking even once as he chuckled.

“Why.. are you here?” you finally mutter out the question that confused you the most.

“I missed you,” he replied with no hesitation.

You were taken aback at how easily he could just show up at your place out of nowhere and just admit he misses you after ghosting your entire existence for a long period of time. 

“What the fuck?” you blurted out, features of disgust taking over you.

“Look, I know I ignored you, okay? But-” “Yeah, you better have known you fucking did.”

He sighed, looking down and leaning forward, his arms resting on his knees and hands clamped together before continuing, “I just needed time. Time for myself.”

“For what exactly?” you shook your head in disbelief.

“I don’t know, my head was just.. Kinda all over the place,” there was a moment of silence before he continued, “I’m here because I want to make it up to you.”

“I’m not forgiving you so easily, Hyunjin. You threw me away too easily for 3 whole weeks.” “You’re counting?” “Of course I am, dipshit!” you shot and he only shook his head, a playful smile on his face indicating he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“I know it won’t be easy, but just give me another chance, hmm?” he pleaded, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at you, flashing a small pout. 

You cross your arms, biting your lip as your mind gets flooded with so many thoughts. You wanted to forgive him, but you were afraid he was going to throw you away again. You wanted to shut him out, but you feel empty without him. “You can’t just leave and expect me to accept you into my life so easily,” you shot, feeling overwhelmed that you had to make a decision.

He stared at you in silence, so many thoughts behind his eyes before he suddenly held his hand up, “Let’s go on a walk”.

You tilted your neck, “Are you crazy?!’. You turned your head to look at the clock hanging near you, “It’s literally past midnight, Hyunjin!”.

“I know,” he replied, with no emotions in his voice. “I’ll bring you to eat your favourite,” he added.

“It’s cold outside,” you gave another excuse. He immediately unzipped his jacket, discarding it from his body and offered it to you. You shook your head in disbelief, “I just can’t-”.

“Please? Pretty sure your favourite cafe is still open, and I know a few photography spots if you wanna bring your camera along,” he asked again, his words so tempting. You sighed, not believing what you were going to say next, “Fine”.

That night, he brought you out to Chronos Brews, treated you to anything you wanted and you two eventually started to talk again, though you had your guard up.

You brought your camera and he really did bring you to a few photography spots that were amazing despite it being night time. You did this once.

And twice.

Thrice.

A fourth time wouldn’t hurt right?

He was now the one frequently messaging you, double-texting (sometimes even triple) and calling you at night just to hear your voice, and facetime you just to see your face. He even brought you flowers on a random occasion and you two went to school together, frequently heading to the photography club to chill together afterwards and hanging out afterwards. It was like how it was before, but you saw him even more frequently and you had no idea if it was a good or bad thing. But as long as your heart feels happy, right?

Frequently when you were with him, you’ve always felt a bit scared that he would just slip away again, part of you thinking it was because you asked the question but you tried to brush it off, thinking that you were just overreacting and that you should just be happy with whatever you have now. 

Everything is so perfect now, why ruin it because of your overthinking?

You laid in his bed, his arms wrapped around you as he gently caressed and patted your back, his touch making you feel sleepy. The past few days have been amazing. Hyunjin was now doing everything that a boyfriend would do - bringing you more flowers, playing songs on his guitar for you, calling you every night just because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face, acting intimate with you even in the public eye.

He surely seemed more serious about you, wanting to show everyone that you belonged only to him, glaring and threatening anyone else who showed signs that they wanted to hit on you or even befriend you. You looked up at him, the way his eyes were closed and his bangs were covering his eyebrows, looking so peaceful.

You could tell that he was gradually falling asleep from how his hand movements got slower and weaker, and you only stared at his features, softly giggling to yourself about how cute he looked. His chest rose up and down slowly, his body completely relaxed with you in his arms and you could only wish that you and him could stay like this forever.

Sitting on his couch, your eyes were glued to his bare back as he stood at his kitchen sink, washing the dishes after you and him had eaten dinner together. You softly smiled, feeling comforted by his presence, finally feeling like he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

“Hyun,” you softly called out, and he hummed in response, his head slightly turning over his shoulder as he continued to wash the dishes.

“Come here, quick,” you pleaded, wanted to feel his warmth again and he chuckles, nodding his head but not sparing a glance at you. You observed as he finished washing the dishes, placing the plates on the drying rack and washing his hands before he turned his back, eyes forming eye contact and he approached you with a small grin on his face.

He sat himself beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest, “Miss me that much?”. You giggled and nodded your head, ruffling your head into his neck. 

“Hyun,” you softly called out, your heart starting to beat faster as you mustered up courage to shoot the question again.

You continued, “Can I ask you a question?”. He hummed, caressing your shoulder with his thumb, and you shot your gaze at him, looking at him with doe eyes. 

“What is it, Y/N?” he smiled down at you, his eyes filled with affection. Looking at how comfortable he was, it warmed up your heart and made your chest feel fuzzy, butterflies filling your stomach and you couldn’t help but feel that your feelings were being properly reciprocated. 

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” you asked, suddenly feeling hesitant. You had faith that he wouldn’t get angry anymore from how much the two of you have been bonding the past few weeks, but you still felt dubious since you remember how fast he switched up the last time you asked him the question. You were afraid he was going to slip away again, but you were hoping that this time he’d react differently.

“As long as it’s not that one dumbass question, I won’t,” he chuckled and your heart instantly dropped. Your smile started to fade and you blinked at him in confusion,

“What ‘dumbass’ question are you.. Referring to?”.

“That stupid ‘what are we’ question or whatever you asked last time,” he spoke, the smile on his face remaining which caused your heart to shatter. Even after all this time with you, he still didn’t want to establish anything and even called the question ‘stupid’.

You immediately pulled away from him, features of hurt on your face as it was now his turn to be confused, the warmth he felt from you slowly disappearing. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and the way he was so clueless made you feel so irritated, “Oh..” he now understood your reaction, “Don’t tell me you were going to ask that shit again..”.

“I don’t see what’s so ‘stupid’ about it, Hyunjin” you spat out, frowning your eyebrows as you felt a knife stab your heart.

“No-” he seemed flabbergasted by your response and scoffed, “I don’t see what’s so important about knowing what we are, Y/N,” his words twisted the knife in your heart, and you clenched your fists, your fingers turning paper white from how tightly you were clenching them, “Can’t we just be happy as we are? Don’t you think it’s fun?”

“It’s not fucking fun, Hyunjin!” you snapped, and his eyes widened, taken aback that you raised your voice at him. He stared at you, his jaw dropped and his eyes darkened, his eyes expressing how infuriated he felt.  You continued, “I’m worried every single fucking day that you’re going to just suddenly slip away one day, Hyun,” you bit your lip and your voice started to crack, “Why don’t you want the same thing? After everything?”.

He took a deep breath and turned away for a second, huffing air afterwards and causing his bangs to fly up. “Do you realise how much of a clingy, annoying bitch you sound right now?!” he yelled, causing you to flinch. Your eyes widened as you realised what he said, bewildered that he could say such degrading words to you. You both stared at each other, the weight of the air being heavy and the knife in your heart twisting even more now.

“Clingy.. Annoying.. Bitch?” you repeated, your voice soft and in disbelief as you still needed to process what he said to you.

“I thought you were different, Y/N, it was more fun when you weren’t worried about all these shitty things,” he continued, and you shook your head. “Since I’m not so fucking different, then I can just walk out right now, can’t I?” you stood up from the couch, your body still fully facing him as you kept your guard up in case he tried to do anything to you. 

“Fuck, just go! I don’t give a fuck!” he yelled and you could feel tears forming in your eyes, but you weren’t crying. Not right now, not in front of him. You weren’t going to let a dick break your heart and make you feel sad. You flashed him a hurt expression and almost in a snap, his facial expression softened, “Wait- Y/N- I didn’t mean tha-”

“I’ll go since you want me gone so bad,” you stormed to his room to take the bag that was laying on the floor, looking around to ensure you left nothing behind. He quickly followed behind you, trying to get you to look at him, “Y/N, please look at me”.

You ignored all his pleads, not even sparing him a glance as you walked past him out of his room, already heading straight for the door. He grabbed your wrist and you stopped moving, “Please, I didn’t mean that Y/N and you know that”.

You flicked his hand away from your wrist, turning your body to look at him, tears already breaking free from your eyes as you shouted, “I’m fucking sick of being treated just as one of your toys! I’m done Hyun, I don’t wanna see you anymore!”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean it-”

“I’m done. I’m done with.. whatever we have!”

You turned your back to him, heading straight for the door. This was the moment you’d never thought you’d be experiencing so soon. You were so afraid of the day that this was going to happen, and now that it happened, you had no idea how to feel. You opened his front door and looked at him one more time before stepping out and slamming the door shut. 

The day you left, he tried to contact you multiple times, whether it was call, text, going to your house, approaching you in school, but you brushed him away every single time. You didn't want to deal with his bullshit anymore, but he wanted you to let you understand his perspective. The last time you saw him, he mentioned a time, date and location. You had the choice to go, but you didn't know if you were going to meet him. You didn't know if you were ready or if it was worth hearing it.

That day eventually came, and you were just hugging your pillow, all cozy in your bed. Your phone vibrated and you lazily rolled over your bed to pick it up and see what notification you received. Your heart aching when you realised it was from him, a feeling you were so familiar with.

hwangjin : hey

hwangjin : you remember we're meeting up right?

You knew that if you went, it could possibly be the end of everything. A part of you was so afraid of what he was going to say. You were about to turn off your phone until more notifications came in.

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : i'm really sorry, okay?

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : i really hope you come

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : give me a chance to explain myself

hwangjin ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ : okay?

You received another notification which broke your train of thought.

Weather Alert: 🌧️ Heavy Rain Expected! 🌧️ Get ready for showers! Rain is expected to start within the next hour and continue throughout the evening. Make sure to carry an umbrella and stay safe.

"Y/N!" the familiar voice called out to you, and you scanned around the cafe until you spotted the figure that was aggressively waving his hands and looking at you.

You sighed at the sight of him, not looking forward to the conversation you two are going to have. You took your time to walk to him, dragging the chair opposite of him and sitting yourself down, his eyes locked onto you and watching your every move.

You set your eyes on the table, realising how all your favourite items from the menu were nicely set down and you looked up at him, noticing his guilty expression.

"I.. bought your favourite!" His voice sounded nervous, and you looked at the classic New York cheesecake that was served on a nice small rounded plate, accompanied by the usual passion yoghurt smoothie that was packaged in a plastic cup, a small amount of whipping cream overflowing from the hole of the dome lid.

You raised your eyebrows at him, praying that whatever explanation he had would be convincing enough and make your anger for him perish.

You pick up the small fork that was resting on the plate and stab the cake, putting the cake to your mouth and chewing. You didn't say a single word, you wanted him to do all the talking so you could evaluate to see if he was even being serious about wanting to clear up the misunderstandings you both shared.

You savored the sweet taste that filled your taste buds as you continued to eat on the cake, patiently waiting for him to speak up.

"Y/N..." your eyes travelled to his, raising your eyebrows as you anticipated what he was going to say. "I love you."

You dropped your fork to the floor, creating a loud metallic sound across the entire cafe. You received glances from other people, but they quickly went back to their business. You blinked at Hyunjin in disbelief to what he had just confessed, and your mind that was overflowing with thoughts suddenly cleared up.

His confession didn't particularly make you feel overjoyed, just shocked. You'd be lying if you said you would have expected this.

"You.. love me?" you blurted out, still feeling taken aback by his sudden confession when you were expecting him to do anything else, like apologise or whatever.

"Yes. Yes I do," his voice sounded serious. You were never expecting the day that Hyunjin, your situationship, was going to be direct with his feelings and not fucking around.

"How so?" you shot out, curious as to his reasons on why he 'loves' you. A soft thunder accompanied your question, adding more suspense to the situation.

He looked slightly taken aback by your sudden question before he cleared his throat and looked around, blood rushing to the tips of his ears and a hint of pink flashing.

"I.. love the way you look so gorgeous" he hesitated, but he looked relieved after mustering up the courage to voice it out. You didn't feel satisfied one bit. You only felt annoyed at his answer, scoffing upon hearing it. "Okayyy? That's all?".

He seemed slightly puzzled as to how the first reason wasn't sufficient, but he cleared his throat and continued, "I like the way you kiss me.. hug me..". You rolled your eyes, not feeling a pinch of sincerity in his words and you sat back, folding your arms.

"Are you serious right now?" you scowled. Even a kid in elementary school could show more sincerity than Hyunjin, and this thought made you just want to slap him and leave him.

"Why wouldn't I be, Y/N?" he asked, giving you the puppy eyes before you roll your eyes once more, the annoyed feeling slowly turning into irritation. You spat out, "Let's be serious, Hyunjin. You're only with me for fun". A louder thunder was followed by your words, the sound of rain dropping commencing.

His facial expression immediately showed that he felt offended, and he defended himself, "If I was only with you for fun, I wouldn't be thinking about you every fucking second!".

'Now that's what I'm talking about.' you thought.

He continued to rambled on, "I wouldn't be imagining you while messing around with other people, or—"

"Okay, so what are we?"

He fell silent but he continued to stare at you, noticing the grimace on your face. He finally spoke up after a while, "We're friends".

'Ouch,' you thought.

"So we're friends that hug, kiss and get jealous over each other?" you contradicted his statement, your tone filled with sarcasm.

"Friends with benefits?" he stated, almost sounding confused and it made you want to scream at him.

"No.." you stood up from your chair, taking your belongings and he mirrors your actions, immediately standing up and panicking and feeling puzzled as to why you were preparing to leave. "Y/N��"

"No. I don't want to do this anymore." you stated, tears slowly forming in your eyes as you shot a glare at Hyunjin. He bit his lips and seemed unsure of what to do, and this sight of him broke your heart even more.

You picked up your bag, storming out and upon opening the front door of the cafe, you soon realised that it was pouring heavily, but it was the least of your concerns. You stepped out into the rain, feeling the cold water hit your skin and you shivered at the contrast in temperatures from inside and outside of the cafe.

You heard a voice behind you, "Wait, please!". You knew it was him, and it took every part of you to just not turn around and just continue walking, but you were forced to a stop when he gripped your wrist tightly to prevent you from walking even further. "Please.. can we just please talk?".

"I'm just.. so fucking confused! What the hell are we?!" you cried out, throwing his hand and turning your body to him, your tears continuously running down your cheeks but blending with the raindrops that fell onto your face. Your face wrinkled up, feeling so furious yet the emptiness in your heart yearning so much for Hyunjin.

Hyunjin's gaze softened at you, his eyes showing remorse as he cupped your cheeks, pecking your forehead before resting his forehead on yours. You continued, "I don't see a point in this, you already stated clearly that we're just friends with benefits, you don't want a label, but that's exactly what I want, Hyunjin".

"You love me, and I love you, so I don't see why it's so hard to—" you rambled on but your words were quickly put to a stop when he placed his lips on yours. Your hands immediately snaked up to his scalp, grabbing his hair while he cupped your cheeks, pulling your face closer to him. The kiss was slow and intimate, and it was almost like all your problems and misunderstanding vanished in one second.

The rain continued to pour, both of your bodies getting increasingly drenched but it was a problem that didn't bother you and Hyunjin. The warmth that was filling your bodies was sufficient, and the burning desire for each other only brought the two of you closer.

He tilted his neck in desperation to gain more access to you. He softly nibbled on your bottom lip, silently asking for permission for you to open your mouth, and without any reluctance, you opened your mouth.

Your tongue is immediately met with his, and they are swirling against each other. He took this chance to explore your mouth, your heart slowly melting at the passionate kiss. Blood rushed to your faces, both of your faces being a bright red as you both were desperate to sate your desires for each other.

It was obvious, you two were made for each other. Regardless if there was a label or not, you both always ran back into each other.

He softly pulled away, his eyes locked onto yours as he beamed at you. You returned an annoyed smile, and you ran your hand through his dripping hair, slicking it back.

"Please just tell me, I don't want to just be your 'maybe', Hyun," you stared into him, your gaze intense.

"For all I know, you aren't just a 'maybe', Y/N," he replied.

There were a few moments of silence before he continued, "I'm scared, Y/N, I really am," he tucked a hair that stuck to your face behind your ear, the raindrops never stopping to drench your bodies, "But I wanna figure it out with you, please".

You shook your head, not feeling completely satisfied but you were feeling happy that he was honest. He finally opened up to you, and you felt like it was a big improvement.

You two stared at each other for a moment, and you chuckled at the sight of him, warmth filling your heart as you felt like everything had changed. Realising that you were chuckling at him, he stuck his tongue out at you, and pecking your cheek afterwards, holding you oh-so-gently.

"Don't hurt me again," you said, but it came out as a raspy whisper and he slowly nodded.

"Of course," he replied. "I love you," he blurted out and it caught you off-guard, but you quickly composed yourself and chuckled at him, squeezing his cheek, "You're so adorable, you know?".

"Don't tease me, god,"

"I love you too," you replied. "I know you do"

And he pulled you into another kiss.

taglist! : @chwesuh-imnida @hyunlvrs @aft2rsexs @laylasbunbunny @neosracha @axhyyy @zennnnny @superbbananananana

@tsunderelino @skzdedgf (just thought you'd like to get tagged!)