#Han x oc

[estellan0vella]

Han Jisung’s Panty Protection Program: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 13.4K

CW: Themes of Invasion of Privacy (stolen underwear), Mentions of masturbation, sexual fluids, and references to a character using stolen underwear for sexual gratification, Jisung being dramatic, Light Violence, Discussions and depictions of crystals, tarot readings, and sage-burning rituals, Minho and reader shenanigans

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I Part II

Jisung’s room in the Alpha Phi frat house is a cosy mix of chaos and comfort. His bed, large enough to hold his perpetually sprawled form, sits in the corner with tangled navy sheets and a pile of mismatched pillows. Strawberry-scented incense wafts lazily from the nightstand, curling smoke weaving through the dim light of the room. Crystals are scattered everywhere, on his desk, his bookshelf, and the windowsill, casting faint glimmers when they catch the faint glow of the TV screen.

“Jagiya,” Jisung drawls, shifting so his bare chest brushes against your arm, his voice syrupy in that way it always is when he’s trying to get your attention. “You’re not even watching.”

The screen plays Howl’s Moving Castle, Jisung’s favourite movie, but it’s more background noise than entertainment for you. You’ve seen it around forty times now. Yet somehow, the plot remains a mystery because you always end up distracted. Like right now, as you shuffle your tarot cards, your grey lounge pants soft against Jisung’s thigh and your white bralette letting the cool air kiss your shoulders. Your hair’s in a messy bun, strands escaping to frame your face, and Jisung can’t stop staring at you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the room.

“Shh, I’m doing my reading,” you murmur, eyes focused on the cards. 

Zak, your two-year-old brindle Staffordshire Bull Terrier, gnaws happily on a bone in his dog bed near Jisung’s desk. His ears flick every so often, alert to the sound of your voice, but he’s content to leave you be. He loves it here as much as you do; the space is as much yours as it is Jisung’s, even if you don’t technically live here.

Jisung leans his chin on your shoulder, his dark blue hair tickling your neck. “You’ve seen this one card a million times. What’s it mean this time?”

You flip the final card, a slight shiver crawling up your spine. “The Seven of Swords,” you say, holding it up. The illustration glares at you, sharp and accusing.

“And?” Jisung prompts, though his tone is playful, his attention still half on you and half on the screen. “Good news or bad news?”

You hesitate. “It’s not great.”

That gets his attention. He turns fully toward you, propping himself up on his elbow. His sweatpants ride low on his hips, and his tone softens. “You worried about it, jagiya?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the card sits heavy in your mind. “It’s just... It’s a warning. Dishonesty, deceit, manipulation, cheating, theft. But it doesn’t mean that something bad is happening right now. It just means to be cautious, you know? I think I just need to pick up more crystals.”

Jisung snorts, ruffling your hair affectionately. “More crystals? Jagiya, my room already sparkles enough to blind someone.”

“There’s no such thing as too much sparkle,” you quip, giving him a pointed look as you start gathering your deck back into a neat pile. The strawberry incense has burned low now, but the sweet scent lingers.

Jisung’s lips twitch into a lopsided grin. “Your eyes sparkle enough to light up the whole fucking world.”

You pause, your hand hovering over the tarot deck. “That’s actually really sweet, Sungie.”

“Sweet enough for you to give me head?”

Your hand smacks his arm before he can even finish the sentence. “You just fucking ruined it.”

“Ow!” he complains, though he’s laughing as he rubs the spot you hit. “What? I’m being honest! You said you appreciate honesty!”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Honesty and your horny ass aren’t the same thing.”

He pulls you closer, his chest warm against your back. “You love me anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that.” You lean into his touch despite the words, letting him press a kiss to your temple.

The movie continues to play in the background, a faint crescendo of orchestral music filling the room. Jisung’s hand finds its way to your waist, resting there idly as his other hand traces nonsensical patterns on the back of yours.

“So, for real,” he says after a beat of silence, “this card thing doesn’t freak you out?”

You shake your head. “Not really. It’s just a reminder to be careful. The universe has a way of sending signals, you know?”

He hums, though his tone is sceptical. “I still don’t get the whole crystal-tarot-astrology thing. But if it makes you feel grounded, I’m all in. My wallet, though, isn’t gonna love you buying out the crystal shop again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” you tease, tilting your head to catch his gaze. “You get a kick out of hearing me rant about this stuff.”

Jisung grins, that familiar, boyish charm lighting up his face. “Maybe I just like hearing your voice.”

“Maybe you just like kissing my ass.”

“Only when it’s bare.”

“Jisung!”

He dissolves into laughter, the kind that shakes the bed and makes Zak lift his head in confusion. You roll your eyes playfully as Jisung’s laughter starts to die down, though the grin on his face lingers. His arm drapes around your shoulders as he pulls you closer, still absently tracing patterns on your skin. 

“You know,” you say, tilting your head to look at him, “you look different lately.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk already forming. “Different? Like how? Handsomer? Sexier? More fuckable?”

You snort, shoving at his chest, which is frustratingly solid beneath your hand. “I’m serious, Sungie. You cut your hair, switched the silver out for blue, you’ve been hitting the gym more with Changbin, and your arms are like double the size they were before. And your chest...” You trail off, gesturing vaguely at his torso. “I mean, I think your chest is bigger than mine now. You’re making my boobs look tragic.”

Jisung’s jaw drops, feigning absolute horror. “Do not,” he sits up, one hand clutching his chest dramatically, “and I mean do not diss my favourite titties.”

You blink, confused. “Wait, your- oh my god, you mean mine?” You burst out laughing, and he grins like he’s won the lottery. “Jisung, you’re fucking impossible.”

“I’m dead serious,” he says, sitting cross-legged now and leaning toward you with mock solemnity. He pokes your chest lightly, his finger pressing against the fabric of your bralette. “These are works of art, jagiya. They’re perfection. Fuck the gym, Changbin can’t give me what these do.”

You giggle, batting his hand away, but he’s relentless. “No, no, let me finish! These are my favourite titties in the world. The Mona Lisa of boobs. Michelangelo himself couldn’t sculpt anything better.”

“You’re insane,” you manage through your laughter, trying to shove his face away as he leans closer.

“And you’re blessed,” he says, completely unfazed, his grin wide and shameless. “Seriously, I should write a fucking sonnet about them. Ode to the Greatest Pair of Tits That Ever Graced This Earth. Shakespeare would cry.”

“Jisung, shut up,” you giggle, doubling over as he pokes your chest again, his touch playful and light. “You’re so stupid.”

From the room next door, Minho’s voice booms through the thin walls. “JISUNG, SHUT UP ABOUT YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S FUCKING TITS!”

You’re gasping for air as Jisung groans and flops back dramatically, flinging an arm over his eyes. “Why does he always ruin my fun?” he whines before sitting up suddenly and grabbing your chest with both hands. He gives them a quick squeeze. “Honk.”

The noise that comes out of you is somewhere between a laugh and a snort, and it sends Jisung into another fit of giggles. “You’re such a child,” you say, slapping his hands away again, though there’s no real force behind it. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” he repeats, looking offended before lunging forward and burying his face between your boobs. “What’s wrong with me is that these exist, and I’m a simple man.”

“Jisung!” you shriek, laughing as he starts shaking his head dramatically, his hair tickling your skin. He lets out a loud, exaggerated “brrrrrr” sound, the vibrations making you dissolve into giggles.

“Stop motorboating me!” you gasp, trying to push his head away, but he’s stronger now, Changbin’s workouts clearly paying off, and he just stays there, muffling a defiant “Never!”

“You’re fucking ridiculous!” you cry, laughing so hard your stomach aches.

“Ridiculous or romantic?”

“Neither,” you say, still breathless. “You’re just an idiot.”

“An idiot who loves his jagiya’s tits. Let me suffocate here! I’ll die happy.”

The door creaks open, and Minho pokes his head into the room, eyebrows raised in mock judgment. “Jisung, stop being a fucking freak.”

Jisung doesn’t even lift his face from your chest. He’s still making that obnoxious “brrrr” noise, his head moving side to side. You’re half laughing, half mortified, trying to push him away, but his grip around your waist is unyielding.

“Minho, help me!” you plead, waving a hand toward the door.

Minho crosses his arms and leans casually against the doorframe. “Poor Zak shouldn’t have to see this shit.” He strides into the room, bending down to scoop up your dog. Zak wags his tail, happy for the attention, and Minho cradles him like a baby. “You deserve better, little man. You don’t need to witness whatever the fuck this is.”

“Minho, I’m serious!” you laugh as Jisung lets out another exaggerated “brrrrrr,” his blue hair tickling your skin.

“Jisung,” Minho says, deadpan. “Go sit in the fucking corner and think about what you’ve done.”

Jisung groans dramatically but finally rolls off the bed, landing on the floor with a soft thud. He drags himself to the corner like a petulant child, flopping down cross-legged. But instead of sitting quietly, he presses his hands to his cheeks, squeezing them together. He starts mimicking the same motion he was doing on you, complete with another obnoxious “brrrrrr” noise.

“I have an active imagination!” Jisung declares, grinning mischievously as he shakes his head between his hands. “I’m imagining my hands are your tits, jagiya! It’s like I never left!”

You bury your face in your hands, mortified, while Minho snorts so hard Zak wiggles in his arms. “You’re fucking hopeless,” Minho says, shooting Jisung a look of pure disbelief.

“Hopelessly in love with my girlfriend’s boobs!” Jisung shoots back, unbothered. “And proud of it!”

Minho shakes his head, turning to you. “Come on, Y/N. You don’t need this shit. Seek refuge with your favourite Alpha Phi member.”

Jisung gasps from his corner, clutching his hands to his chest as if he’s been physically wounded. “Traitor!” he cries, pointing an accusatory finger at Minho.

“Shut up,” Minho says firmly, pointing back. “You’re in time-out.”

Jisung starts making the “brrrrrr” noise again, but this time he muffles it with his hands, wiggling his eyebrows at you as if to say, Look how creative I am.

“You poor thing,” Minho says to you, ignoring Jisung completely. “What were you thinking dating him?”

“I declare temporary insanity,” you reply, laughing. “All his 90s dream girl talk got to me.”

“You’re still my 90s dream girl!” Jisung exclaims from his corner, his hands still pressed to his cheeks as he wiggles his head dramatically.

Minho rolls his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s watch something that’s not fucking Howl’s Moving Castle for the 900th time.”

“Sold,” you say immediately, sliding off the bed.

“Wait, what?” Jisung says, his voice rising an octave. “You’re just gonna leave me?”

Minho smirks, adjusting Zak in his arms. “Jisung, sit there for twenty minutes and repent or something.”

“You’re stealing my girlfriend and our fur child!” Jisung protests, scrambling to his feet.

“I’ll make it permanent if you don’t shut up and accept your time-out,” Minho threatens, raising an eyebrow.

Jisung throws his arms in the air, his frustration exaggerated. “I’m a titty fiend! I shouldn’t be punished for that!”

“Well, you fucking are,” Minho deadpans, stepping toward the door with Zak and gesturing for you to follow. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave the fiend to his pity party.”

“I have rights!” Jisung shouts after you as you step into the hallway, Minho chuckling under his breath. “You can’t just take my girlfriend and the dog! This is an act of war!”

Minho closes the door behind you, muffling Jisung’s continued protests. He glances at you with a smirk. “You really put up with that every day?”

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “He’s ridiculous, but he’s my ridiculous.”

“Temporary insanity,” Minho teases as he starts walking toward the stairs. “Let’s see if I can knock some sense into you with a decent movie.”

Behind the closed door, you can still faintly hear Jisung shouting, “I HAVE RIGHTS!” and you can’t help but laugh.

The living room of the Alpha Phi frat house is comfortably chaotic, the kind of space that reflects the personalities of everyone who lives there. A massive sectional dominates the room, piled with mismatched pillows and throw blankets that no one remembers buying. The faint scent of popcorn lingers from the kitchen, and the hum of an indie playlist plays softly in the background. It’s a rare moment of peace, all the chaos of frat life distilled into a lazy afternoon.

You’re sprawled on the couch with Felix, both of you hunched over his phone, scrolling through a crystal shop’s online catalogue. Felix’s brown mullet bobs as he shifts closer, pointing at a thumbnail of a smoky quartz tower. His glasses slide down his nose, and he pushes them up absentmindedly.

“This one,” Felix says, his tone decisive. “Smoky quartz for grounding. We need that shit in the kitchen after Chan melted the spatula last week.”

“I didn’t melt it,” Chan argues from across the room. He’s sitting on the floor, tossing Zak’s favourite squeaky toy toward Minho, who catches it and tosses it back like they’re playing some weird version of fetch themselves. Zak bounces between them, his brindle fur gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the windows, his tail wagging like it might fly off.

“You fucking did,” Minho says with a snort. “You left it on the stove, genius.”

Zak drops the toy at Chan’s feet, barking once, his tongue lolling happily. Chan throws it again. “It was an accident!”

You and Felix exchange a glance, both rolling your eyes in unison before turning back to the phone. “We definitely need smoky quartz,” you agree. “Also, look at this selenite wand. Cleansing energy for the entryway.”

Felix nods enthusiastically. “Yes! It’ll clear out all the shitty energy people bring in. Like when Jisung tracks mud inside after practice.”

“I don’t track mud-” Jisung starts, but you cut him off with a look. He’s draped over the armrest of the couch, his hair messy and damp from a shower, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that make him look impossibly soft. "So have you found any good ones?”

“Plenty,” you reply, tilting the phone to show him. “We’re purifying your mud tracks as we speak.”

“I don’t track mud!” he protests again, sitting up and glaring at you. His tone is more indignant than angry, and it makes Felix snicker.

Minho quirks an eyebrow. “Jisung, you actually believe in this crystal shit?”

Jisung shrugs, unbothered, and stretches his arms over his head. “I think Y/N can believe in what she wants if it helps her. I support her.”

Minho’s eyebrow goes higher. “Support her how?”

“Like I support you and Bloody Mary,” Jisung says, smirking.

The toy slips from Minho’s hand, and he shudders so hard Zak stops mid-bounce to tilt his head at him. “Fuck no. Don’t even say that bitch’s name. No bathrooms in the dark for me. Ever.”

Jisung grins, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “That’s why at clubs, I always go to the bathroom with you.”

“Too fucking right,” Minho says, tossing the toy again for Zak. “True bros keep their bros safe from Bloody Mary.”

“I got you, man.” Jisung lifts a fist, and Minho meets it with a loud smack.

Chan, who’s been watching this exchange with growing amusement, shakes his head. “Wait, you actually believe in the Bloody Mary thing?”

“Fuck yes, I do,” Minho says, straightening up. His voice takes on a conspiratorial edge, and you know you’re about to get a classic Minho tangent.

“Listen,” Minho starts, leaning forward like he’s about to deliver the gospel. “Bloody Mary isn’t just some random ghost bullshit. She’s Mary Tudor, as in Mary the First, as in fucking Bloody Mary, queen of England. The bitch burned, like, 300 people at the stake. Protestants, mostly. She was Catholic, right? And her dad, Henry VIII, was all about breaking away from the Catholic Church because he wanted to marry Anne Boleyn, fucking messy family drama, by the way, so Mary basically spends her whole reign trying to reverse all of his Protestant reforms.”

Hyunjin snorts. “Nerd.”

“Shut up,” Minho snaps without heat, continuing his tirade. “So anyway, people start calling her Bloody Mary because of all the executions. And then somehow she gets turned into this creepy bathroom ghost? I don’t know who came up with that shit, but it’s disrespectful as hell.”

Jisung, sprawled like a cat on the couch, grins. “So you believe the ghost part?”

Minho’s expression turns grim. “I don’t fuck with mirrors. Or bathrooms in the dark. No fucking way. You say her name three times, you’re asking for it.”

Chan chuckles, tossing Zak’s toy again. “That’s a stretch, dude.”

“It’s not!” Minho insists, his voice rising. “Mirrors are a gateway. Everyone fucking knows that. And if you say her name, it’s like inviting her in. Like... like a mirror demon or some shit. It’s common fucking sense.”

Zak barks once, as if agreeing, and Felix bursts into laughter. “Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” Minho replies, crossing his arms. “Call me crazy, but I’m not risking my life over a bathroom dare.”

“Bloody Mary’s not gonna come for you,” Chan says, shaking his head with a grin.

“You don’t know that,” Minho fires back. “What if she’s pissed off that I insulted her? You don’t fucking tempt fate.”

Hyunjin, sprawled across the armchair like it’s a throne, finally chimes in with a shudder. “I don’t fuck with those Virgin Ghosts.”

Everyone pauses, turning toward him, and he sits up straighter, waving his hands for emphasis. “You know the ones, white dresses, long dark hair, looking like they crawled straight out of The Ring. Fuck that.”

Chan laughs, but it’s a little nervous. “Mine’s the eyeless woman. You know, the one people see in their sleep paralysis? Fuck that bitch. Or toilet ghosts.”

Minho points at him. “Fuck toilet ghosts. They’re the worst.”

Hyunjin snorts. “Why are toilets such a common fucking haunting spot?”

“Because they’re vulnerable as fuck!” Minho exclaims, sitting up, his voice full of righteous indignation. “You’re literally pants-down, defenceless. A ghost shows up, what the fuck are you gonna do? Waddle away?”

Everyone bursts into laughter, Felix smacking his knee as he doubles over. “Waddle away,” he repeats through his laughter, and you can’t help giggling, too, shaking your head.

Felix sits up, wiping at his eyes. “Y/N and I don’t worry about that shit. You know why? Immaculate vibes, sage, and crystals.”

“Exactly,” you say, holding up a fist toward Felix. He meets it with his own, both of you nodding like you’ve just solved world peace.

Minho scoffs. “I’d like to see sage hold off Bloody Mary.”

Felix raises an eyebrow, his expression calm and confident. “It would.”

“Bullshit,” Minho mutters, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed. Zak, as if sensing the tension, trots over and drops his squeaky toy in Minho’s lap. Minho sighs, picking it up absentmindedly. “Fucking sage isn’t doing shit against a pissed-off ghost.”

Felix grins, his faith unshakable. “Your negativity is why you’re a target.”

Minho throws the toy for Zak, muttering under his breath, “Fucking target.”

Just then, the door to the living room creaks open, and one of the new freshman pledges steps in hesitantly, holding a stack of papers. He’s wide-eyed, clearly intimidated, and freezes when he sees the group sprawled around like the house royalty they are.

“Uh, hi,” he starts, his voice shaky. “I was told to bring-”

“Pleb three!” Minho declares loudly, cutting him off and pointing. “Get in here.”

The poor kid shuffles in, clearly trying not to trip over his own feet. You glance at Minho, frowning slightly. “Minho, don’t call him that. You’re so mean.”

Minho shrugs, unapologetic. “What? We have six new pledges. Pleb one through six. He’s three.”

The pledge looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up, and you sigh, shooting him a reassuring smile. “Don’t mind him. He’s just... like that.”

Minho ignores you completely, turning back to the pledge. “Pleb, go make cocktails for all of us. And remember, no fucking cheap-ass shit. I want something classy.”

The pledge nods quickly, backing toward the door, but Minho holds up a hand, stopping him mid-step. “Oh, and one more thing,” he adds, his tone sharp. “You can’t look at members’ girlfriends either.” He flicks a dismissive hand. “Eyes off. Got it?”

The pledge stares at him for a second before covering his eyes with one hand, holding the papers with the other. “Got it,” he says weakly, stumbling out of the room.

Jisung, who’s been quietly observing from his spot on the couch, lets out a loud snicker. “Minho, you’re fucking insane.”

“What?” Minho says, feigning innocence. “I’m protecting your jagiya, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you mutter, shaking your head. “You’re scaring him half to death.”

“Good,” Minho says, leaning back with a smirk. “Keeps them on their toes.”

Chan shakes his head, throwing Zak’s toy again. “One of these days, Minho, you’re gonna scare a pledge so bad they’ll quit.”

“Good,” Minho repeats. “If they can’t handle me, they can’t handle this house.” He gestures dramatically at the room as if it’s a fortress rather than a mildly chaotic frat space.

Jisung leans over, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re too nice to hang out with him, jagiya.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Maybe I just balance him out.”

Felix hums thoughtfully. “Y/N does have impeccable vibes. Minho, you could probably use some of her sage.”

“Fuck off, Felix,”

The sound of the dryer hums faintly in the background as you sit cross-legged on Jisung’s bed, folding the week’s laundry into neat piles. Your white blouse is tied casually above your navel, and the light acid-wash mom jeans you’re wearing feel comfortably snug. A citrine necklace rests against your collarbone, glinting softly in the afternoon light as you work, occasionally brushing back stray strands of hair that escape your seashell claw clip. Jisung sits at the foot of the bed, surrounded by a sea of mismatched socks, diligently trying to pair them up.

“This one?” he asks, holding up a lonely grey sock, squinting at it as if it might magically reveal its partner.

You glance at it and shake your head. “Nope, that’s from the gym set. The other one is probably hiding under your desk.”

“Fucking socks,” he mutters, tossing it into a growing pile of misfits. “It’s like they have a secret society or something. They plan their disappearances.”

You laugh softly, smoothing out one of his hoodies before folding it neatly. “Secret sock society?”

“Don’t act like it’s not real, jagiya,” he says, waving a pair of black socks in the air triumphantly. “These two almost escaped, but I got ‘em.”

“Hero of the day,” you tease, shooting him a smile as you stack another pile of folded clothes.

The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, his occasional grumbles about sock conspiracies mixing with the soft rustle of clothes being folded. It’s peaceful, the kind of mundane intimacy that feels almost sacred.

But then your brow furrows, your hands pausing as you sift through your stack of folded laundry. Something is missing. Two somethings, to be exact.

“Ji,” you say, voice suspicious.

“Yeah, jagiya?” He doesn’t look up, too focused on wrestling with a stubborn sock.

“My thongs are missing.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, and he blinks at you, confused. “Wait, what?”

You hold up your fingers for emphasis. “Two. My red lace and my black lace. Gone.”

Jisung lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you’ve just told him the worst news of his life. “Not the red lace! Lord, say it isn’t so!”

“And the black lace,” you add grimly.

“No!” he cries, dropping the socks in his hands and crawling closer to you on the bed. “This is a tragedy.”

“I’m not joking, Ji,” you say, though you can’t help the small laugh that escapes as you watch his theatrics. “I swear if I find one of your idiot frat brothers wearing them on their head again-”

“Minho did that one time.”

“One time too many.”

“Fair,” he concedes, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “But might I remind you that my idiot frat brothers are also your friends?”

“Only during the hours they don’t have my panties on their heads,” you shoot back, smirking.

Jisung sits up, grinning as he reaches out to grab your hand. “Don’t worry, jagiya. If I see one of those assholes wearing your thongs, I’ll wrestle it off their head myself.”

You shake your head, biting back a laugh. “How noble of you.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of principle,” he replies, kissing your cheek quickly before going back to his pile of socks. “But seriously, we should check the laundry room. Maybe they’re still in the dryer or something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” you agree, though you’re still suspicious. You eye Jisung as he focuses on his socks again, wondering if he’s hiding something.

“Stop staring at me like I did it,” he says without looking up.

“I’m not staring!” you protest, laughing.

“You so fucking are,” he says, grinning as he finally looks up. “If I had your thongs, jagiya, trust me. You’d know. Wait a fucking second.” He slaps the wall that separates his room from Minho’s. The thud reverberates loudly, and you flinch slightly at the sound.

“Minho!” Jisung shouts, smacking the wall again for good measure.

“What?!” Minho’s muffled voice comes from the other side, annoyed and sharp.

“Have you got Y/N’s panties on your head again?!” Jisung yells back, his tone accusatory but dripping with humour.

There’s a beat of silence before Minho replies, incredulous, “I wear your girlfriend’s panties on my head one time when I’m drunk, and suddenly I’m always the fucking suspect?! Might I remind you that you double dared me to do that!”

You can’t hold back your laugh, shaking your head as you fold another one of Jisung’s hoodies. “Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, biting your lip to keep from laughing louder.

“That is true,” Jisung concedes, nodding solemnly. “I did double dare you.”

“And I am no bitch when it comes to a double dare!” Minho fires back, his tone haughty and self-righteous.

“Also true,” Jisung agrees, shrugging.

But Minho isn’t done. “Might I also remind you that you were the one who grabbed her black and green bra, held it up to your fucking eyes, and told everyone you were a fly?”

Jisung pauses, his lips twitching. “I did do that.”

“Damn right, you did,” Minho snaps. “So don’t start throwing accusations at me, you little shit.”

“Okay, okay,” Jisung says, holding up his hands as if Minho could see him through the wall. “Do you have her thongs, though?”

“No!” Minho shouts, clearly exasperated. “Why the fuck would I want her thongs? Jesus Christ, Jisung!”

“Just checking!” Jisung calls back before flopping back down on the bed beside you, grinning.

You give him a flat look, raising an eyebrow. “Are you done harassing Minho?”

“Not yet.” Jisung suddenly gasps, sitting up straight again. “Wait! The card you pulled! Theft! Deception! Someone being sneaky!”

“See? It’s real!”

Jisung blinks, nodding slowly as if connecting all the dots. “Holy shit. You might convert me to a tarot believer yet, jagiya.”

“Finally!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in victory. “No more calling it woo-woo shit!”

“When have I ever called it woo-woo shit?”

You arch an eyebrow at him, folding your arms across your chest. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

His mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. “Okay,” he admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I may have said it... once or twice.”

“Try ten times,” 

Jisung winces. “Alright, fine. But look, I’m seeing the light now, jagiya. The cards knew. They knew! Your missing panties are proof.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling at his sudden enthusiasm. “Better late than never, I guess.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek. “So what does the card say we do about the thief? Do we stage a fucking heist to get them back? Interrogate Minho with a spotlight?”

You laugh, pushing his face away lightly. “It’s a warning card, Ji. It doesn’t give step-by-step instructions.”

“Well, it should,” he mutters, leaning back. “Fucking useless card.”

You shake your head, but you’re grinning as you go back to folding the laundry. “Maybe if you fully believed in the cards, you’d get more out of them.”

“Oh, I’m a believer now,” Jisung says, nodding sagely. “The cards have spoken, and I will honour their wisdom.”

You snort, glancing at him fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” 

The living room is buzzing with curiosity and chaos as the main crew gathers. Jisung sits in the oversized armchair, you perched comfortably on his lap. His hand is lazily stroking your head like you’re a cat, and he’s some villainous mastermind plotting world domination. Zak darts around the room, wagging his tail like he’s chasing invisible ghosts, occasionally bumping into people as they stand in a loose semicircle around you.

Jisung clears his throat dramatically, his free hand gesturing with flair. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his tone theatrical, “a grave crime has been committed under our roof.”

Everyone straightens up slightly, looking at each other in confusion.

Jisung points at the group, his eyes narrowing. “Someone has stolen Y/N’s lacy thongs.”

Felix’s gasp is immediate and horrified. “No!”

“Yes,” Jisung says, his expression dark and sombre. “I am heartbroken, devastated even. My jagiya’s precious thongs have been taken, and this mystery must be solved.”

Felix clutches his chest like he’s about to faint. “This is a tragedy.”

Chan sits back on the couch, crossing his arms and eyeing the room warily. “Alright, who’s the thief?”

The room goes silent for a moment before, almost instinctively, all eyes land on Minho. He sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “I fucking knew I should never have accepted that stupid dare to wear her panties on my head. Now you all think I’m some panty-stealing deviant.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his voice sharp with sarcasm. “Are you?”

“Of course fucking not!” Minho snaps, glaring at him.

“Well,” Chan interjects, trying to steer the conversation, “when was the last time you saw them?”

You sit up slightly, your brow furrowing in thought. “When I put them in the laundry basket. They were definitely there.”

Everyone once again turns to Minho, who throws his hands up in frustration. “Oh, come on! It wasn’t me!”

Changbin, who’s leaning casually against the arm of the couch, tilts his head thoughtfully. “Can we just take a moment to process the fact that someone stole Y/N’s used panties?”

You shudder at the thought, hugging yourself as a wave of discomfort rolls through you. Jisung immediately rubs your back, his touch soothing. “It’s okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out.”

But then, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, Jisung sits up straight, his eyes wide with horror. “Oh my fucking god,” he exclaims, his voice loud and panicked. “Someone is sniffing my girlfriend’s used panties!”

Changbin snorts so hard he has to hide his laugh behind his hand, his shoulders shaking. Chan bites his lip, failing miserably to suppress a giggle, while Felix pulls his hoodie strings so tight his face disappears as he dissolves into laughter. Seungmin and Hyunjin exchange looks before breaking into outright snickers.

Jisung is relentless. “They’re smelling my girlfriend’s vagina smell! What kind of sick-”

“Ji!” you interrupt, mortified, pressing your hand firmly against his mouth. Your cheeks are burning as you hide your face in his shoulder, your voice muffled as you whine, “Oh my god, stop!”

The guys lose it. Changbin’s laughter is loud and unapologetic now, his hand slapping against the couch. Felix has nearly folded himself in half, muffled giggles escaping from the depths of his hoodie. Chan shakes his head, laughing so hard his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Jeongin, the youngest but clearly as chaotic as the rest, raises a hand like he’s in class. “What if they’re licking the panties, too?”

Jisung pulls your hand away, ready to reply. “Only I lick-”

You cut him off with a quick, desperate press of your hand back against his mouth. “Jisung, stop!” you cry, burying your face deeper into his shoulder as the group erupts into another wave of uncontrollable laughter.

Hyunjin, wiping tears from his eyes, finally manages to speak. “You know,” he says, catching his breath, “someone probably sold them. You can make bank off used panties.”

You let out a loud whine, muffled into Jisung’s hoodie, while he strokes your back soothingly. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he says, his tone serious but with a mischievous glint in his eye. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. And if someone is making money off your panties, we’re demanding fucking royalties.”

The week passes without incident. Until it doesn’t. You’re folding laundry on Jisung’s bed, sitting cross-legged in your usual spot while he lounges nearby in nothing but his boxers, scrolling on his phone. Your blue cotton lounge pants and bralette feel soft and familiar, your makeup-free face showing off the faint freckles dusted across your cheeks. The peaceful rhythm of folding clothes is abruptly shattered when you let out a horrified gasp.

Jisung looks up immediately, concern flashing across his face. “What? What happened?”

“My lacy boyshorts! My favourite pair of underwear! Gone!”

Jisung freezes, his phone slipping from his hands. Then he leaps to his feet with a theatrical flourish. “No. No!” he shouts. “House meeting! Everyone, to my room immediately!”

The sound of heavy footsteps fills the hallway as the guys shuffle in, groaning and confused. Chan’s hair is slightly damp, probably from a quick shower, while Minho and Hyunjin look like they were in the middle of a heated FIFA match. Felix clutches a snack, shoving chips into his mouth as he walks, and Jeongin and Seungmin appear with their usual air of “why are we even fucking here?”

Jisung stands dramatically in the middle of the room, pointing at the group as they gather. “Once again,” he declares, his voice booming, “the panty thief strikes!”

Felix, who’s perched on the edge of the bed, widens his eyes. “Dude, someone is seriously stealing your panties.” 

“They stole my favourite pair, Lix!” you say, your voice a mix of despair and disbelief.

Felix gasps, his chips forgotten as he pats your head gently, then pulls you into a comforting cuddle. You lean into him, grateful for his warmth, as he says solemnly, “Don’t worry. We’ll hold a funeral service. They deserve a proper send-off.”

You laugh softly despite the situation, shaking your head against his shoulder.

Minho, leaning casually against the desk, crosses his arms and tilts his head. “You know,” he says, his tone disturbingly calm, “if they haven’t sold them, they’re probably jerking their dick with your panties.”

Jisung stiffens, spinning around to glare at him. “That is a sin! Dishonor on my good name!”

Chan raises an eyebrow, barely able to contain a grin. “Dishonor on you?”

“Yes, on me!” Jisung exclaims, pointing at himself indignantly. “Someone is probably wanking with my girlfriend’s used panties. They dishonour her, so they dishonour me! When I find this hooligan, I’m going to stick them in the washing machine and put it on a hot wash!”

The room erupts into laughter at Jisung’s outburst. Changbin doubles over, clutching his stomach, while Felix hides his face in his hands, shaking with silent giggles. You’re biting your lip, trying not to laugh, but Jisung’s dramatics make it nearly impossible.

Jeongin, ever the voice of practicality, raises his hand. “Okay, but, like, just buy new panties?”

Jisung whirls on him, his eyes wide with disbelief. “That is not the point! This isn’t about new panties! It’s about justice! Someone has stolen her used panties! A crime! A threat to my manhood! I must duel this thief to the death! With a stick! Like they did on the horses back in the day.”

Seungmin, leaning against the wall, rolls his eyes. “That’s jousting, you idiot. And it wasn’t a death match.”

“It might as well have been!” Jisung shoots back, throwing his hands in the air. “The point is, I have to defend my jagiya’s honour!”

Hyunjin lazily flips his hair out of his eyes. “Can we all just take a moment to remember that Minho is the only person in this room, besides Jisung, to have ever touched her panties?”

The room falls silent as everyone turns to Minho again. He groans loudly, swatting at Hyunjin. “It is not me, you unfairly beautiful bastard!”

Hyunjin smirks, dodging the swat with ease. “Defensiveness sounds like guilt to me.”

“Fuck off,” Minho grumbles, shaking his head. “I don’t even want your damn panties. I just wanted to win a dare. This is all Jisung’s fault anyway for making me do it.”

Jisung glares at Minho but says nothing, instead wrapping his arms around you. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he murmurs softly, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “We’re going to solve this if it’s the last thing I do. No one gets away with disrespecting you like this.”

The guys groan, already bracing themselves for whatever chaos Jisung’s plan might bring. But as ridiculous as the situation is, there’s an unspoken agreement among them: this mystery will be solved.

The Times Square shopping centre in Seoul is buzzing with life, a vibrant mix of chatter, footsteps, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the spacious halls. You’re walking hand in hand with Jisung, his grip firm and warm. 

Your black turtleneck is tucked neatly into your black shorts, sheer tights peeking out from underneath, and the thigh-high boots you’re wearing click softly against the polished floor. The golden chain belt around your waist glimmers faintly under the overhead lights. Jisung, next to you, looks effortlessly striking in black cargos and boots, his blue and black compression top hugging his broad chest and muscular arms in a way that makes him stand out in the crowd. His messy blue hair adds a carefree charm to his sharp appearance.

The two of you turn into the Victoria’s Secret store, the soft pink glow of its signage welcoming you inside. The scent of vanilla and floral perfumes greets you, mingling with the faint rustle of fabric as customers browse the racks.

“Spend as much as you want, jagiya,” Jisung says immediately, his voice warm and encouraging. “Replace your stolen panties, get some new ones, retail therapy. My treat.” He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Because, you know, I get to see you in them.”

You giggle, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet you love me,” he replies smoothly, reaching out to pluck a lacy black bralette from a nearby rack. He holds it up, inspecting it with an exaggeratedly critical eye before tossing it into the basket on his arm. “This one’s sexy as fuck. It’s a must.”

The store is lined with rows of lingerie in every imaginable style and colour. You wander slowly, taking in the intricate lace details and delicate embroidery. Jisung stays close, clearly invested in the selection process. He pauses by a display of pastel-coloured sets, picking up a soft lavender bra with matching panties. “This would look amazing on you,” he says, adding it to the growing collection in the basket.

“Most guys would be standing outside right now, you know,” you tease, watching as he browses like he owns the place.

“And miss this?” He gestures around the store dramatically, then points to you. “Miss being in heaven, getting to pick out my girlfriend’s lingerie? Fuck that.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he continues to browse, clearly enjoying himself. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smirks, picking up a red lace set and holding it up for you to see. “Ridiculously lucky. You should try this one on. Actually-” He tosses it into the basket before you can respond. “No need. I already know it’ll look amazing.”

You snort, glancing at the basket on his arm, which is quickly filling up. “Are you trying to buy out the whole store?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “You deserve the best. Should we grab boba after this? You’ve got that I need sugar look.”

“Yeah, boba sounds good,” you say, smiling. “My treat, though, because you’re about to break your bank in here.”

“Fair trade,” he says, nodding as he picks up a lacy blue set, admiring the delicate straps before tossing it into the basket with a grin. “But let’s make it a large. I’ll need it after carrying this financial burden.”

You laugh, leaning into his side as the two of you make your way toward another section of the store. He pauses by a rack of silk robes, running his fingers over the fabric. “What about this?” he asks, holding up a short, champagne-colored robe.

“For lounging around the house?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Or for seducing your boyfriend,” he replies smoothly, his tone teasing. “Dual purpose.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile on your face as he adds it to the basket. “You’re seriously too much.”

“Too much? Or just enough?” He leans down, his face close to yours, his grin playful.

You shake your head, pushing him lightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you love me,” he says again, his confidence unwavering as he grabs another set off a nearby rack. The basket on his arm is practically overflowing now, but he doesn’t seem to care.

When you finally make it to the register, the cashier raises an eyebrow at the sheer volume of items. Jisung doesn’t bat an eye, pulling out his card like a man on a mission. 

As the cashier rings up the items, you glance at the total and let out a soft whistle. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely,” Jisung says, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Retail therapy works wonders, and seeing you happy? Worth every won.”

You smile, leaning into him as the cashier finishes bagging the items. As the two of you leave the store, Jisung carrying the bags like they’re trophies, he turns to you with a grin. “Boba now?”

“Boba now,” you agree, laughing as he leads you toward the food court.

Jisung swings the bags lightly, his grin ever-present. “Best shopping trip ever.”

Laundry day comes again, and you and Jisung are back in his room, sorting through freshly cleaned clothes. The atmosphere is relaxed as you fold shirts into neat piles and Jisung matches up socks. You’re wearing white lounge pants and a black bralette, your hair messily tied up in a bun with strands framing your face. Your socks are mismatched and fluffy, a detail Jisung keeps teasing you about.

“Do you do this on purpose?” he asks, holding up your feet for inspection. “Like, is it a vibe or-”

“It’s laundry day, Ji,” you reply with a smirk. “All my matching ones are in the basket. Besides, they’re comfy.”

Before he can retort, your hands pause mid-fold. You sift through the pile of freshly laundered clothes, brow furrowing. “Wait a second...”

Jisung notices immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“My new panties... they’re gone.” Then realization dawns, and your eyes widen. “No. No, no, no. My bra is gone too! They’ve evolved! They’re taking my bras!”

Jisung stares at you in horror, his mouth falling open. “The titty support?” he exclaims. “How fucking dare they!”

You laugh despite your frustration, but Jisung’s dramatics continue. He gestures wildly to the room as if addressing the universe. “Do they not understand the sanctity of a bra? The pain of unsupported boobs? Your poor back, jagiya.”

You snort. “My back is fine”

“No, it’s not!” he interrupts, suddenly moving behind you and cupping your boobs with both hands. “Your back is crying out for help. Don’t worry. I’ll hold them up with my own two hands. Problem solved.”

“Jisung!” you squeal, laughing as you try to wriggle out of his grip, but he just adjusts his hold, resting his chin on your shoulder with a smug grin.

“Perfect,” he says as if he’s genuinely proud of himself. “See? No bra needed. I’ll do this all day.”

You roll your eyes, still laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously devoted,” he corrects, giving your boobs a playful bounce for emphasis. But before he can call for a house meeting, there’s a knock at the door, and then it swings open as the rest of the guys shuffle in uninvited.

Seungmin is the first to speak, his voice dripping with exasperation. “Again?”

Jisung spins around, still holding your boobs protectively. “This creep has evolved,” he announces, his tone dark. “He’s stealing matching sets now! Bra and panties!”

Felix’s eyes immediately lock on Jisung’s hands. “Uh, why are you holding her boobs?”

Jisung doesn’t miss a beat. “Because the perv is stealing her bras, Felix! I’m protecting her spine.”

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Seems legit,” he mutters, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting a laugh.

Changbin crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Minho, didn’t you once say you like blue underwear?”

Minho freezes mid-step, his expression scandalized. “Oh, come on! This has been going on for three weeks. If I were the panty thief, which, let me remind you, I am not, it would’ve been one and done! Why the fuck does this guy need so many pairs?”

Seungmin tilts his head thoughtfully, but his face twists in mild disgust as he continues. “Well, if we’re going with the theory that he’s keeping them, then it probably means they’re all, uh, crusted with old jizz.”

The room erupts.

“What the fuck, Seungmin?!” Jisung shouts, gagging dramatically as he finally lets go of your boobs to clutch his stomach.

Felix covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes wide in horror. “Ew! Ew, ew, ew!”

Hyunjin clutches his chest like he’s about to faint. “Why the fuck would you say that out loud?”

Even Changbin, who rarely shies away from crude humour, looks appalled. “Dude, what the fuck?!”

Chan, who had been leaning silently against the desk, grimaces. “I’m gonna need brain bleach after this conversation.”

You stand there, stunned and horrified, before you let out a loud groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my god, can we not?”

Jisung, ever your champion, regains his composure first. He places a hand on your shoulder, his expression serious. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he says solemnly. “We’ll catch this fucker. And when we do, I’m putting his ass through the washing machine on the spin cycle.”

Hyunjin clears his throat, still looking mildly traumatized. “Seungmin, you’re banned from speculating about the thief’s habits. Forever.”

“Seconded,” Minho says quickly, shoving Seungmin lightly as if to physically push the thought away. “And for the last time, it’s not me. I’m offended you guys keep looking at me like I’m the panty goblin.”

“You are still the only one in this room, besides Jisung, to have touched her underwear,” Hyunjin points out, smirking as Minho groans.

“It’s not fucking me, you unfairly beautiful bastard!” Minho snaps, swatting at Hyunjin, who easily dodges with a laugh. "Stop pointing fingers at me just because I dared to be a team player once!”

“Sounds like something a panty thief would say.”

As the room devolves into bickering, Jisung sighs, shaking his head. “This is getting us nowhere,” he mutters. Then, louder, he adds, “But mark my fucking words. We’re catching this asshole. And when we do, they’re done.”

The week has been a tense one, with every passing day filled with speculation, jokes, and frustration. But tonight, Jisung is determined to end it. He sets his trap with meticulous care, placing mousetraps inside the laundry basket in the laundry room. The basket is filled with unwashed clothes, including a decoy pair of your panties, a plain, older pair he sacrificially snuck into the mix. It’s all bait, and the trap is set.

You’re lounging on the couch in the living room with the rest of the Alpha Phi crew, dressed in sage green lounge pants and a matching bralette. Your hair is messily tied up in a bun, and your mismatched fluffy socks peek out as you curl your legs beneath you. The group is scattered across the room, chatting idly, the usual chaos subdued by the lazy hum of the evening.

Jisung sits beside you, bouncing his leg nervously, his attention divided between your conversation and his ears straining for any sound from the laundry room. The tension is palpable.

Then it happens, a sharp snap echoes through the house, followed by a loud, panicked yelp.

Jisung jumps to his feet, his eyes wide with excitement. “The panty thief!” he shouts, already darting toward the hallway. The rest of you scramble after him, the energy in the room going from zero to chaotic in seconds.

The group floods into the laundry room, and there, standing frozen with a mousetrap clamped firmly onto his hand, is Pledge Five. His face is a mixture of pain, panic, and guilt, his free hand flailing helplessly as he tries to pry the trap loose.

“Pleb Five!” Minho exclaims, his voice dripping with disdain. He crosses his arms, glaring at the red-faced freshman. “No. You’re not Pleb Five anymore. From now on, you’re Pleb Perv.”

Jisung steps forward, his expression livid as he points an accusatory finger at the pledge. “You! What did you do to my girlfriend’s panties?!”

“Please don’t answer that,” you mutter, your voice weary as you press a hand to your forehead.

The pledge stammers, his mouth opening and closing uselessly, but Minho’s not about to let him off the hook. “Look at his fucking face!” Minho says, pointing for emphasis. “He jerked it with her underwear. I fucking knew it.”

The pledge’s face flushes a deep, incriminating red, and the room collectively groans.

“I’ve been fighting accusations for weeks, you dirty little bastard!” Minho yells, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Weeks! And it was you the whole fucking time!”

Jisung’s fury flares even brighter. “Get in the washing machine!” he demands, pointing to the industrial-sized appliance in the corner.

The pledge blinks, his panic momentarily replaced by confusion. “What?”

Chan steps forward, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “Jisung, we can’t put him in the washing machine.”

“Why not?” Jisung snaps. “He put his dirty, nasty, little dick on my girlfriend’s fucking panties! He deserves it!”

Hyunjin, who’s been watching the scene unfold with wide-eyed amusement, chimes in. “Let’s just get this straight.” He looks at the pledge, tilting his head. “Did you jerk it with Y/N’s panties?”

The pledge hesitates, his gaze darting around the room before he finally nods, his head dropping in shame.

“Fucking hell,” Felix mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is so fucked.”

Minho throws his hands up again, clearly exasperated. “I told you all it wasn’t me, but nooooo, everyone blamed Minho! And it was this little shit the whole time!”

Felix steps forward, his expression serious now. “Where is her underwear?”

The pledge gulps audibly, avoiding eye contact as he mumbles, “Under my mattress.”

Another collective groan ripples through the group, louder this time. Hyunjin gags dramatically, covering his mouth with his hand.

“That’s fucking disgusting,” Changbin says, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Burn the whole house down,” Seungmin mutters, shaking his head.

Chan steps forward, his authoritative presence silencing the chaos momentarily. “Alright, listen. Get the fuck out. Pack your shit. We’ll ship it to your new address. You’re done here.”

The pledge’s mouth opens like he’s about to argue, but one look from Chan shuts him up. He nods weakly, wincing as he tries to remove the mousetrap from his hand.

Minho claps his hands together, his tone suddenly chipper. “Great! I’ll grab supplies for recovery and disposal.” Without another word, he disappears down the hallway, leaving everyone else staring at the humiliated pledge.

Jisung takes a deep breath, his hand sliding into yours as he looks at you with a mix of anger and protectiveness. “Don’t worry, jagiya,” he says softly. “This shit’s over. No one disrespects you like that and gets away with it.”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Let’s just hope Minho doesn’t come back with a flamethrower.”

Hyunjin laughs softly, shaking his head. “Would anyone even blame him if he did?”

The group trudges upstairs, a tense, horrified energy hanging over everyone as they make their way to the pledge’s room. Minho leads the charge, armed with a trash bag, rubber gloves, and a pair of tongs that look like they were stolen from the kitchen. You stay close to Jisung, who’s muttering under his breath about unwashed pledges and crimes against humanity.

Chan is the first to reach the bed, and he grabs the edge of the mattress with a sigh. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

As he lifts the mattress, everyone leans in—and collective groans of disgust ripple through the group. Beneath the mattress is a stash of your missing panties and bras, folded haphazardly but undeniably there. 

Jisung recoils instantly, gagging. “Oh my fucking god. Ew! There’s- That’s- That’s on my girlfriend’s panties!”

“Jizz,” Minho declares flatly, leaning in with his tongs like a forensic investigator at a crime scene. “It’s old, crusty jizz. This is a biohazard.”

The whole room groans again, and Jisung looks like he’s going to throw up. Minho, completely unfazed, crouches down and starts picking up the offending items one by one with the tongs. “Alright,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact, “trash bag open. Gloves on. Let’s get this shit cleaned up.”

Jisung points accusingly at him, his disgust temporarily overridden by a smirk. “I dare you to put these ones on your head.”

Minho snorts, holding up a particularly stiff-looking pair of panties with the tongs. “And get pink eye from old jizz? Fuck no.”

Felix, who’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, grins. “But you put Y/N’s clean panties on your head, though.”

Minho shrugs, unfazed. “Get me drunk enough, and I’d wear fucking panties. Hell, I’d rock them.”

“Good to know,” Seungmin mutters, looking like he’s trying not to vomit.

Minho waves the stiff panties around like a flag. “Look at this shit! They’re fucking stiff. This isn’t fabric anymore, it’s a weapon.”

You’re the first to crack, a loud laugh bursting out of you as you lean against Jisung for support. “Oh my god, Minho, stop!”

“I’m serious!” Minho says, grinning as he waves the panties again. “Feel this. It’s like cardboard. How many times did this dude nut in your panties?!”

The room descends into chaos. Felix doubles over, laughter muffled against his hoodie sleeve. Hyunjin is next, his laughter loud and unrestrained as he clutches the doorframe for support. Changbin starts laughing so hard he has to sit on the floor, while Seungmin and Jeongin exchange horrified glances before breaking into fits of giggles.

Jisung, however, remains rooted to the spot, his expression one of pure horror. “This isn’t funny,” he says, but his voice wavers as if he’s fighting the urge to laugh. Beside him, Chan pinches the bridge of his nose, his face twitching as he tries to keep a straight face.

Minho, meanwhile, is fully committed to his role as narrator. He picks up another pair of panties, holding it delicately with the tongs as he examines it. “Here we have Exhibit B,” he says in a faux-serious tone. “Notice the uneven crust patterns. This suggests a man who lacks precision, perhaps caught up in the throes of self fulfillment”

“Minho, stop!” you cry, tears streaming down your face as you laugh uncontrollably.

“Can’t stop,” Minho replies, deadpan. “Won’t stop. The people deserve to know the truth.”

He moves on to the matching blue bra, lifting it carefully. His face twists in exaggerated disgust. “And here we have the pièce de résistance,” he says, gesturing to the inside of the cups. “The bra. Notice the texture.”

“Don’t,” Jisung warns, his voice low and dangerous.

Minho doesn’t listen. “It looks like spoiled breast milk in the cups,” he says, shaking the bra for emphasis. “That’s how much he spaffed in this thing. His jizz looks like spoiled fucking breast milk.”

The room explodes again. Felix collapses onto the floor, wheezing as Hyunjin clings to him for support. Seungmin and Jeongin are doubled over, tears streaming down their faces, while Changbin has to lie back against the wall to catch his breath.

You’re gasping for air, clutching Jisung’s arm as you laugh so hard your stomach aches. “Minho, you’re going to kill us!”

“Hey, I’m just reporting the facts,” Minho replies, tossing the bra into the trash bag with a flourish. “And the facts are fucking disgusting.”

Jisung, still horrified, shakes his head. “I’m going to burn this room to the ground.”

“Let me grab the bleach first,” Minho says cheerfully, sealing the trash bag. “We’re going to need it.”

As the laughter dies down, Chan steps forward, his face now calm but stern. “Alright, let’s finish this and make sure this perv is out of the house by tonight.”

Everyone nods, though the occasional giggle still bubbles up as Minho lugs the bag toward the door, narrating under his breath about “the tragic tale of crusty lingerie.” You can’t help but laugh again, even as Jisung pulls you close, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and exhaustion.

“This fucking house,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The entire group makes their way outside to the frat house’s backyard, where the fire pit stands as the centrepiece of many questionable decisions. The cool night air carries the faint scent of grass, and the fire pit glows dimly as Seungmin crouches to light it. The flames lick to life, crackling and snapping as everyone gathers around.

Minho, with the trash bag of “evidence” slung over his shoulder like some deranged Santa Claus, steps forward dramatically. “Alright,” he announces, “time to cleanse this house of its filth.”

“Cleanse the house?” Hyunjin echoes, smirking. “You’re literally about to burn jizz-crusted underwear. That’s not cleansing. That’s fumigating.”

Minho ignores him, holding the bag out over the flames. “Farewell to these cursed artefacts,” he intones. “May their spirit haunt no one.”

With that, he dumps the entire bag into the fire. The flames roar higher for a moment as the bag’s contents catch, and a faintly acrid smell fills the air. Everyone groans and steps back, waving their hands.

“Fuck,” Changbin mutters, covering his nose. “That smells worse than Jisung’s gym socks.”

“Hey!” Jisung snaps, glaring at him. “Unnecessary.”

As the flames die back down, you cross your arms, staring at the fire with a frown. “You know,” you say, your tone dry, “that’s like 750,000 won worth of underwear.”

Minho, still holding the tongs like some bizarre ceremonial tool, whirls around to face you. “Why the fuck is your underwear so expensive?!”

“Because I’m classy,” you reply, lifting your chin with mock indignation.

“Fuck yeah, she is,” Jisung cuts in proudly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Classiest jagiya on the planet.”

Felix snickers, nudging Jeongin. “She’s got champagne taste in panties, clearly.”

“Alright, alright,” Minho interrupts, raising a hand like a preacher about to deliver a sermon. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. Everyone, gather ‘round. It’s time for... a prayer.”

“A prayer?” Seungmin deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Minho says seriously. “We must honour the departed and also beg the universe to never let this shit happen again.”

Everyone exchanges amused glances, but they shuffle closer to the fire, forming a loose circle.

Minho clears his throat, holding the tongs reverently over the flames like a sceptre. “Dear holy powers of expensive-ass lingerie,” he begins, his voice deep and dramatic, “we gather here tonight to mourn the loss of Y/N’s panties and bras, taken too soon, sullied by the hands and jizz of a perv.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, hiding your face in Jisung’s shoulder as the group dissolves into muffled laughter.

Minho soldiers on. “We ask for forgiveness for burning these sacred garments, but we do so in the name of cleansing. May their spirit ascend to the great lingerie drawer in the sky, where no man shall ever nut on them again.”

Felix loses it first, doubling over with laughter. Hyunjin follows, leaning against Changbin for support as tears stream down his face.

“And,” Minho continues, ignoring the chaos, “we pray for Y/N’s future panties. May they be free of creeps and crust, and may they rest safely in their rightful place, her drawer. Amen.”

“Amen!” Jeongin shouts through his laughter, throwing his hands in the air like he’s at a revival.

Jisung shakes his head, muttering, “This fucking house,” but he’s grinning as he holds you close. You’re laughing so hard you’re shaking, and Jisung kisses the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

Minho bows deeply, tossing the tongs and gloves into the fire. “Lady and gentlemen,” he says, straightening up, “the perv has been purged.”

“About fucking time,” Chan mutters, shaking his head as the flames crackle behind him.

“Now,” Minho says, clapping his hands, “who wants s’mores? The fire’s already going.”

The living room buzzes with its usual chaos. Felix is sprawled across the couch, scrolling through his phone and occasionally showing you something funny while Hyunjin lounges on the floor, doodling absentmindedly in his sketchbook. Jeongin is perched on the armrest of the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine, tossing in sarcastic comments every few pages. Meanwhile, Minho and Changbin are in the corner, tossing Zak’s ball back and forth as your dog bounds between them, tail wagging so hard it looks like it might fly off.

You’re curled up on the other end of the couch, dressed in a black leather miniskirt and a white blouse, layered with a black leather corset cinching your waist. Your black fluffy socks provide the only hint of comfort in the otherwise polished outfit, and Felix keeps glancing at them with a mix of amusement and approval.

“I like the socks,” Felix says, finally breaking the silence. “It’s like badass on top, cosy on the bottom. Duality.”

You snort, nudging his leg with your foot. “Fashion’s about balance, Lix. You wouldn’t get it.”

He gasps mockingly. “Excuse me? I’m the most fashionable person in this room.”

Hyunjin looks up from his sketchbook, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you wear socks with sandals last week?”

“That was ironic,” Felix defends immediately, sitting up straighter. “I was making a statement.”

Jeongin smirks, flipping a page in his magazine. “The statement was you have no taste.”

Before Felix can argue, the door swings open, and Jisung enters, his arms full as he carries a huge cardboard box. His face is determined, his blue hair slightly messy from the wind outside. “Make way,” he announces dramatically, setting the box down in the centre of the room with a loud thud.

Everyone pauses, watching as he carefully opens the flaps and pulls out a laundry basket. But this isn’t just any laundry basket. It’s metal, reinforced, and clearly equipped with a padlock.

“What the fuck is that?” Minho asks, holding Zak’s ball mid-throw.

“This,” Jisung says, holding up the basket proudly, “is the future of laundry security. I do not care if the panty thief has been ousted; I will protect my girlfriend’s panties forever now. Look!” He lifts a small key on a chain around his neck. “Only I have the key, which I will wear at all times. Just in case Minho decides to play panty hats again.”

Minho, without missing a beat, chucks Zak’s ball directly at Jisung’s head. It bounces off harmlessly as Jisung glares at him. “Hey!”

“It was one time!” Minho exclaims, exasperated. “And you dared me to do it!”

Jisung points an accusing finger at him. “You may not have been the panty thief, but you were way too comfortable putting her panties on your head!”

“They were clean panties!” Minho shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “I did not touch her used panties. That was Pledge Perv!”

“I know,” Jisung says, crossing his arms. “But this is preventative. I study criminal psych. It starts with small fires, then bam! Arson. In your case, clean panties on your head for a dare, and then bam, you’re sniffing my girlfriend’s used panties.”

Everyone groans at the sheer absurdity of his logic, except Minho, who looks utterly betrayed. “Y/N,” Minho says, turning to you with wide eyes, “I swear I will never sniff your used panties.”

You blink at him, then burst into laughter. “Thank you for that confirmation, Minho. That was actually oddly comforting.”

Felix wheezes from the couch, holding his stomach. “This fucking house,” he mutters, wiping at his eyes.

Jisung steps forward, holding up the laundry basket like a prize. “And it gets better. This thing is multipurpose! Someone starts being annoying, and we can lock them in it. Like the chokey from Matilda!”

“Jesus Christ,” Hyunjin mutters, shaking his head as he goes back to his sketchbook.

Jeongin leans forward, inspecting the basket with a smirk. “I mean... it’s not a bad idea. Can we test it on Minho?”

“Fuck you,” Minho shoots back, glaring at him. “I’ve suffered enough in this house.”

“You brought that on yourself,” Changbin points out, tossing Zak’s ball back at Minho with a grin.

Jisung grins, placing the basket down with a flourish. “Mark my words, jagiya. Your panties are safe now. No one’s getting through this bad boy.”

Minho’s eyes narrow as he steps closer to the newly unveiled laundry basket. “We can lock annoying people in there, you say?”

Jisung, completely oblivious to the brewing chaos, nods proudly. “Exactly. Multifunctional, genius, and- Hey, what are you doing?”

Minho doesn’t answer. Instead, he exchanges a quick glance with you, and before Jisung can process what’s happening, Minho lunges at him, tackling him to the couch. You’re quick to follow, snatching the key from around Jisung’s neck as he flails dramatically.

“Traitor!” Jisung yells, looking up at you with mock betrayal. “Jagiya, how could you-”

“Oh, shut up,” you say, laughing as Minho pins him down. “You’re the one who said it was multifunctional.”

Jeongin and Changbin jump into action, grabbing Jisung’s arms and legs as Minho lifts him off the couch. Jisung is shouting the whole time, a mix of curses and sputtered protests. “Put me down, you bastards! This is abuse! Y/N!”

You ignore him, grinning as you open the laundry basket. “In you go, Ji.”

The guys shove him inside with surprising efficiency, slamming the lid down before he can escape. Jisung’s voice muffles immediately as he thrashes inside the basket. “This is not how this thing was supposed to be used!”

You sit on the lid, crossing your arms smugly as you press your weight down. Jisung stills almost instantly. “Jagiya, I swear, you’re making a huge mistake.”

“Am I?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, your voice dripping with amusement. “Because it feels like I’m making the perfect choice.”

Minho leans over, snapping the padlock into place with a flourish. “Alright,” he says, brushing off his hands. “That’s done. I’m starving. Let’s go grab some lunch.”

“Wait, what?” Jisung shouts from inside the basket, his tone shifting from incredulous to panicked. “No! You can’t just leave me in here! Jagiya, don’t let them do this!”

You hop off the basket, slipping into your shoes as Jisung’s muffled protests grow louder. “Sorry, Ji,” you say with a grin, grabbing your bag. “You’re in timeout now.”

“Timeout? This is false imprisonment!” he yells. “Felix, back me up here! Someone, please!”

Felix, ever the chaos enabler, grabs his jacket and waves cheerfully toward the basket. “Bye, Jisung! Don’t worry, we’ll bring you back a doggy bag.”

“Felix!” Jisung screeches, but Felix just snickers, nudging Hyunjin as they head toward the door.

Jeongin grabs the key, holding it up like a trophy. “Think we should keep this as a souvenir?” he asks with a mischievous grin.

Minho snatches it from him. “Nah, let’s leave it here. Adds to the suspense.” He drops it back on the coffee table with a clink, turning to you. “Ready, Y/N?”

“Let’s go,” you reply, slinging your bag over your shoulder as Jisung’s voice continues to echo from the basket.

“Don’t leave me here!” he shouts, his tone shifting to his most pitiful. “Jagiya, please! I’ll do all the laundry for a week! No, a month! Just let me out!”

Hyunjin chuckles, holding the door open as the group files out. “You’ll be fine, Ji. Enjoy your new home.”

“I hate all of you!” Jisung yells as the door clicks shut behind you.

The last thing you hear before you’re out of earshot is Jisung’s dramatic, muffled voice: “This is fucking betrayal! You’ll regret this! JAGIYA!” You laugh, shaking your head as you follow your friends toward lunch, already planning how to tease him about this later.

The house is quiet, the kind of peaceful lull that settles in when everyone’s off doing their own thing. Chan stumbles downstairs after an afternoon nap, his hair sticking up in every direction and his hoodie slightly askew. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he pads toward the kitchen, yawning loudly.

But before he can make it there, faint singing drifts from the living room. It’s woeful and slightly off-key, the kind of exaggerated misery that can only mean one thing. Jisung.

“All by myseeeelf,” Jisung wails, his voice cracking as he drags out the note. “Don’t wanna be... all by myseeeelf anymoreee!”

Chan stops mid-step, his curiosity piqued. He follows the sound and steps into the living room, only to freeze at the sight in front of him.

There’s Jisung, sitting curled up inside the locked laundry basket in the middle of the room, his knees pulled up to his chest as he continues his impassioned rendition of the ballad. Zak runs around the room, occasionally bumping into the basket with his nose, clearly entertained by Jisung’s predicament.

Chan blinks once, then twice, before bursting into laughter. “What the fuck?”

Jisung stops singing immediately, his head snapping up to see Chan standing in the doorway. “Oh, great. You’re awake,” he says, slumping back against the basket’s walls. “The key’s on the table.”

Chan snorts, shaking his head as he steps toward the coffee table to grab the key. “What the fuck happened, man?”

Jisung’s voice is full of betrayal as he explains, “I bought this thing to protect Y/N’s panties, right? And then those bastards, all of them, locked me in it and then, get this, they all went out for food. And! And! Y/N fucking helped them, Chan. My own fucking girlfriend helped them!”

Chan is already laughing so hard he has to lean on the table for support, but Jisung isn’t done. “Seungmin came downstairs half an hour ago, stood right there, laughed in my face, and then he went back to bed! He left me in here! Like this!”

Chan’s laughter crescendos into a full-on howl as he struggles to unlock the padlock. His hands are shaking so much from laughing that it takes him two tries to fit the key in. “Holy shit, Ji,” he wheezes, doubling over. “This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I might actually piss my pants.”

Jisung pouts, crossing his arms over his chest as Zak paws at the side of the basket, barking softly. “This isn’t funny, Chan! This is fucking trauma! I’ve been sitting here singing sad songs to myself for the last hour! I require intense therapy now!"

“Clearly,” Chan chokes out between laughs, finally managing to unlock the padlock and lift the lid. “Man, this is golden. You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

Jisung clambers out of the basket with as much dignity as he can muster, which isn’t much. He straightens his clothes, glaring at Chan, who’s still doubled over and gasping for air.

“You’re the worst,” Jisung mutters, brushing himself off. “And you’re all dead when they get back. Dead. Especially Y/N. My own girlfriend betrayed me.”

Chan shakes his head, still giggling as he collapses onto the couch. “Ji, I’m gonna be laughing about this for weeks.” He wipes at his eyes, his voice still shaking with mirth. “All by myself. Fucking hell, man. I can’t.”

Zak barks again, wagging his tail as he jumps up on Jisung, who sighs and scratches behind the dog’s ears. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Jisung says to Zak, his voice resigned.

Chan lets out another burst of laughter, leaning back on the couch. “Jisung, I’m begging you, never change.”

Jisung glares at him but can’t hold back the small smirk that tugs at his lips. “I hate this house,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat behind his words.

The front door swings open, and you, Minho, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Hyunjin pile back into the Alpha Phi house, laughing and chatting after a long lunch. The smell of fried food still lingers on your clothes, and you kick off your boots near the door, wiggling your toes in your mismatched socks. Minho grumbles as his sneakers get caught on the laces, nearly tripping himself, while Jeongin tosses his shoes haphazardly into the corner.

“Dude, how are you this bad at taking off shoes?” Hyunjin teases, neatly placing his own beside the wall.

“Shut the fuck up,” Minho mutters, finally yanking his sneaker off with a grunt. “At least I don’t look like I’m about to model for a sock commercial.”

Changbin stretches dramatically, his voice booming. “That lunch hit the spot. I could sleep for three hours now.”

“You mean your usual nap,” Jeongin quips, dodging a swat from Changbin as the group makes their way toward the living room.

But the moment you all step inside, the laughter dies. Chan is sitting on the couch, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, while Jisung is standing in front of the coffee table, glaring at the doorway like a man possessed.

“Oh fuck,” Minho mutters under his breath.

Jisung’s expression darkens further when he sees the six you. “Well, well, well,” he says, his tone low and dangerous. “Look who decided to show up.”

Before anyone can respond, Jisung takes a single step forward, and the group instantly scatters like cockroaches under a light. “Run!” Felix yells, grabbing your wrist as he bolts toward the stairs.

You barely have time to pull away before Minho lets out a loud, panicked shriek and scrambles toward the kitchen, with Jeongin and Changbin hot on his heels. Hyunjin stumbles over his own feet, laughing hysterically as he runs toward the back door, shouting, “Every man for himself!”

Felix drags you upstairs, both of you taking the steps two at a time until you reach the second floor. You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting Jisung to be right behind you, but the stairwell is empty.

“Do you think he’s chasing them?” you whisper, crouching down against the hallway wall to catch your breath.

Felix nods, his own breathing ragged as he leans back against the wall beside you. “Oh, 100 percent. Did you hear Minho scream? He’s got to be Jisung’s main target.”

You stifle a laugh, pressing a hand to your mouth as you hear faint shouting from downstairs. Minho’s voice rings out, high-pitched and panicked. “Don’t touch me, you psycho!”

Felix snorts, shaking his head. “Poor Minho. He’s definitely regretting his life choices right now.”

Another round of shouting echoes from the first floor, and you catch snippets of Changbin’s booming laugh and Jeongin’s frantic “He’s gaining on us!” You exchange a look with Felix, and both of you dissolve into quiet giggles, trying to muffle the sound with your sleeves.

“Think he’ll come up here?” Felix whispers, glancing nervously toward the staircase.

“Doubt it,” you reply, adjusting your position to peek around the corner. “I think he’s too focused on Minho.”

“Smart choice,” Felix says, grinning. “Minho’s the worst at running. He’s fucked.”

As if on cue, another shriek from Minho echoes through the house, followed by Jisung’s triumphant yell. “Got you, asshole!”

Felix leans closer, whispering urgently, “We need to move. If he catches Minho, we’re next. And I’m not about to be victim number two.”

You nod, already rising to your feet. The chaos downstairs seems to have quieted for a moment, which only makes you more anxious. “He’s probably planning something,” you whisper back, glancing nervously toward the staircase.

“Exactly,” Felix says, tugging at your sleeve. “Let’s go before he decides to head up here.”

The two of you dart down the hallway, your footsteps soft against the hardwood floors. Felix glances over his shoulder every few seconds, his paranoia palpable as you reach the other flight of stairs that leads to the opposite side of the house. “Quietly,” he mutters, raising a finger to his lips as he starts down the steps.

But as soon as you reach the bottom, your stomach drops. Standing there, looking far too pleased with himself, is Jisung. His blue hair is slightly dishevelled from the earlier chaos, and his grin is both smug and dangerous.

“Going somewhere, jagiya?” he asks, tilting his head.

You barely have time to yelp before he lunges forward, grabbing you by the waist and effortlessly tossing you over his shoulder. “Jisung!” you squeal, your hands scrambling for purchase as the world tilts upside down.

He holds you securely, one arm wrapped around your legs while his free hand presses down on the back of your skirt. “Relax, I’ve got you,” he says, his tone playful. “Can’t have you flashing everyone, can I?”

From your awkward upside-down position, you can see Felix staring wide-eyed from the top of the stairs. “You’re on your own!” he shouts, bolting in the opposite direction.

“Felix, you asshole!” you yell, laughing despite yourself as Jisung starts walking back toward the living room, his steps steady and confident.

You shift slightly, trying to wiggle free, but his grip tightens. “Don’t even try it, jagiya,” he warns, giving your thigh a light pat. “You’re not going anywhere.”

With a mischievous grin, you reach down and give his ass a firm squeeze. Jisung freezes for a split second before letting out an exaggerated groan. “Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “No ass for you. You’re in trouble, remember?”

“What kind of trouble?” you tease, grinning against his shoulder.

“The kind where you’re in air jail for the rest of the day,” he replies, his voice mock-serious. “I try to protect your panties, and what do I get? Locked in a fucking laundry basket like I’m the bad guy. No, jagiya, you’ve brought this on yourself.”

“Air jail?” you ask, laughing as he gives your thigh another pat.

“Air jail,” he confirms, starting to bounce you lightly on his shoulder. “And I’ve got muscles now, so I can do that shit. Naughty girlfriend air jail, all day long.”

You shriek with laughter as he jerks his shoulder, jostling you like you’re nothing more than a sack of flour. “Jisung, put me down!” you protest, though you’re laughing too hard to sound convincing.

“Nope,” he says, popping the “p” with a grin. “Not until you’ve learned your lesson. You locked me up, jagiya. Me! Your sweet, innocent boyfriend who just wanted to protect your underwear.”

“Innocent, my ass,” you mutter, giggling.

He smirks, adjusting his grip on you as he steps into the living room. “Speaking of your ass, keep your hands to yourself. That’s part of your punishment.”

“You’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head against his back.

“And you love me,” he replies confidently, plopping down onto the couch with you still slung over his shoulder. “Welcome to air jail. Population: you.”

Ten minutes pass, and the living room has mostly settled back into its usual chaos. Jisung is perched on the couch, still smugly holding you draped over his shoulder like a prize he refuses to relinquish. You’ve mostly given up struggling, half-laughing and half-groaning as he adjusts his position, jostling you slightly every now and then just to remind you who’s in charge of “air jail.”

Suddenly, Minho shuffles into the room, his trousers bunched around his ankles, one hand tugging at the back of his underwear. His face is red with equal parts rage and humiliation as he glares at Jisung. “You wedgied me so fucking hard, man! I can taste my underwear! My asshole might actually be bleeding!”

Jisung shrugs nonchalantly, which jostles you again. You yelp, slapping his back lightly. “Ji! Careful!”

“Sorry, jagiya,” he says, grinning before turning his attention back to Minho. “You started it, man. You were the first to lunge, which led to me being imprisoned in a laundry basket until the only decent soul in this house let me out.”

“That doesn’t mean you pull my underwear up so high you split my fucking balls!” Minho snaps, waddling over to the armchair. He places a cold bag of peas on the cushion before lowering himself gingerly onto it with a groan. “Jesus Christ. I might never walk the same again.”

Jisung smirks, leaning back on the couch. “That’s what you get.”

Minho points at you, still draped over Jisung’s shoulder. “You might wanna let your girlfriend up before her brain pops from all the blood rushing to her head.”

Jisung sighs dramatically, patting your back. “Alright, alright. You’ve served your time in air jail.”

Finally, he shifts, carefully helping you down from his shoulder. Your hair is slightly mussed, and you give him a playful glare as you straighten your skirt.

“You’re impossible,” you say, but the grin tugging at your lips betrays your words.

“And you love me,” Jisung replies, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you trapped. “But don’t get too comfortable. You’ve gotta earn your freedom.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup,” he says, his grin widening. “You’re helping me plan my revenge on Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin. They all left me to rot, and now it’s their turn.”

You laugh, leaning back against his chest. “Done. What’s the plan?”

From the armchair, Minho groans. “If there’s another trap, I’m sitting this one out. My balls can’t handle it.”

You, Jisung, and Minho exchange a glance before bursting into laughter, the kind of uncontrollable, ridiculous laughter that only comes from living in a house as chaotic as this one. Jisung’s arms tighten around you, and you can’t help but think, despite the madness, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx

Proofread by the lovely @eastjonowhere

[thewinter-eden]

psycho | han jisung

Pairings: Han x OC, Minho x OC

Summary: Anna finds herself trapped in the captivity of a psychopath with numerous other prisoners. The other girls who have been there for a while have been starved and abused, and Anna is obviously headed for the same fate.

Han Jisung, one of the prisoners, a sweet and handsome boy, serves as caretaker for the girls after sessions of abuse. As he and Anna grow closer, struggling to find their way home, the truth about her captor and his plans unfold in the worst ways possible.

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and Wattpad under alone-at-last.

Genre: horror, thriller

Rating: mature, explicit

Status: ALL CHAPTERS POSTED (20 chapters)

Content warnings: explicit descriptions of violence/torture, mentions of sa, mentions of rape, hurt/comfort, heavy angst, lots of sadness, death, murder, mentions of suicide, starvation, fear, insecurities, hopelessness.

PLEASE READ INFO BELOW

Chapters

1 : hannie 2 : blood soaked cloth 3 : virtues and vices 4 : missing persons 5 : the first one 6 : the knife 7 : the new girl 8 : stay with me 9 : punished 10 : moments in the dark 11 : the pink door 12 : he already knew 13 : the society 14 : I already did 15 : i've got you 16 : here's looking at you 17 : master of levity 18 : never again 19 : all over soon 20 : nothing you can do

THE END

note :

I suck at summaries - they're my kryptonite.

characters :

disclaimer : age manipulation and ambiguity for sake of story.

[the man I'm a little bit afraid of] Bang Chan

??yo, captain of police

[the man I would work out with but never spot on bench press] Seo Changbin

??yo, police lieutenant

[this freaking muse of a man] Hwang Hyunjin

??yo, shop owner

[the other man I'm slightly afraid of] Kim Seungmin

22yo, police officer

[the guy who tricked me into SKZ cult] Lee Felix

??yo, shop owner

[this mini mafioso of a man] Yang Jeongin

??yo, prisoner of Cain (Han's little brother)

[the man who literally haunts my dreams] Han Jisung

22yo, prisoner of Cain

[the man who hurts my feelings regularly] Lee Minho

24yo, police officer

[fill in your own mental image, guys, idk] Anna Park

18yo, prisoner of Cain

[fill in a second mental image ig] Cass Young

20yo, prisoner of Cain

a/n :

don't come for me. I know this is dark but I had to motivate myself to write this story as a backstory for one of my other projects, so I had to transpose SKZ over it or I would never get it done. In ten years, if any of you see this plot in a sucky indie book on a random Goodwill bookshelf, no you didn't.

a/n 2 :

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Or something like that.

so...I don't actually know SKZ? [If I personally knew Han and Lee Know well enough to accurately represent them in a story like this I would—] so, yeah, anyways those guys are real people who do great things in the entertainment industry and the characters named after them in this story are fake people. Hope that clears things up.

tag list: (Comment a request to be added or removed)

@kayleefriedchicken @eastjonowhere @mysterysold @velvetmoonlght

[jinnie-ret]

ep 7: the final weddings

ratings: fluffy, teeny angst

warnings: slight suggestive comment (from Minho lol)

running time: 2.5k words

summary: two traditions and two similar lifestyles come together. will they both be a match made in heaven?

SKZ MAFS MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍

They were matched because they've got similar lifestyles, Octavia is a headstrong driven woman who will make sure Seungmin knows she's here to stay for real. With his past relationship it could have caused trust issues, so despite his sometimes blunt demeanour we can tell this is someonewho truly thinks deeply and may need a taste of his own medicine to keep him out of his own head.

A gorgeous orchard with midnight blue flowers wound round trellises cocooned the seats lined up and ready for the wedding to take place. This scenic courtyard had bellows of periwinkle fabric hung above, along with some starry fairy lights creating a magical scene. Both Seungmin and Octavia's family were already sat and waiting for the marriage to be sealed. It may not have been the sunniest of days, the cloudy weather making the anticipated mood seem quite overcast. Fortunately, the almost bubble of a venue and the atmosphere that was about to erupt would make for a much brighter time.

Seungmin was first to walk down the aisle, arms hanging by his sides nervously, something that was out of character for him. His friends and family had noticed right away. In fact, by the time he had reached the top, all he could muster up was a small and short bow to both families. It wasn't like him, he had been in plenty of meetings before, ones with high pressure, but now here he was fiddling with the hem of his black tuxedo. Even with the calming aura of his surroundings, his mind was suddenly working at 100 miles per hour. Had he noticed the way that Octavia's family were whispering amongst themselves, it would have made him felt even more anxious.

Octavia happily strutted down the aisle, a bundle of nerves and excitement decorated by a sleek, silky wedding dress, that showed off her figure she was so used to modelling in her line of work. The warmth in the blush on her cheeks and the nude pink shade of her lips contrasted wonderfully with her chocolatey hair cascading down in elegant curls. With her father by her side to give her away, she felt that something was up in the air as soon as he left her side and Seungmin turned to face her.

“Hi, how are you?” Octavia smiled brightly and opened her arms to Seungmin in a short hug.

“Yeah, good,” Seungmin barely wrapped his arms around her before pulling away and looking down.

Octavia exchanged nervous glances with her family, but they tried as best as they could to reassure her with their own looks.

M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍

These are two animal lovers who, oddly enough, even though their reasons for joining the experiment may sound different at first, there is actually a lot of crossover between the two. Minho clearly wants that feeling of being in a relationship again, and Ishani is looking for someone she can trust. With Minho's open heart, he will be more than welcoming to Ishani, and together they can help each other grow as people.

A round circular path, with the grand presentation of a water fountain in the middle of it, led to an old traditional hall. The sandy tones of the building encompassed an interior with beautiful, chromatic tones, ornate in their history and attractive in stature. A vibrant red carpet created the aisle, surrounded by dark oak, wooden pews, currently being filled by guests. As they entered, you could already see how two cultures were being brought together, people of all ages from South Korea and India now sat waiting.

Minho of course walked down the aisle first, admiring the candles lit that created a glowing atmosphere and warmth he was excited to walk into. As he walked across the soft carpet, he wore a nervous grin on his face, bowing politely to both sides of the guests. His friends were especially excited to see him, as they initially couldn’t believe that this was real. Both of his parents were also there, his mum cutely holding onto a keyring of three cats, Soonie, Doongie and Dori. The whole setting seemed to match Minho’s elegant suit, the black suit he adorned having small details such as golden cat cufflinks, along with thin maroon lapels and a handkerchief that was the same colour, neatly tucked into his pocket. This was it, the day he got married.

The silence in the room only lasted moments long, before Ishani walked around the corner, hand intertwined with her father’s. She was a gorgeous sight to behold, ruby red lehenga with a gota patti embroidery style in gold, creating a beautiful blend of hues on her skirt. Of course, it was paired with a matching top and scarf. Another aspect of Ishani’s wedding ensemble was the henna that decorated her hands and feet. Despite the nature of the show, Ishani got the approval from her parents she needed to begin this adventure in her life, yet they had requested that she still pay homage to her roots and present traditionally. She had happily agreed, meaning that in a celebration of wishing her good health and prosperity, or, Mendhi, that was when the ink became apparent. Her mother had even cheekily made it darker, showing that she wished for a strong sense of love between her daughter and husband to be - in reality this strong bond would already be apparent. The stronger the henna, the more in love the couple is said to be.

Minho’s eyes twinkled with amazement and fondness as soon as his eyes connected with Ishani’s and she felt her heart nearly beating out of her chest as her father walked her further up the aisle, hoping that she’d get his approval to be with the handsome man in front of her.

“Hi, I’m Ishani,” she smiled radiantly at Minho, seeming like she wanted to do something more, give him a hug, at least.

“I’m Minho, it’s lovely to meet you. You look truly amazing,” Minho charmingly spoke, truth in every ounce of his words. He too wanted to hold his wife-to-be in his arms, yet he felt a bit awkward in doing so when her father was still standing right there.

“Ishani, take my hand,” her father spoke, before looking at Minho to do the same. He tutted as first when his left hand was presented, but quickly connected the younger two’s right hands together, visibly indicating his approval for the marriage in an act of Kanyadaan. After that, he smiled, patted Minho on the shoulder and took his seat next to his own wife.

“He approves,” Ishani reassured Minho with joy evident, quickly taking away his worry and mainly confusion.

In response, Minho sighed in relief, “thank goodness for that,” and then gently brought Ishani into a hug. Once they both pulled away, bashfully, mind you, the priest approached and officially began the ceremony.

S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍

“Octavia, would you like to go first?” the priest asked, the girl nodding in response.

“I feel like I’ve always been looking for the right person, so I’m hoping you’re the one who will stop my endless searching,” Octavia began with a slight out of character apprehension, but soon found her feet. “I hope that we can constantly build each other up and always have each others’ backs, because I know I’ve already got yours. I promise to make you laugh, hold you when you cry and eventually tell you how much I care for you. In sickness and in health, as the saying goes.”

Next, it was Seungmin’s turn.

“Loyalty and faithfulness are both incredibly important to me, so know that I will always stick by you whilst having a laugh too. I may come across as a closed book at first, but once you get to know me I hope you will appreciate and learn all the different sides to me, just as I promise I will do for you as well. This is a crazy thing we’re both doing, but I’m excited for the adventure we are about to begin,” he sighed in relief and gave a small smile once again to Octavia. She seemed more relaxed now after hearing his vows and getting an insight into his personality.

M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍

“To my wife, I don’t know you yet but I want you to know that I am willing to put my best efforts into this marriage so that it works. I will be there by your side to cherish all the little moments we have, and to celebrate the milestones we make in our relationship to come. I am very passionate about my job and what I do in life, so I promise to uplift you, encourage you and simply be there for you in whatever you do,” Minho calm and collectively recited his vows.

“My husband, this is certainly not a conventional way to find the love of my life but I hope that is what you will be to me. Trust is incredibly important to me, so I hope that this is something we can have between the two of us as we get to know each other more and more. I promise to stay by your side, and grow as a person with you as we explore this marriage together. Also, you better be a cat person,” Ishani threw in jokingly at the end.

“I love cats!” Minho exclaimed with relief, eyes widening in a newfound fondness already.

“Really?!”

“Yes, I have three!”

Their small, excited murmurs were interrupted by the priest reminding them to place their rings on each other's hands.

S.O 🤍 M.I 🤍 S.O 🤍 M.I 🤍 S.O 🤍 M.I 🤍

When Seungmin and Octavia shared their first kiss, it was short but sweet. There was a tentative approach yet soon they would be able to relax in their shared presence. Minho and Ishani’s kiss lasted a bit longer, and it was the clearing of the throat from her father, soon drowned out by the cheering of Minho’s friends, that jolted them out of their bubble.

S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍

It was now time for their first dinner together, where everyone was gathered around tables and getting to know each other. The newly married couple sat at the head of the stunning buffet, fortunately getting along quite well, exchanging stories of their travels.

“So, what do you do for work?” Seungmin enquired curiously.

“I’m a model. I do travel quite a lot for work so I hope that won’t be an issue for us?” Octavia crossed her fingers underneath the table, Seungmin spotting this.

“Haha, you don’t have to do that, it won’t be an issue for me at all. Actually, my work has me travelling a lot too,” he admitted with a nod.

“Really? What do you do?” Octavia shifted her body to face him more, taking a sip from her champagne flute.

“Ah, it’s a talent company for actors, singers, models too, actually,” Seungmin tried to discreetly describe what he does without naming the company.

“Wow, that's amazing!” Octavia nodded feeling impressed, something at the back of her mind feeling satisfied that they would be financially stable as a couple in the outside world.

“It is, I do love my job. Where’s your favourite place you’ve travelled to?” Seungmin asked.

“The one that comes to my mind first… I’d probably say Amsterdam. It’s just something about the atmosphere of that city that feels like you’re in another world; the culture, the art, the canals…” Octavia trailed off fondly.

“Sounds like a five star review. I’ve never been,” Seungmin acknowledged.

“No way! It’s amazing, really. I hope our honeymoon is there,” Octavia remarked in a wishful tone.

M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍

“So, you said you have three cats? What are their names?” Ishani asked the question she had wanted to ask ever since their mini discussion had been cut off earlier.

“Soonie, Doongie and Dori. They’re my babies,” Mihno cutely smiled, the expression reaching his eyes.

“Oh they sound so cute! I’m a vet and I love it when cats get brought into work,” Ishani commented, using her knife and fork to cut through her food.

“You’re a vet? Hey, one of the cats at this cat cafe I work at-”

“You work at a cat cafe? You’re an absolute dream,” Ishani couldn’t stop herself from interrupting, her heart fluttering.

“Yeah, it’s, umm, it's really fun,” Minho stuttered ever so slightly, not expecting the sudden compliment, “but, umm, yeah, one of the cats from the cat cafe keeps escaping the kennel area at night, and starts running around the cafe area and knocking things down. Is there something we should be doing?”

“You sure they aren’t drinking the coffee from behind the counter?” Ishani teased.

“No, no, no,” Minho chuckled and waved her question off.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It sounds like they’ve just got the zoomies and are trying to burn off some energy before getting some sleep,” Ishani thoughtfully considered.

“Burn off energy? It’s like they’re trying to burn years off of my life expectancy,” Minho whined jokingly, making his wife burst out into laughter.

S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍 S.O 🤍

“Something about walking around, just the two of us, feels so much better,” Octavia mused, her hand intertwined with Seungmins as they wandered the grand hall their wedding had taken place in.

“I agree. Feels more… calm. I definitely feel more relaxed now,” Seungmin declared quietly, almost like he felt a bit sensitive in doing so.

“I did notice that during the day you seemed to relax more,” Octavia nodded in agreement.

“Oh you did? You must have thought ‘what have I gotten myself into?’ when we were at the ceremony,” Seungmin expressed in an exaggerated tone

“Yeah, I did,” Octavia sighed.

“Wait… really?” Seungmin paused in his tracks, causing his wife to stop too.

“No! I’m kidding, chill,” Octavia rolled her eyes with a smirk, pulling him forwards with her.

“Aish,” Seungmin blinked in amazement at being fooled. There seemed to be a void in his heart that was already being filled, little by little.

M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍 M.I 🤍

After the dinner with their loved ones, Minho and Ishani had sat down on the edge of the water fountain outside, admiring the greenery and fairy lights around them, as well as the starry night sky. The conversation between them flowed so naturally, before Minho’s intrusive thoughts got in the way.

“What if I pushed you in?” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Not in these clothes!” Ishani whacked him on the shoulder lightly, both physically and in intention.

“Right, they’re far too gorgeous to ruin,” Minho let his eyes scan her outfit once more.

“Hey! What about… I don’t know, me?!” Ishani folded her arms.

“What… are you too gorgeous to ruin?” Minho seductively lowered his voice, before reminding himself this was the first day they had met, they hadn’t even known each other for 24 hours yet and Ishani’s eyes had immediately widened upon his question. “Omo, forget about that…”

“Ok, ok,” Ishani nodded, turning away and trying to hide her smile, seeing that Minho was trying to dig himself out of the hole he had just made.

“You do look lovely though,” Minho affirmed, always the gentleman.

“Thanks,” Ishani patted him on the knee. Their wedding day couldn’t have gotten any better. Now, they were both just excited for their honeymoon so that they could learn even more things about each other.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

viewers: @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @turtledove824 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse @jyu-037 @keen-li @strawberry31 @5starlee @shua-f4lmings @amararosesblog @noyurcapri @babybreadddd @theo4eve @gimmeurtummy @zee-143 @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @katzline @haodore @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @2minstan @milf-ivy

[hanibalistic]

THE CLASSIFIED INVESTIGATION UNIT | STRAY KIDS.

genre | (in general of the universe) fluff, angst, friendship, action, found family au, magic au

synopsis | between meeting a new recruit and being sent to catch a criminal to do damage control, the last thing you thought would happen to you and the twins, as one of the nation's strongest trio, was getting your ass heavily kicked.

word count | 26.2k+

warning | fighting & violence, blood, injuries, descriptions of body mutilation / mentions of kidnapping & criminal activities / sacrilege

universe | tciu / here is the discord link to its world-building server if you are interested in knowing more :)

note | sonic the hedgehog. sonice the hedgehog... so nice... / thank you brat for the name :) / fight write is hard!

There was an abandoned cathedral that was never taken down. They grew trees around it instead and planted a bed of flowers on the ground surrounding it. 

An old Jesus Christ statue hung in the center of the cathedral's inside; those born without a given power would turn to Christianity to have something to believe in or a community to belong to. It almost felt daunting for you to step foot into the cathedral the first time because of the existence of Han and Jisung. Somehow you always forgot that they were not the actual manifestation of an angel and a demon, and that those labels were only reification. Jisung, the angel counterpart of the twins, turned the statue upside down when he entered.

The cathedral was still empty when you arrived. It usually was vacant, saved for the leisure moments when you would visit for peace of mind even though the cathedral was broken and ugly. 

The only trace of light came from the rose window above the double doors that creaked whenever they were moved, and it shone a light directly onto the upside-down statue of Christ. Unless the doors were kept open, most of the inside of the cathedral was barely visible. The wooden pews were dusted into homes of spiderwebs and unknown crawlers, and there were no designated seats for you or anybody else who would come by. 

The only thing left of this holy ground was an eeriness that ran strong even before its abandonment. But at least it was far away and quiet. Hidden among trees and surrounded by cooing doves, at least the cathedral held a silence nowhere else but your bedroom at three in the morning held. But, even with that, the haunting shadows unlit by the sun seemed to have a past vengeance that would sometimes creep a cold shiver down your spine, so you did think the reason why you could find inner peace in this cathedral at all was that Jisung and Han were here. 

You glimpsed at your phone to check the time before turning it off and resting it on your lap with your hands. You exhaled as you leaned your head on Han’s shoulder. He barely moved in response, already deep into concentrating ahead during this familiar waiting process. Occasionally Han would wonder how you three were often the earliest to arrive for team meetings when there were three of you while everyone else just had to prepare for one. But the issue never bothered him enough to find an answer. 

“What are we doing here?” Jisung asked from where he sat up on the end of the statue’s wooden cross, breaking the silence. He swung his spread legs, barely hitting the old sculpted marble with the back of his shoes, and he carelessly suckled on the tootsie pop. 

Han scrunched his nose in distaste when he glanced at Jisung’s careless demeanor. That was, in no way, an indication that he cared about anything of religious endeavors. But being a literal manifestation of a dead God himself, there was something about a tarnished statue once worshipped that was so unappealing to him. It could be resonance; his unknown creator died similarly, with their statue flipped over and nobody praying at their feet. But mostly, Han thought he didn’t like anything unconventional that Jisung did. It was a sibling thing. 

“Get off the cross, Jisung,” Han scolded.

Jisung popped the candy out of his mouth and pouted. The velocity of his swinging legs increased a spiteful fraction, which proved the existence of a mischievous glint hidden in his adorable eyes drenched with faux concern. He grinned in satisfaction when he met Han's glare, knowing well that his twin brother did not care about this enough to physically make him get off his unconventional seat. If nobody planned to do that, and you decided not to verbally accost him for his disrespect, he would keep doing it.

You chuckled lowly when you felt the heavy sigh trapped within Han’s chest. Lifting your head from his shoulder, you flipped your phone over to recheck the time before looking up at Jisung. He grinned at you when you two met eyes, not a care in the world, which was how he was supposedly born to live on this Earth, ironically a sharp contrast to how he was born. 

“Changbin is going to wrestle you out of there when he arrives and sees you like this,” you said. 

“He’s coming?” Jisung asked with widened eyes.

“Yeah… yeah?” You looked at him with disbelief, unsure why he was surprised, but a part of you began questioning yourself upon Jisung’s confusion. “Everyone is always at these meetings.” 

“Seungmin is never anywhere but his stupid, niche dude laboratory.” Jisung rolled his eyes. “It’s not even a laboratory. He just has computers in the room.”

That was partially true. Jisung was right about Seungmin’s government-provided office, which was just a basement Jeongin had convinced to be provided to their shared home, not being a laboratory. But there were more than just computers in the basement. A section of the wall covered with screens and multiple rolling whiteboards filled with scribbles and printed-out pictures of faces made an intricate system that only Seungmin and Jeongin could and were required to understand. 

Additionally, there was a corner of food cabinets that Jeongin would often restock to fulfill Seungmin’s wish of never seeing the light of day again. In return, Seungmin takes down any online harassment directed toward Jeongin so he can keep his terrible attitude everywhere on broadcasts.  In terms of toxic reinforcement, this duo can rival you and the twins. 

“I don’t think Chan is always here for these meetings either,” Han mentioned with a tilt of his head. “But then again, he is somehow always everywhere, all the time.” 

“I am, indeed, everywhere, all the time.”

You flinched at the closeness of Chan’s sudden appearance, almost jumping out of your seat as you turned your head to look behind your shoulder and found Chan smiling humorously between where you and Han sat. Han missed Chan sneaking up behind him, but he did not scare as easily as you, so within the calm processing of Chan’s abrupt emergence, he could execute retaliation by shooting a hand out to grab at Chan’s face. He missed because Chan swiftly scooted backward on the pew and leaned into the uncomfortable seat. 

“Where did you even come from?” you asked rhetorically, but one wouldn’t have caught onto that without explicit mention. You brushed off the hair that rose on your skin, annoyed scoffs leaving your lips. 

“Where else? From the door.” Chan pointed a thumb backward at the doors that were already closed.

You furrowed your brows. He was lying, but you could not figure out any alternative to how he could have entered the cathedral without any of you noticing him. If he went through the double doors, there should be some sensory indication of his arrival. The doors were so old that they creaked whenever they were opened. Even if Chan somehow managed to silently push one door open, the light that would temporarily shine through the gap would be impossible to miss, especially by Jisung, who was sitting directly across those doors. 

However, you would not put it past Jisung to stay quiet upon Chan’s arrival. Chan wasn’t much of a stickler for good etiquette; he didn’t have the right to be with his background. If he wasn’t asked to be on his best behavior, which he has been pleaded to on multiple occasions, Jisung would gladly not do so. He wouldn’t go out of his way to behave terribly, but he was troubling enough as his regular self.

“So,” Chan kicked his feet up and rested his ankle on his knee, “what were you guys talking about?”

“I didn’t know Changbin was coming,” Jisung muttered unwillingly as he hopped off the upside-down cross. He dusted his knees which were uncovered by his shorts. This time his face held a pout. 

Chan’s gaze trailed after Jisung as he moved begrudgingly toward you and Han. Jisung kicked Han’s feet when he squeezed between the space so he could sit next to you. 

“Why does it matter if he is coming to the meeting?” Chan asked, amused. “Does one of the shoulder twins have a bad case of daddy issue?” 

An alarmed but amazed smile slowly widened itself onto his face when the three of you simultaneously turned around to level him with an exasperated and unappreciative glare. The frequently debunked theory about you three being siblings surfaced in his head, and he shook it off with a shrug. You three were right about it being wrong, not because you would know your origin and relationship best, but because there was no way you three weren’t one unified being. The constantly coincidental rate you three operated around each other was too uncanny to be a product of just being close siblings. 

“I don’t have daddy issues,” Jisung argued. 

“Also, technically, Changbin isn’t our dad,” you said. 

“And if anyone here has daddy issues, it should be you,” Han followed pointedly after you.

You three would do this sometimes—talk in sequences, one after the other, as if you were taking turns to speak fragments of a long sentence. The sentence you three individually utter could be put together into one prolonged sentence that, frankly to Chan, could have been said by just one of you. If not one long sentence, then you three would talk in relation to what the previous person said, adding new information but not straying from the initial point. 

Chan was never a big fan of that. Everyone else brushed it off, though. 

“That’s a bit harsh,” Chan mentioned dismissively. “He was your foster dad.”

“He would still be our foster dad if we didn’t choose to leave the system once we turned eighteen,” you said, putting quotation marks around the word ‘leave.’ A distasteful shrug arched at your shoulders as you scoffed at Chan’s disagreeing brows. “We were kids, but we weren’t stupid. We were just immature.”

“Were?” Chan snickered. 

“We’re not laughing,” Han said. “Why else would we have to leave our previously perfect foster home for a single-parent household, where our guardian not only has no experience working with children before but was also coincidentally working for the military? The change happened immediately after the both of us were measured in the power scale test too.”

“We have been around since [Name] was born, and nothing outrageous has happened until we got transferred to the private school. Things started going downhill from there, and whose fault is that?” Jisung chimed in after pulling the tootsie pop out of his mouth. “There was no reason for them to suspect us unless ulterior motives existed. If they were truly afraid of us, they would have been smart enough to keep us in a nurturing environment, but they took us out instead and dumped us at the doorsteps of some military lackey who couldn’t give a shit about us.”

You pursed your lips together and laughed lowly once Jisung’s voice dropped. He looked down at you, confused, then back up at Han, who maintained a knowing smirk. He thought he was contributing to the conversation just fine, so why were the both of you laughing? Upon his genuinely questioning face, you laughed even louder and leaned back into Han to nudge him with your elbow.

“There is no reason to suspect us–pfff!” You wiped away an invisible tear. “That’s rich coming from you!”

“What?” Jisung screamed in his defense. “How am I the issue? Look at Han! He literally broke someone’s wrist with his bare hand!”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, “he had to do it.” You weren’t even sure which occasion Jisung was speaking of.

“Oh, okay!” Jisung slurred in exasperation, clearly mocking you. “When he does it, it’s necessary. But when I do it, I have violent tendencies.”

“You do have violent tendencies,” you said. 

“Also, I don’t know how you could get it so wrong because you were there when it happened, but technically I didn’t break it in one go,” Han clarified with a grimace, already deduced the event his brother mentioned with little to no hints. “I fractured their bone first, and then I shattered it. It wasn’t hard to break because it was already fractured beforehand.”

You gasped in realization. “Oh, that’s what you were talking about.”

Jisung shook his head. “You didn’t know–you defended him!”

“I always assume Han only does things out of necessity.”

Chan watched you three banter away about who was more aggressive and violent. In silence, his thoughts lingered on what Jisung unknowingly revealed about how you three felt about the whole shebang you were forced to go through as children, which was that the real issue lay in the fact that you all thought Changbin didn’t care about you three. 

He always forgot how uncharacteristically human you three were. Conceived by force and birthed by love, the literal manifestations of a God, the three cosmic accidents—no matter the labels the media have slapped onto the three of you to fulfill their need to make sense of your inconceivably strong ability none has received from a God before, to reason with your inhumane existence, there was no denying that ultimately you three yearned for the same thing most people did: parental affection, and a normal childhood. 

Not a regular life, just a regular upbringing.

Most of the relationship problems Chan knew about you three and Changbin he heard directly from the foster father himself. Chan recognized many of the discrepancies Changbin has with you three resulted from Changbin not knowing how to be a father, which he could never have learned how to! He did not agree to foster you; he was ordered to after being selected as a capable candidate to keep watch over Jisung and Han. It was never a good idea. The authorities should have known that teenage fiery in the hands of powerful children would react terribly to the expectations of a man trained in the special forces. 

The only good thing about picking Seo Changbin as the foster parent was that he was a good man. Besides the disguised abuse of keeping you three under supervision like caged animals, he cared deeply about you all, and he did all he could to make the best of the time remaining in your adolescence. Alas, while he was a good man, he was not a good father, and you three wanted affection from a parent, not a kind stranger. If he was indeed a father, he would have cut himself out of fostering you three, or at least he would have done his parenting without the government's guidance. 

Immature was too harsh of a word. Ignorant, or even unknowledgeable, would be the better way to describe how you three used to feel about this because it was much more complicated than only what he could have done. There would always be what the authorities could have done to you three if Changbin didn’t agree to be your temporary guardian and did, half-heartedly, what he was told. None of you could have ever factored that into the equation as teenagers. Looking at the bigger picture and being able to analyze it was not in your bones at that age. You were still being taught how to do that.

But, ultimately, actions speak louder than words. As much as you three deny the familial relationship, you play the role of children the way most parents are familiar with. 

Ignoring Changbin’s constant nags to clean your shared room; arguing about taking turns folding the laundry and washing the dishes just to end up having your dad do everything; brief answers to questions about your day during dinner; discreetly throwing snacks into the shopping cart during grocery runs; slamming the door in retaliation of being screamed at despite having the power to do so much more damage. You can say all you want about how much you disliked Changbin, but playing the role of children and letting him act as your father was a choice you all made.

It was unfair for you three to discuss Changbin the way you were, but Chan supposed that was an inevitable experience. 

“Dude, he’s gone.”

“I’m not. I just tuned you three out,” Chan muttered as he swatted the snapping fingers before his face away. “Also, they’re right, Jisung. You do have violent tendencies.” 

Jisung sat back down in his seat with furrowed brows. A half-hearted scoff left his lips just as he pulled the almost-finished tootsie pop out of his mouth. “I know?” He put the hard candy back inside his mouth and bit down hard to crush the ball. The stick was thrown carelessly behind his shoulder after. “We were already done with that conversation. Catch up.” 

Chan smiled warmly; getting him riled up would take a lot more. He watched you three drown in short conversations, one after another, about school, work, and different variations of the same insult match. He didn’t forcefully insert himself into your discussions because he was too drowsy to handle your three ganging up on him. Whatever happened just now was enough, so he spent the next few minutes dozing off in silence until the doors dramatically opened again. 

“Yang Jeongin! You are late!” Jisung hollered after he jumped off his seat. 

“Yeah, today is our only day off from school,” you said without looking up from the clock on your phone. 

“We weren’t gonna do anything, but still,” Han finished. 

Jeongin raised a brow from the doorway. The sunlight behind him glowed over his body, making him appear like a celestial being. He let the door creak shut behind him as he shuffled to the cathedral's center at an unhurried space. Giving a nod at the upside-down statue of Christ, Jeongin walked behind the pulpit and rested his hands on the side of it. He heaved a sigh dramatically with a smile.

“Chan,” he acknowledged, “and the three musketeers.” 

Han smirked even though he didn’t particularly find it funny. He knew for sure that Jeongin’s mischief was only fueled by the sulk in you and Jisung’s shoulders, even if Jeongin may not be sure whether you two were sulking because of how fashionably late Jeongin was or that he mentioned you three were going to spend the day off being unproductive anyway.

“Sorry for being late. I had a presentation today at school,” Jeongin said with a few rhythmic tilts of his head. “Then I have an emergency press conference for the stunt you guys pulled at the metro station last week!”

You were dispatched last week to fulfill one of the more straightforward BOLO requests made on the website Seungmin made to help him better seek out cases for the unit. When Hyunjin related the matter to you, he complained about the vague details Seungmin gave him before informing you of the face of the man you were asked to catch, a broad time range and the location where he would be within the time frame. You should have asked more of the request, but you remembered Hyunjin mentioning something about the website not being within the scope of the investigation unit work, making it technically a work of vigilantism to fulfill citizen requests, which would be illegal. 

The vague details were Seungmin’s way of making sure none of you dumbasses (his words) could make an unnecessary mess with the police by oversharing. 

That man was fast; hyper-speed was typical, but catching him during rush hour made it a hassle. You suggested taking the chase to the moving train; one way to stop a runner from escaping is to block the paths he could run to. 

Before the train could reach the next station, while it was still in the middle of the railroad among shopping buildings and above car roads, you had Han manually stop it by causing a malfunction. You didn’t give him the idea to clear out a car of passengers so he could blow it up in the middle of the railroad. Han thought of that himself after Jisung jokingly pointed out that a heavy accident would stop a train. It did accomplish your goal, except Han also blew up a section of the rail where the pieces of the blown-up car fell through and landed on the road, and the remaining cars of the train approaching the hole almost followed.

Jisung clapped his hands while he barely perked up in his seat. “Oh! Han was the one who did that, not me!”

Han clicked his tongue as his eyes rolled. “Shut up. It was your idea.”

You hummed in disagreement. “Actually, I was the one who told you to do that. You just executed the plan.”

“Your plan almost killed a whole train of people,” Jeongin chimed in with a slow emphasis on each word to garner attention, almost like he was talking to toddlers. He was extremely generous by leaving out any mentions of infrastructure damage and heavily injured citizens. Then, distractedly, he waved his hand toward the three of you. “Also, stop talking in threes like that.”

“Thank you!” That was Chan.

“Seungmin should be giving us information about what I planned for you three to do later today, and Felix will fill you in on the rest. I can be the only person doing damage control, and I always have,” he briefly put a hand to his chest with an award-winning smile before his smile turned annoyed, “but I am exhausted this week, so your reckless asses are only getting thirty percent of my help.”

Jisung sneered and looked away from the pulpit. “Don’t you just have to speak into a microphone during a broadcast to brainwash people?” “Yes,” Jeongin nodded, “which I can’t be bothered to do for the mess you–”

“Han,” Jisung interjected.

“I don’t care,” Jeongin retorted with an empty, wide-eyed smile. “Just do what I ask, appease the public, and we can get this public outrage over with.”

Chan snickered from the back. His feet shook on his knee, and his eyes gleamed a certain proudness in seeing Jeongin barking (or squirming out) orders at his young age. “Han destroyed a rail built in the middle of a bustling city during rush hour,” he said. “I think this goes far beyond mere public outrage.” 

Jeongin exhaled without any thoughts. Having something to say was the last thing he wanted to do, which was unfortunate because he was born to always have something to say. Whether it was about how he felt about a situation, an argumentative point crafted out of his want to be the conversation ender, or all the information from the internet Seungmin would mindlessly feed him as they shared a supposedly relaxing space. Jeongin always has something to say, and he was born to always tell them in a world where he could be inconvenienced by speech. 

“People will sweep it under the rug a few months later.” Jeongin waved his hand with narrowed eyes. “Seungmin predicted that it would.” 

“Everybody is different.”

“He figured you would say that too,” Jeongin muttered. “He told me to tell you, verbatim, people are only different as individuals. Many people running together turns them into a system that operates on a set of rules, which will make their actions predictable patterns, so stop coming for our decisions.” 

Chan shook his head with a shrug. “I’m not coming for you two. I’m just giving a word of advice, a different perspective.” 

“Unsolicited advice is unwanted and unnecessary.”

“It won’t be unsolicited if it is wanted and necessary.”

“Isn’t it tiring to talk so much, Chan?” Jeongin asked warmly and slowly to enunciate each syllable. “I know you would love to stop talking, so do that, Chan. Stop talking.”

Forced under Jeongin’s persuasion, Chan did not reply. He just smiled, his feet shaking more vigorously and his eyes staring harder at the front center of the cathedral. Those were signs of rebellion that people rarely showed Jeongin whenever he tried to charm his way into being benefitted. Chan’s jittery movement indicated that he knew Jeongin was putting him under a vocal spell and was unwillingly submitting to it. 

“Why would you engage in a verbal battle with someone who has psychic power? Jeongin doesn’t have a pride big enough not to cheat his way to a win,” you muttered as you peeked behind you. When Chan deadpanned at you, your brows raised in faux realization, and you grinned. “Oh, right. You would love to stop talking.” 

Jisung audibly laughed. He raised his hand to give you a firm high-five, which you barely returned. You thought a snarky remark stop being snarky if it’s shown its intended purpose, and Jisung’s high-five was doing that. He noticed your lack of enthusiasm and responded to it with furrowed brows. 

You and Han were getting on his nerves through all the petty reasons he could think about. It happened before you three were pulled from a typical day to the cathedral. From you hogging the sink to wash your face when he needed to spit out the toothpaste in his mouth, to Han refusing to get him the leftover cup of bubble fruit tea in the fridge even though Han was already in the kitchen area, to the both of you ganging up on him about his (admittedly accurate) violent tendencies, and just now you refused to give him a proper high-five.

Opening his mouth and ready to scream in defense of himself, Jisung was halted to a stop when one cathedral door was kicked open. Jeongin blinked in acknowledgment upon seeing Changbin huffing by the doorway. Chan could already tell who was there by the way the door was opened, as well as the little furious taps Jisung landed on your thigh to signal you and Han about who had arrived. You didn’t react when you saw Changbin, while Han frowned. 

Changbin’s main target was Jeongin, but the first thing he did was search for you three. He relaxed when he saw all of you turned to watch him by the door. Then he raised an arm to point toward the overturned Jesus Christ statue behind Jeongin. 

“Hey!” he hollered, his accusing finger shaking. He was clearly talking to you three. “Which one of you turned Jesus upside down?”

You and Han simultaneously pointed toward Jisung. The odd one out dropped his jaw, the nape of his neck turning sour and red at the collective accusation. He would not have cared if it had been anyone else instead of Changbin. But Jisung knew you were right that Changbin would wrestle his soul out of him for what was done to an abandoned statue of Christ, and despite being intimidated by Changbin, he still did it anyway. 

“Tattle tales!” Jisung lunged at you both with his palm. Neither of you attempted to dodge his attacks seriously. 

“We told you not to do it,” Han said. 

“We did,” you agreed.

Changbin rolled his eyes as his arm dropped to his side with a weak flail. Taking his hand and rubbing it over his face and hair, he grimaced at the sweat collected at the gaps of his fingers. Jeongin had instructed him to wait outside the cathedral until being given the cue to enter, but the burning sun outside made it feel as if he had been waiting for an unnecessary hour. Plus, the man in cuffs he was watching over outside was getting on his nerves for seemingly not rolling a drop of sweat despite being in suffocating clothing. 

This meeting could have been held somewhere indoors with air conditioning, but no, the cathedral was the choice! Standing under the sun with a fuse on his head as he waited for Jeongin’s dramatic entrance to be over was the choice! When he barged in for some cool shade, the first thing he found was that one of his children had done something sacrilegious! It was not a good day for his betterment-still-in-progress temper.

“Hey,” Changbin turned to Jeongin and nudged his head to gesture out the door, “he’s outside.”

“Get him in here,” Jeongin said. “We’re on a tight schedule.”

“I’m surprised you know that.”

“Why is everyone coming out of nowhere today?” Upon hearing Felix's voice, Chan threw an arm over the backrest of the pew. The shaking of his feet stopped when he saw the entering of an unfamiliar man, but he kept the leg propped over the other to maintain a comfortable sitting position.

Minho, still confused as ever since he got pulled out of his prison cell this morning, examined the cathedral motionlessly through the gaps in his long hair. 

He knew Jeongin, an overconfident piece of shit at a job he was supposed to be unqualified for. But since the boy was the reason he was out of prison in the first place, Minho had no other negative thoughts about him. Then there were Changbin and Felix, both of whom he had met today. Felix was docile and kept to himself because he could not be bothered, while Changbin was uptight and kept to himself because he had a job. 

The upside-down cross caught his eyes. He thought he heard someone arguing about it—his eyes shifted to the side to where you three were seated. All possibly Jeongin’s age, two of which were identical with drastic differences in stylistic choices, perhaps to make it easier for them to be distinguished from each other. The formula was familiar. He had heard passing noises from prison guards about the emergence of sentient powers in the form of people and scored in the nation’s top percentile on the scaling test. A pair of twins and a host, to be specific. You three fit those criteria to a T.

Minho had no idea you were going to be here. Your presence caused a strain on his escape plan. 

Initially, he only had Changbin to worry about. He calculated it during the silent car ride to the cathedral; quiet for him and Changbin, chatty for Felix and Jeongin. However, he had a notion that Felix was carrying on with the conversation out of politeness. Since Felix and Jeongin possessed passive abilities, the only threat in his vicinity was Changbin, whose ability he has yet to learn of. Minho reckoned he should worry more about Changbin’s physicality than the ability he possessed, though.

He planned that once the suppression cuff was removed, he would slap it onto Changbin and make a run for it. Jeongin’s power was descended from the God of Intelligence, but his power was verbal persuasion, meaning all Minho had to do to counter him was not to listen. He could do that. He was phenomenal at ignoring people. Whatever would happen next, things such as laying low or a change of identity, he would hash it out later. That was how he had planned to escape. But with you here, he wasn’t sure if escaping was a plausible chance. 

He may have to do more than he wanted to. Should he use the suppression cuffs on you and take a risky bet with Changbin? Or should he disable the muscle man and take a risk with you? 

Minho’s eyes scanned across you three to the pew behind you. His heart flinched, but his body remained motionless when he saw Chan was already staring pointedly back at him. Chan looked deep in thought but not too drowned in it that Minho could not feel the attention Chan had grounded on his face. Minho’s eye twitched when Chan smirked. Another passive ability? Could it be mind reading? Minho wished it was mind-reading. Chan looked to have a well-toned body, and he looked like he’s got some fight in him, but Minho had a lot of hands-on experience. He could take a risk. 

The real problem here were you and Changbin. 

“He’s plotted something,” Chan whispered after he leaned his torso forward to the three of you. 

Han turned his head but kept his eyes on Minho, who was ushered to sit on the pew before you. “Who is this?”

“I don’t know,” Chan shrugged, “I’ve never met him before.” 

“Is he why we are here today?” Jisung muttered, watching the back of Minho’s head. “He’s wearing a prison uniform.” 

“Oh…” you exhaled quietly. Cranking your neck to examine Minho's blue suit, you finally noticed the similarities. “I didn’t know they actually look like this.”

“What else would they look like?” Han chuckled.

You shrugged, your lips quirking down dismissively. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it’d actually look like what television shows us.” 

“I always thought they were orange jumpsuits,” Jisung added.

“I think they have orange jumpsuits in the West,” Han said. “I saw it on a thumbnail of an American show.” 

Minho barely raised his brows during the eavesdrop. You three were idiots.

“Jeongin,” Felix called from the side when he saw that Jeongin was about to dive into a prolonged introduction. He tapped on his wrist, causing Jeongin to sigh. “Seungmin has a lead on the guy. They should leave now.”  

“Of course. Nothing ever goes my way.” Jeongin rubbed his face. He then gestured toward Minho. “Take the cuffs off. We can’t be restraining him if we’re gonna ask him for a favor.” 

Changbin remained in his seat for a begrudging second. When Jeongin made no further clarifications or alternative requests, he sighed and got up. He kept the annoyed murmurs inside his head, complaining about taking orders from a university student with too much ego for his own good, and he dragged his feet near Minho, not noticing the slightly growing smirk hidden behind the prisoner’s long hair. 

The suppression cuffs are hand print registered instead of key-locked, so only a select few individuals could release the suppression cuffs. Patiently, Minho watched as Changbin warmed his palm against the curve of the cuff, dimming its golden gleam, and slid it over his hand. 

Before the cuff was taken off his hand entirely, Minho perked his head up to catch Changbin off guard. He closed his fingers around the cuff and attempted to snatch it away from Changbin’s grasp. Changbin quickly responded, closing a fist around the curve and tugging at it. Minho tilted his head, having anticipated the reaction, aimed his free hand at Changbin’s face for his attack to be blocked expectantly. Keeping Changbin’s hand around his fist, Minho shook the cuff off both their hands, caught it before it reached the ground, and slapped it around Changbin’s wrist. 

Changbin stumbled with his arm raised, his eyes searching for the cuff he could feel around his wrist. Taking Changbin’s processing time for granted, Minho whipped around and swiftly hopped on the back railing of the cathedral pew. He looked at you—no, not you, not the host. His eyes shifted to the side. Whichever one of the twins. The one who stood up in response, perhaps.

Han quickly grabbed Minho’s swung arm, missing his hand and ignoring the sharp sound of wind reverberating throughout the motion. Putting all his weight into the fall, Minho dropped from the pew and forced Han to stumble sideways for space to move. Minho landed on his feet and wasted no time shoving Han’s grip off his wrist. He doubled his punch, trying to aim for Han’s face again but decided against it last second. He realized something, an assumption that surfaced late from watching Han stand up with an arm extended to shield himself.

This could not have just been the entertaining rumors about you three’s relationship. Han was shielding you for more than just the feelings you two shared but also because you were a lifeline. You were the reason why Han and Jisung existed. If Minho wanted to copy your power, he should take it directly from the host, not the power themselves. The twins were of no use to him. You were.

Minho retracted his fist, missing Han’s face on purpose and causing the younger boy to furrow his brows. Turning swiftly, Minho’s eyes burned a hole in your face as he moved toward you. 

“Woah, not so fast,” Jisung said as he shot his arm out and tried to close his hand around Minho’s wrist.

Minho huffed with a sneer; he didn’t think touching you would be easy. Still, he hated that it was proven difficult. He ducked his arm, dodging Jisung by a scrape, but Jisung instinctively blocked Minho’s advance toward you by changing the course of his hand downward instead of forward. Laughing aloud, Jisung pulled back just enough for his hand to land on Minho’s elbow. He grasped onto Minho and yanked. 

“Who are you?” Jisung whispered when he came face to face with Minho, his hand tight over the prisoner’s shoulder. 

Minho raised his brows, not disregarding Jisung’s bone-breaking grip. He supposed he struck a nerve when targeting at you, but he still has no plans to answer the question despite being held captive. “Maybe you’ll do.”

“What?”

Jisung peered down at his hand, which Minho had put his palm over, holding onto him and nothing else. A numbing sensation slowly cast over the covered spot, and Minho could feel it too. But it wasn’t long before the numbing sensation turned into a sharp burn. It was a feeling he could not correctly describe with words. Even though the sensation lingered only on his palm, it felt as if his entire body was overwhelmed with pressure, like a pit of fire was growing and finding an exit from within his body. 

Minho held onto the heated pressure for a little before he snapped back with a curse. His fingers twitched uncontrollably until the feeling finished soothing over at a painstakingly slow rate. Jisung stepped back with a frown as he rubbed the back of his palm off Minho’s touch. He eyed Minho up and down, feeling uncertain and mildly offended that Minho flinched away from him like that. Were his hands rough? He swore he applied lotion after showers like you asked him to!

“Everyone, this is Lee Minho. He has a copy ability, like Kirby.” Jeongin introduced casually from the pulpit. Chan tilted his head and rolled his eyes up as fragments of recognition surfaced. Jeongin continued before he could chime in, “Minho, please sit down so we can proceed. And the three little pigs–“ He paused to nod at your frowns of distaste with a smile. “I would have all of you here for the recruiting process, but we have wasted too much time, so please, talk to Felix outside.”

Changbin, who was fidgeting with the suppression cuff, debated against placing it on the pew where it was within reach of Minho. As you stood up from your seat and trailed behind Han to leave, he tried shoving the cuff in his pants pocket only to find it too big to fit. He clicked his tongue and kept it in his hands; he wasn’t sure why he acted as if he couldn’t talk to you while holding something important, like a suppression cuff or boiling soup. 

“Hey, you three!”

Felix widened his eyes a fraction by the door and looked elsewhere. His impatience dissolved for a minute to allow Changbin the time to get whatever he needed to say across. He would just have to make a point for you three to rush to wherever Seungmin needed you to be.

“What?” you responded. When Changbin took a beat too long to answer, you visibly sighed. “Jeongin said we wasted too much time, so we’re probably in a rush–“

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” Jeongin pointed at you.

You rolled your eyes as Jisung threw a brief middle finger up in the air at his friend. Changbin, with unsurprised disappointment, eyed him from across. 

“You literally just said we’ve wasted too much time,” you said. 

“I didn’t say it so you can use it to get out of talking to Changbin,” Jeongin retorted, not forgetting to give Changbin an apologetic nod when the older man turned around to stare at him in shock. “Figure out your own excuse.”

“Why are you such a bitch today?” Han asked as a complaint.

“I’m a bitch every day. It’s concerning that I wasn’t a bitch enough to you for you to see that.”

“I’m gonna beat him up,” Jisung muttered. You patted his arm as discouragement. He pushed your hand away. 

Felix expected Jeongin to refrain from speaking up. He thought Jeongin didn't have to do it at all because that served no purpose other than interrupting Changbin and delaying your work even longer. He stepped forward by the door, ready to call out for your attention, but immediately stopped again when he caught Changbin raising his arm. He stepped back again, kindly letting the man have his moment. 

“Do you three want to drop by later for dinner?” Changbin asked. “I attended a high school reunion party the other day and still have a lot of leftovers.”

You, Jisung, and Han shared a few glances. The silence was deafening, and watching Changbin stand awkwardly in waiting gave Chan the urge to lighten the mood. But he was focused on watching Minho’s back, discreetly observing the changing gleams in Minho’s half-covered eye as he curiously turned around to pay attention to the painfully forced conversation. Chan wasn’t sure why he had a hunch, but he predicted that if all went well, Minho would soon shield Changbin’s fatherly heart the way Felix had been, only in very different ways.

Nobody in this investigation unit was a stranger to the strained relationship Changbin has with the three of you. Seungmin and Jeongin have read each of your profiles detailing necessary information and experiences; Chan and Felix talked to Changbin a bit; Hyunjin was a close friend of you three, so he’s got the scope of every complaint you’ve had for your foster dad. And, of course, everyone has witnessed firsthand how you guys interacted with each other, which has never been smooth sailing. 

Chan understood Changbin from an adult standpoint and suspected that Minho would too. But Felix saw Changbin from a child’s point of view—an emotionally healthy child, to clarify, and perhaps as someone who was projecting his wishes onto you three as well. Felix’s family lived overseas so he couldn’t see them as frequently as he hoped. The three of you reminded him of his siblings from home, and your relationship with Changbin reminded him of his own. 

Standing in the face of a past legal guardian trying his best to reconnect with his children after passively harming them made him sympathetic, and seeing Changbin get rejected with such foul manners was upsetting. Felix wanted to say he would have reacted differently and would have been kinder, but he could never understand. He could never stand in your shoes. He could not begin to imagine, so he had no say in this. He only understood the value of having family near when he couldn’t, and he wished you three were nicer. 

“We have never dropped by for dinner,” Han said with a faint shrug. “We’re not gonna start doing it now.”

“Oh! You should divide the portions up,” Jisung said as he made a cutting motion with his hands. “You can go days without having to spend money on food!”

“Yeah, you should do that!” you said in agreement. “It helps you eat less too. You’re packing some extra weight!”

Jisung punched your arm with laughter. As he turned around to follow you and Han to the door, he paused in realization and snapped his finger. “Oh, right!” he exclaimed. “Sorry about Jesus!”

Felix pursed his lips as you three walked past the door he held open. He looked at Changbin briefly, who smiled at his pitiful glance. Without further ado, Felix turned and left the cathedral with you.

The door shut behind him loudly, leaving the only trace of light shining on Jeongin, who maintained a respectful minute of silence before he began talking again. Changbin quietly headed to the pew Minho was seated at and sat down at a spot where their knees would not touch.

Changbin kept his gaze forward but leaned down enough to rest his elbows on his thighs. He crossed his fingers, his shoulders exhaling for him. Minho was observing his movements. 

“I don’t care what decision you make today,” Changbin whispered, his voice low and firm. He showed the suppression cuff from beneath his interlaced fingers and placed it softly on the space between him and Minho. “But do not go after those three ever again.”

Minho remained silent. He understood Changbin did not warn him for his own good, even though it was clear that you three could take care of yourselves against him just fine. It was not a warning to save him from you three. It was to keep him from the man himself. 

“Okay, we are settling down once and for all.” Jeongin leaned his arms against the pulpit. 

“I do apologize for the emergency meeting, but we–well, Seungmin has suddenly thrown us into a complicated mess yesterday when he found a lead on a man associated with the recent, and unfortunately frequent, occurrences of missing person cases. His best guess right now is that all of the reported cases are connected to one person, and a way bigger operation is happening under our nose, under everyone’s noses, whatnot.” 

Jeongin stood up straight to give himself an unnecessary pause. He was having difficulty remembering what Seungmin rambled about because he was busy memorizing appropriate answers to the press conference. 

“He hasn’t found the person yet, but he’s got a lead on someone associated with them. I have the three dispatched to get them just now, which reminds me–“ He pointed at Chan. “Make sure to check your phone. I don’t know how long the three stooges will take to catch the man, but they will notify you once they do. Get in touch with Hyunjin for more information, but you’re in charge of interrogation at the department building.”

“Wait, wouldn’t you be the better option?” Chan scooted forward, a questioning smirk on his face. “A guy like that wouldn’t just answer questions, and I’m no longer prone to violence.”

“Stop working out. Maybe I’ll believe you!” Jeongin grinned sarcastically before letting his face fall flat. “But no. I’m going to be exhausted after the press conference, and I want to use the rest of my energy to study for my finals!”

Changbin blinked incredulously at Jeongin. “Wait, hold on,” he held a hand up hesitantly, “doesn’t that mean those three also have finals? They should be studying!”

“Yes, but they take the exams together, which would make it easier for them.”

“Their high school transcripts argue otherwise.”

“They enrolled into a prestigious private high school with snobby children whose one-week allowance can hire them a full-time grade A tutor, not because they are smart but because they are strong,” Jeongin said as he rubbed his eyes. With a bang, he dropped his hand on the pulpit's surface and looked at Changbin. “They also got stuck with an adult who joined the military because his grades were terrible, so I don’t blame them for having shitty high school transcripts.”

Chan gave a hearty round of applause. He did not mind it when Changbin shoved off his comforting (demeaning) pat on the shoulder. 

“Good? Not good? We are moving on!” Jeongin clapped once. “Now, Lee Minho.”

Minho looked up with one brow raised. He had been listening intently to what everybody was saying, even the useless conversations slapped between valuable information Jeongin was telling. Something about what Jeongin said piqued his interest; it had something to do with what he overheard in prison, but he decided not to say anything yet. He wanted to hear about what Jeongin had planned for him first. 

“As I mentioned, the unit is officially involved with a complicated case. We will still be reporting back to the head of the department, but we will also have to report a reasonable amount of information we can gather to the other investigation teams that have been working on this case for a while and have gotten little to no leads on anything,” Jeongin said. “Because of this, I have decided to expand our team by one additional member–“ He nodded at Minho. “This is where he comes in.”

Changbin squinted his eyes, processing the information rather slowly because of how incredibly ridiculous it sounded. He just escorted Minho out of prison, and he knew Jeongin knew that because it was his order. But recruiting a prisoner who has done who-knows-what to get him sentenced to life in prison was outrageous. He could barely accept Chan’s recruitment when it happened, and all Chan did were fraudulent activities. 

“To give a brief introduction, we are an independent investigation team operating under the Department of Justice. There are currently nine of us, two of which are an extension of one person–the twins and their host, [Name]. You just tried to copy their power, which, pro tip, do not try again.” Jeongin waved his hand in the air, figuring out the shortest reason that doubled to explain why Minho reacted the way he did when he tried to use his power on Jisung. “A God died and turned into the twins, so each holds half of a full God’s power.”

Minho could not help but breathe out a scoff of acknowledgment. 

No wonder you three were kept under watchful eyes. Putting you under the same roof as a selected military agent somehow felt reasonable. But claiming you three only scored within the nation’s top percentile in the power scaling test should cause it to lose all its credibility. The standardized metric was created based on the average output of a regular citizen, which, if disregarding other assets, would mean it was based on only a fraction of one God’s power. Possessing fifty percent of one should break the scoring system. 

The nation’s top one percent was a label for people to make sense of the twins’ existence, not an accurate representation of their strength. Jeongin was right to advise Minho against using his copy ability on you again—there was a reason why the twins have to exist. His human body would never be able to hold an entire God. He was lucky to let go when he felt the pressure, and knowing that the power did not immediately kill him was informative.

“Well,” Minho muttered. “I guess they won’t be in too much trouble, after all.”

“What do you mean?” Jeongin asked.

Minho looked at him through the gaps in his hair, his eyes distant but focused. “Did you research who your friend may have gotten a lead on?”

“It’s not my job to do that, but Felix might know something.” 

“My cellmate was a talkative guy,” Minho said with a shrug. “I could never get him to shut up. He keeps talking and talking. At some point, when I started to listen to him, I realized he was boasting about something. Events, accomplishments, crimes that were happening outside that he was not directly involved with but somehow felt proud of.”

Felix knocked on the cathedral door and opened it. He kept quiet when he realized Minho was speaking, but the creak of the door was loud enough to cover up Minho’s voice just enough for him to miss what was uttered. 

“Wait, hold on,” Changbin held his hand out as a request to pause, “what are you trying to say?”

Minho ignored him. He turned around to look at Felix and asked, “Where did you send the three to?”

Felix looked around with wide eyes. He reached two fingers to his neck and scratched at the spot where he could feel his palpitating vein. “Huh? I’m–what’s going on?”

“Answer the question, Felix,” Changbin demanded. 

“Seungmin said there was an entrance in the MH market kept in one of the stalls that led directly underground. It’s an elaborate system, and there is no map, so he told me to tell them to sniff out a guy who looks like he’s a big deal and invite him for an interrogation.”

The Magic Hub market—just its name was lousy news enough for Changbin because of its notorious reputation, not to mention the newfound knowledge of it having a renovated underground sewage system that flew entirely off the radar. Changbin shook his head. He never understood what Seungmin was planning, but he should have been the one to go there, not you three. Not even for what Jeongin claimed to be damage control for what Han did at the metro station last week. 

“You sent two kids and their fragile lifeline to invite a branch head of a long-standing crime syndicate to an interrogation that will expose their operation,” Minho spoke monotonously. 

“Which means?” Jeongin prompted.

“Which means?” Minho repeated with strong emphasis on each word. The corner of his eye twitched. “You can’t put two and two together, dipshit?”

“Which means bad news,” Chan said, making it known that he was still present. His eyes were unreadable, and his movement seemed fidgety. He moved up his seat so he could stand near Minho. “A crime syndicate… I think I know who he’s talking about.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They may be the same people who hired me to pose as a high school teacher so I can steal the twins, so whoever those three are going to, they’re not gonna be fighting strangers.”

Chan got off the wrong foot with all of you, especially with the twins. Cozying up to you and helping you through being bullied in your new school while you were placed in suppression cuffs was a ploy to slap a thief’s tool onto the twins. Alas, he should have thought it through better than agreeing to steal powers with a mind of their own. The twins broke out of the thief’s box and attempted to kill Chan, but eventually, they only turned him into the faculty. The only reason why he was still alive now was because he was prosecuted and kept safe in prison. 

If he was roaming free, failing a job could only mean death. But that past mattered not at the moment.

“Minho is right. They’re fighting people who had years to gather information and plan for what they are capable of,” Chan said. “They haven’t initiated anything again after I failed, though.”

“Sending them to their doorstep is suicide,” Minho said. “Do you even know who the head of the branch is?” 

“You’ve got something bad to say,” Jeongin said. 

“I fucking do. Get used to it if you want to recruit me as a team member,” Minho said with a smirk. “Does any of you read the news?” 

“Not my favorite pastime,” Changbin replied. 

Felix raised his hand timidly. He was trying to shake off the feeling that he had done something wrong even when he was only following orders. “I do.”

“We are not the only ones going after this organization. A few months ago, there was news about a special agent possessing power from the God of Ruination.” Minho sniffed when he saw the recognition on Felix’s face. “You know.”

“I know a little, yes. They can kill anything or anyone as long as they sacrifice something in return, and whatever they sacrifice has to be of equal value to what they are killing. We would have recruited them if they weren’t already working for an agency,” Felix said. “They were put on emergency leave after a failed mission. I think they almost died just to end up missing their target by a mark.”

Felix heaved a deep sigh, trying to recall precisely what he had read about on the news. He couldn’t be sure what he said because there had been rumors about the news broadcast being misguided to report false information. People were talking about the case on various discussion forums when it happened because of how unbelievable the prosecution process was. But it wasn’t the sentencing that received a skeptical outcry. It was the man who was prosecuted. The man was a nobody. Not an underdog, just a nobody. The only way he could be charged for almost killing a special agent was when he was covering for someone else, someone important.

“My cellmate who kept talking was the one who got framed for what happened to that agent,” Minho said. “He was covering for his boss, the man who survived a power that was supposed to be able to kill anyone.” He shifted his weight against the hard chair and side-eyed Changbin. “Now your kids are going after him.”

“I hate to say this, but if they’ve made plans to kidnap the twins before, they are not gonna take this second chance for granted,” Minho added as he leaned against the back of the pew. He closed his eyes and hummed solemnly. “Sending a powerless con artist to interrogate the man alone is also suicide, by the way. I would volunteer, but this unit feels like a mess, so I’m not sure about working with you people.”

“Yang Jeongin!” 

Changbin was right. It should have been him. He should have gotten the job, or at least he should have been asked to tag along as backup. Sharply, he turned to glare at Jeongin, who was still cluelessly processing the newfound information. Jeongin caught his rejecting eyes and flinched in response. An anger burning inside Changbin was filled with hatred, blame, and guilt. 

Jeongin should have taken his role seriously. He would not have dispatched you three to a madman if he did. He and Seungmin should have asked for a second opinion regarding his decisions. Ignorant, busy young adults taking up the responsibility for others’ livelihood? This should have never happened. But how could any of them possibly anticipate this turn of events? Not one person questioned this. Not Jeongin, Seungmin, Felix, Hyunjin, and definitely not you three, who have always come home unscathed. Jeongin sincerely thought this wouldn’t be a problem and was the best chance to cover up the metro station damage. 

Jeongin would never send his friends to die on purpose. This was a genuine mistake.

Changbin sighed. He couldn’t even be angry in peace. Rubbing his wrist, he stared at the floor to concentrate on the self-induced debate in his head. He spared not another glance at anyone when he straightened himself and walked out of the cathedral. Minho followed Changbin’s back with his eyes, having held himself back from making any comments from the mere intimidating sound of Changbin’s steps. 

Felix clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from clattering. He only realized his fingers displayed light tremors when he hastily took his phone out of his jean pocket. Ignoring the shaky screen, he immediately shot you multiple texts to poorly explain the situation and to urge you and the twins to turn around. He looked up between texts, witnessing Jeongin’s stable state by the pulpit, and licked his lower lip. 

“It’s not your fault, Jeongin,” Chan said, his steps toward the boy tentative. 

“Nobody can be faulted here because nothing will happen to them!” Felix managed out with forced laughter. “No mistakes were made!”

“Look, I’m sorry that this is all very sudden, but keep your thoughts in your head. Okay?” Chan requested lowly after he neared Jeongin. “You know what happens when you say things out loud.”

Jeongin knew, which made it all the more suffocating for him. Ever since growing up, any negative thoughts—his worries, anger, and anxiety—were pushed to the back corner of his mind because of his gifted verbal influence. He could control his power of persuasion for the most part, but negative feelings were often unpredictable due to their robust nature. If he says it out loud and means it, it will happen. If he talked about a worrisome future, it would turn out exactly as he worried it to be. Even if he was desperately willing to talk about his feelings, he could not.

Do not say he made a mistake. Do not say he was worried. Do not say he should have made a better decision. Do not say someone should help, just in case. Do not say anything. He might have sent his friends on a suicide mission, and he cannot speak about his feelings. 

“Minho.” Say nothing of it. “We will not be able to reduce your sentence, but if you work for us, you get out of prison. Not free, but out of it, nonetheless.” 

Minho has nothing snarky to say to Jeongin. Even though the team felt unorganized, he thought anything would be better than behind bars, so he only nodded. “Sure.” 

Jeongin looked ahead at the cathedral, his eyes grazing past Felix.

Do not say anything. 

Jisung scrunched his nose up and swung his hand before his face to waft off the sewage smell. He fidgeted about aimlessly; tapping his feet impatiently against the floor, ruffling his hair and wiping the oil off the bridge of his nose, rolling his hoodie sleeves up because his skin felt suffocated and rolling them back down immediately because he hated the thought of sewage air hitting against his skin. He let out a frustrated yell when Han closed the manhole. 

“Jeongin did this on purpose! He wants us smelling like sewage rats!” Jisung complained. “When we’re done with this, the first thing I’m doing when I see him is punch his teeth in!”

“I don’t think Jeongin even knows where he is sending us to,” you pointed out as you pinched Jisung’s nose to urge him to simply stop smelling the area. You held on despite his playful protests. “I bet Seungmin had a say in this decision.”

“I’ll punch him too!” Jisung said, his voice coming out nasally. When he finally got your fingers off his nose, he punched the air with his fists and yelled, “It smells disgusting down here!”

Han groaned in annoyance at the fit his brother was throwing. The way Jisung’s whiny voice echoed off the spacious tunnels made him even harder to ignore. “Stop whining,” he said. “The sooner we find the man, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Like I don’t know that,” Jisung slurred in a high-pitched voice. He pulled a face by frowning with exaggeration. “Felix gave us nothing to work with!”

“I’m sure Seungmin will send us something once he finds more information,” Han suggested doubtfully.

“There’s no service down here. I checked,” Jisung said with a pat on his pocket. “Which probably means that someone has been doing some tinkering down here.”

“Felix mentioned that this is related to the recent missing cases, right?” you said with crossed arms as you peeked over a corner to find a never-ending tunnel identical to the ones you could see from every direction. You looked down at your feet briefly, noticing the dark spots on your white shoes and letting your eyes trail along the floor, then you looked back up at the twins. “Come here, you guys.”

“He did say that, but I’m gonna bet on it being a speculation,” Han murmured as he leaned over your head to see what you were looking at. “Maybe all the cases are associated with this man, but saying this man is kidnapping all these people under the order of someone with a higher authority feels like a stretch to me. It could just be one maniac doing all of this on his own.”

“Why are we thinking so much about it? Let them do all the thinking. We can just do the punching,” Jisung said with a shrug. 

“Don’t say ‘we,’ you clearly aren’t thinking about anything,” Han joked lowly. 

“Actually, I was thinking about something. I was thinking about a way to get us out of here quicker.” Jisung slapped the back of Han’s head and continued to do so a few more times when Han complained with low, strangled noises paired with a glare that Jisung did not find threatening. “We should blow holes through the walls. He has got to be in here somewhere.”

You furrowed your brows in disagreement. “The market will collapse.”

“I said blow holes through the tunnel walls, not open a gaping hole on the roof,” Jisung clarified as-a-matter-of-factly.

“The tunnel walls are connected to the roof,” you waved your arms around, “which means one mistake and the whole market collapse on us!”

“Then let’s not make any mistake.” Jisung shrugged. 

“Was that what Han thought when he blew up the metro rails?”

Han let his jaw drop from the side. He was paying mild attention to the back-and-forth between you and Jisung. 

If he has to listen to you two argue about unimportant things, he would have to grant ownership of his hearing to you both. He got good at tuning you out and minding his business. He could do that exceptionally at home, where despite the close vicinity you three were bound to be in, ignoring you two was an ability indissoluble. But here, in the underground sewage system, he had nothing to do but listen. Not once has he chimed in, yet somehow he was roped into the conversation. 

“That was uncalled for,” Han said, a hand pressed firmly over his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Han, but–“ You sighed. “You did cause a lot of collateral damage for someone who could be no more than a petty thief.”

“He wouldn’t be on the BOLO list if people thought he was just stealing invaluable things,” Han argued. 

“No, I think people will complain about anything when they realize that someone is listening,” Jisung said softly, his hair bouncing with his faint nods. “Give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile. The inch almost blew them up in a metro train–“ He made an explosive sound effect and mimicked a bomb exploding with his hands. “They’ll still take the mile!”

“Don’t say they should have died, even to make a point,” Han cut his twin off with a grimace.

“I’m not heartless. I wasn’t going to.” Jisung shrugged. “I was just thinking about it.” 

You audibly gagged at Jisung’s response. 

You never forget how cruel Jisung could be, even though he was superior to Han in terms of being empathetic. People always found him more approachable; he was outgoing, friendly, and excellent at accurately vocalizing other people’s feelings for them. You formed the theory that Jisung seemed to have an innate ability to put himself in others’ shoes due to his half of the power leaning towards a brighter, more divine magic. If only he acted on those emotional skills, then some things he says and does would be less outrageous. 

“You are–” You paused to sigh, not looking at Jisung. “Unbelievable.”

“I actually don’t take that as a compliment from you.”

“Good, I wasn’t being positive,” you mindlessly said as you scooted closer to the corner. You beckoned the two to stay close to you and pointed down the tunnel. “There is less water on the ground going that way.” 

“Felix said this sewage system got turned into an elaborate hideout, right?” you continued as you turned around to face the twins. “Unless that guy has a thing for smelling rotten feet, wherever in this place he decided to turn into some criminal laboratory, he will probably drain out the water.” 

“I bet he just likes sewage smell,” Jisung sneered under his breath. 

Han raised his brows in acknowledgment of what you said. It would make sense, although he doubted how presentable a criminal hideout has to be. But seeing the expected level of water in this place, not draining them would make it a hassle for anyone to navigate, so it made sense to get rid of the water if one wanted to turn this place remotely into a secret working spot. 

 “So we follow dry grounds.” Han nodded. 

“It’s just an assumption, but it’s an objective,” you said. “We can go from there.” 

Jisung already moved ahead of you both, jogging ahead to an intersection to look for a tunnel with lesser water on the ground. His head whipped around in all four directions before he hollered with his arm pointed outward. You and Han followed his lead without question as the plan was straightforward, and Han kept note of possible tunnel directions you three could take that also had sewage water drained out for future backtracking. 

At some point, when the water was drained to leave only puddles on the floor, Jisung hopped off the restricting side road and ran about freely. You didn’t say much about the sewage water he carelessly splashed against his shoes and ankle socks when he stomped on the water, but you planned to make exaggerated sighs around the apartment when you do end up cleaning the shoes for him. 

“I feel like we’re going around in circles,” you said after you stopped walking. 

Jisung pursed his lips into a frown that could double as a comedic smile. “How would you know? Everywhere looks the same. We could be making progress.”

“Walking isn’t progress, Jisung,” you heaved out. 

“Well…,” he played with his fingers, “what if I just blow one small hole in one of these walls?”

He has already decided that he would. Asking you for permission was a performative courtesy. He ignored your many protests with a smile and continuous reassurance that he wouldn’t mess things up like last time. Then he argued that the infrastructure damage could not be too severe if all he did was destroy one wall and that it didn’t make sense for the entire tunnel system to collapse just because one wall had fallen. As he placed his hand on the wall, he further joked about how hilarious it would be if he blew a hole and people were waiting on the other side.

“Jisung!” 

An explosion muffled your voice, then by the falling of concrete and debris. Jisung uncovered his face and fanned his hand around to wave away the fog. His eyes rolled upward in anticipation, and when nothing else terrible happened, he pumped his fist silently to celebrate. He turned around to face you and Han, more than ready to boast about how he was right all along, and you should have let him blow this place up since the beginning, but he paused when he saw you both staring ahead at the broken wall. 

There were people on the other side, just not waiting. Over on the other side of the wall stood two men, just enough players for the card game you saw abandoned on the foldable square table propped around the corner. They were both staring at you, which gave you the indication that Jisung and Han were invisible to them; there were no cues for Jisung to appear, and Han likely reacted before the explosion to conceal himself. 

“Oh, hello.” you greeted with widened eyes and a forced giggle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

They looked at you skeptically, but neither gave off a feeling of hostility. Judging by their attire and choice of activity to pass the time, they were likely throwaways working under this branch of the criminal organization. You thought you could test your luck with getting information out of them; nothing in detail, just some information on where their boss was located within this elaborate sewage system. But that may risk you not only getting no valuable intel from them but also being exposed that you were up to no good. Besides, there could be more groups stationed all over this place. Getting exposed would be a hassle. 

“Um…,” you kicked your feet and pointed a finger upward, “I fell down here and got lost. Do you mind showing me the way out?”

Jisung tilted his head as scoffs of disagreement shoved past his lips. He thought you would have a better plan, such as straightforwardly asking for directions to the big man. If you were afraid of suspicion, you could have easily pretended to be a foreign collaborator recently arriving in the country, given that a criminal operation was happening. There was no way these lackeys would know every person their boss kept in contact with and how everything operates, so all you really needed was a confident act, which you did not deliver.

“How did you get out of your suppression cuff?” 

You rubbed the back of your neck and stared ahead at the man who spoke. “What?”

“You, go check on the other ones, see if any of them escaped.” He turned around and gestured to his colleague, who hurriedly scurried away. He clicked his tongue when his attention was back on you. “You’re a sneaky one. I don’t remember seeing your face when you lot got dropped here. I’m not sure what you’re planning, but trust me when I say things will go much easier if you just behave.”

You stumbled back a few steps once the realization hit that he may be discussing the missing cases you’ve been reading about on the news. 

Seungmin’s speculation and what he just told you was a coincidence good enough for you to believe in your computer nerd of a friend. If it was true, there were a group of kidnappees here waiting to be dealt with—was it human trafficking? It was the thing you could think of. But would trafficking elders nearing their deathbeds be worth anything in this industry? That was a peculiar deviation from what you always hear about. Yet, why else would someone kidnap groups of people? It wasn’t a case of infatuation! Was it to start a cult? There were people down here. Some of them may be the missing ones!

The subtlety of your anxiety did not go unnoticed. Jisung observed the light tremors in your delayed response rate, your brain halting to constant stops as unfortunate thoughts popped into your head. You three have been at this job for two years already, which made dealing with terrible people a common occurrence. But, usually, by the time you three were assigned to catch someone, there was already ample information on who they were and what they had done. This case was on a much larger scale than you were used to. Coming face-to-face with it happening caught you off guard. 

You squealed when you felt touched, your thoughts coming to a halt. 

“Focus,” Han whispered into your ear as he gently pushed at the small of your back. “Follow him. He might lead us somewhere.” 

You curtly nodded without peeling your eyes off the men standing before you. You decided not to move an inch, heeding the advice to behave. You doubted they would be taking you to see their boss, but you figured if you were thrown somewhere with the rest of those who were kidnapped, you could at least break them out of this place so you could have something to report back to the team. 

Or at least you thought you could. Your heart rate picked up when you saw the gleaming suppression cuff the man hesitantly took out of his pocket. He looked behind him at his colleagues as if to ask for advice, weighing the cuff in his hand. 

You had first-hand experience during high school when you were put on suppression cuffs as punishment for Han’s use of excessive force against a student on the first day. You remembered vividly how horrible the experience was. 

Most people described the effect of the suppression cuff as annoying. People never enjoyed having a constant taken away. But the results were exceptionally terrible to you because they went beyond merely restricting your use of powers. 

Jisung and Han would be temporarily erased from existence when you put on suppression cuffs; the keyword was that there were two—one for Jisung and one for Han. The cuffs themselves were not invented to extract a toll on people. However, Jisung and Han were born as an extension of you. While not developed in the same womb (the twins began as infants), the unknown God split and reattached the umbilical cord between you and the twins as a symbol of bodily and soulful attachment. The twins’ health and strength positively correlate with yours; if both twins die, you die with them. 

You three were born to be together, always and forever. 

Losing any of one you was the equivalent of losing a limb, an organ, a part of yourself. Suppressing their existence creates not only emotional turmoil but also gradual physiological deterioration that persists just before the point of death. 

Besides those side effects, this was not the time for the twins to be put on restrictions. Additional to being an extension of yourself, the twins were your source of power. The unknown God gave all of its power for you to use; the only reason why you could not personally use it was that a human body was too fragile, hence the birth of the twins. Without them, you were as good as being powerless, which was no good at all in this context.

Your immediate response of drawing back earned you an impatient frown. He persisted, and you would admire his effort not to resort to drastic measures if you weren’t feeling so anxious. He was probably expecting you to use your power, which, if he assumed was how you blew up a hole in the wall, was something he had to look out for. However, as his patience wore thin after it was made abundantly clear that you would not cooperate, he raised his arm slowly as if charging up, then instead of hitting you as you expected, he clamped it around your wrist.

His palm was scorching hot. It was the same sensation as when you accidentally bumped your forearm against the oven rack while taking out the tray of cookies you were baking with Hyunjin at his home, except you weren’t allowed to flinch away this time. You gasped in pain, your fingers croaking as you tried to snatch your hand away from his grip. The burn on his palm was quick to fade when the man spared a glance behind your shoulders between putting the cuff on you, and immediately he saw Jisung and Han hovering over your now shrunken figure. 

“Twin–twins.” he stuttered under his breath, elements of recognition slowly trickling into his brain. He released you so he could take a few strides backward, and his eyes uncontrollably followed Jisung’s hand that reached to cradle your burnt skin. 

“[Name], this is a second-degree burn,” Jisung said after examining the injury. 

“I know,” you groaned out.

“Okay,” he said, his voice calm as a motionless pond. He disregarded the attitude you gave him. “So let me take it. I can endure it better than you. Also, if we’re gonna fight, we need you in tip-top shape. Helps me heal faster than usual too.” 

You pursed your lips together. You always hated this. 

Han was out of the question regarding any abilities that could aid others; the foundation of his powers was, for lack of a better word, self-centeredness. Anything good that he can do, such as healing, he can only use it on himself. Jisung, on the other hand, can only heal others. But he must do it as a self-sacrifice, an angelic symbolism. He has to take the pain from others. Jisung’s self-healing ability fared much worse than Han's but arguably better than humans, meaning the pain would linger if not treated properly. Still, he would eventually return to his original shape.

Since Jisung has impressive physical durability, he never minded taking pain from you and, occasionally, his friends. He has been assigned the role of a healer since you were grown enough to start scraping your knees through reckless chasing. You did not bother with this gentle exchange until high school, specifically when you were put on suppression cuffs and bullied without the twins’ presence. It had been an eye-opening experience for you in the worst way possible. 

Disregarding the bullying (which vaguely tired down when Hyunjin befriended you), what your schoolmates said to be horrible and insensitive to you was right. You were useless without them. You have not learned to stand up for yourself because you never had to. You only knew how to be friendly, kind, and agreeable so your peers would stop treating you with high caution. You molded yourself after the desire to be social and make friends, and your privilege was that you never had to worry about being in danger because you always had the twins around. They made you soft. They made you easy to hurt. 

The suppression cuffs were taken off after school every day. For the earlier days of the punishment week, Jisung would sit by you on the floor of your shared bedroom and take the bruises from your body. Colliding with the metal lockers, pushed to the brick wall, being shoved and kicked around—nothing on the face for the teachers to notice, everything under clothing to be hidden from plain sight. Even if the teachers knew, you doubted anyone would do anything anyway. You three already knew you were in the private school the same way an animal in the zoo was placed on a stage to perform. You were there to be watched, first and foremost, not to receive an education. 

You figured you should handle it on your own. You wanted to tank it as proof to yourself, more than anyone else, that you do not have to rely on the twins for everything. You stopped letting Jisung heal you and requested that they leave the students alone once punishment week was over. You needed to prove yourself to be useful and durable. You didn’t ‘need your brothers to do everything for you!’ Jisung respected your wishes. But that was after you gave him a week-long silent treatment after he decided to heal you during your sleep without permission. 

“How’s their arm?” Han asked as he sneaked a peek at your injury. The developing burn was gone and transferred to a reddening spot on Jisung’s skin. You gave in due to the circumstance; if this had happened at home, you would have persisted in suffering through it. Han did not think much of it. He was glad that you wouldn’t be in pain anymore. 

Jisung had rolled up his sleeve to give the injury air. The stinging pain barely bothered him. As you two approached Han, he ushered you behind him subtly and kept a firm grip on your hand in case of emergency. Looking ahead to find the men precisely where they were before he stopped paying attention, he lightly chuckled and shook his finger in their direction. “What’s going on? Is he frozen?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t moved,” Han replied. 

“I think he recognized us,” you said as you pushed your head between their arms to get a better look at the men. “He did call you two twins.”

“That’s because we are,” Han said with a deadpan. You clicked your tongue and slapped his back just strong enough to make him flinch away with a playful smirk. 

"It doesn't seem like he’s going to do anything. Not to you two, at least," you clarified what you meant. "What if we ask him where his boss is?”

“He's not going to sell his people out like that. Let alone the head of an organization!" Han exclaimed in a whisper, with a disbelieving huff flying out his mouth a beat after the words fell that you thought were unnecessary. 

Jisung hummed with a tilt of his head. He observed the three men standing with their guard up but hadn't moved an inch still. There wasn't much to be analyzed—plain clothes, a table with a card game, one suppression cuff, a fire-type ability, and someone who left to check on the kidnappees. Jisung thought the other person might have run off to notify others of intruders, but as far as he knew, they only saw you and likely did not process you as a threat. 

"He might if we give him a reason to," he muttered as he took the initiative to approach the group of lackeys.

The man glanced down at Jisung's burnt skin and up at his calm face. It was made clear that scorching heat would not bother Jisung. He didn't think it would anyway if the rumors about the twins he heard were true. It was moving like the rumors were accurate, which would pose a huge problem. This was not about him losing miserably at a match with the twins. That part has been crystal clear since the news released their power scale scores to the public. This was about the deliberate operation to steal the twins again, which had been ordered to jump into action at any given chance they could get.

A lot has changed since the first theft operation to take the twins, which Chan was involved in. It had been a disaster. The gadget—The Steal Box—used to host stolen powers broke open shortly after the twins were stuffed inside the box. At that time, the lesson learned was that stealing power in the form of individuals capable of making decisions is inefficient because it will escape and return to its owner. An additional lesson learned was that the thieving gadget may have broken due to its inadequacy in storing a lot of energy at once. Like suppression cuffs, the Steal Box breaks when used on the twins directly. 

The renewed operation plan changed accordingly to what went wrong in the first one. The Steal Box was modified to be stronger than the one approved by the government and marketed to the public. But, most importantly, seconds after getting the twins inside the box, someone has to put you on two suppression cuffs to prevent them from breaking out. You would be released from the cuffs when the boss saw fit to do so, but it was never revealed what the desired circumstance to do that was. There was no need for anyone to know what the head of the branch wanted with the twins. The only thing anybody has to know was that the plan starts at any given chance, which was now. 

"You want to meet the boss?”

Jisung pursed his lips into a downward smile and nodded. "Yeah. Do you know where he is?"

“For what?” 

You pushed past the twins so you could talk to the man. You leveled him with a stare as you hid your arms behind your back. “Just to talk.” 

“Just to talk?” he mimicked your higher-pitched, youthful voice, then he kept a sneer on his face that you weren’t sure came from a general disregard people have for the young, or a personal grudge. “Government agents coming all the way down here to a criminal hideout is not going to be here just to talk. What do you guys want?”

“You have some nerve threatening us,” Han said.

“I’m not threatening you. I’m being an asshole. You wouldn’t know someone is being a bitch if they did it to your face.”

You pursed your lips to hold back a chuckle that Jisung heartily released from his chest. There was no distinction between threatening someone and being an asshole. It was funny because Jeongin said something similar before sending you three off to the sewage system, and perhaps the man spoke some truth about how Han has a hard time telling if people were being genuinely mean. Han based a lot of others’ intentions and actions on his feelings—if he was offended, then they must be horrible; if he wasn’t offended, then they must be neutral. The kick was that he was primarily undramatic about things. 

“We’re here because we suspect that your boss has something to do with the recent missing cases,” you clarified before pointing a finger toward the direction his colleague had run off to minutes ago. “Which makes it interesting that you told your friend to check on the kidnappees.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“It’s a shitty job!” Jisung commented with a boastful smile as if he had done something heroic by verbalizing how bad holding innocent people hostage is. He pulled back his head and grimaced when you gave him a nod of pitiful approval. 

“I know you are doing your job, which is why I strongly advise you to take us to your boss,” you said with a snap of your fingers. “Don’t tank a fall for someone who doesn’t care about you. It’s not a noble thing to do.”

Your heart thumped as you watched the hesitant man intently. He kept the silence in the air for a minute too long that Jisung started to cross his arms and tap his feet. The noise of his sneaker beating the floor echoed through the tunnel, a constant noise that made the man roll his eyes and break out of his trance. He dropped his hands to his side before reaching for his phone. You said nothing when he tapped briefly on the blackened screen. The man looked up after shoving the phone back in its original place.

“Follow me.” 

You raised your brows, but the facial change was unnoticeable. You didn’t want anyone to notice your disbelief. 

This was going too smoothly, to a point where it felt against your favor. Even though most missions have gone easy for you three because of the blatant power disparity, saved for the occasional (as Hyunjin loved to say) collateral damage, this was going far too well. Desperate people were often persistent, even in the face of utter doom. Most criminals you three have met would push through for a fleeting chance, a minor mishap, a God-given opportunity to fight back or to run. Once they get it, they will latch onto it until you rip it out of their bloody hands. 

Immediately giving up and seeing you to where you needed to go was suspicious, even if it felt like you talked the man into giving up. Perhaps he was stalling when he made those thoughtful faces to trick you into believing that you were guiding his decisions, and he had an alternative plan all along that he couldn’t have you suspecting of. You brainstormed the different ways this scenario could unfold as you walked through the spacious tunnels, and there were many ways this could go. 

One, you three were being led into a trap, and instead of notifying their boss of your arrival, they called for backup. Two, you were escorted to meet the big man himself, and you strike a fraudulent deal to trick him into following you to the department headquarters. Three, instead of him taking the deal, he chose not to cooperate, then you must forcefully bring him back to the department headquarters. Four, you three were tricked into walking in circles for as long as it would take for the boss to arrive after being notified of your presence, and you were set up to be ambushed. 

"I have a bad feeling about this," you whispered.

"You always have a bad feeling," Jisung muttered nonchalantly, his focus maintained on keeping his walking straight for his childish satisfaction. "You had a bad feeling during our statistics exam too, and guess what?”

"We got that question wrong," Han said before Jisung could continue.

“What? We did?” Jisung exclaimed to himself as he threw his arms up in defeat. They dropped to his side loosely, bouncing and bumping off his torso. He seemed genuinely disappointed, which you figured he would be since he was the one who made up the answer. But, just as you were about to say something comforting, Jisung shrugged and pointed a finger at you and Han. "For the record, we didn't get it wrong. The boy sitting next to us did. The only wrong we did–I did! Was being too trusting!" 

"You cheated?”

"We." Jisung swung his hands in a circular motion to gesture between all three of you. "We cheated."

"Jisung, why would you do that?" you asked exasperatedly. "What if the professors find out? They're going to force me back on the cuffs again during tests, and you know I won't do well when that happens!”

"Yeah, I know, but get this," Jisung held up his hands in mock surrender and a gesture of tranquility, "they didn't find out.”

"That's why the question is hypothetical," Han said immediately. "Dumb shit.”

Jisung was the last person to stop walking. Today was not going well for him! He prided himself in being optimistic and cheerful, albeit his optimism often resided in violent situations he liked to suggest. He never thought himself to be pissy (he was), but you two were getting on his last nerve! Did he do something to be ganged up on like this? He hasn’t consciously stolen leftovers in a while; he kept the bathroom clean after using it, and, well, he was loud when he was playing video games but who wasn’t? If he did something annoying, he couldn’t realize it, so why was he getting attitudes left and right?

Without realizing it, you three have stopped in your tracks to have this conversation, to have an abrupt siblings' quarrel. 

"Why are you both against me today!" Jisung raised his voice after stuttering out incoherent noises.

"That's your interpretation of what we're doing," you said.

"That's your interpretation of what we're–" Jisung yapped about in a tone that exaggeratedly mimicked yours, but he was cut short when you reached out and collided your fist to his chest, punching him hard enough to stumble. Jisung glared at you with a surprised gasp he let out. When he regained his balance, he immediately retaliated by slapping you. “What the hell!” 

“Don’t fucking hit me!” Shocked, but not enough to be taken back wholly by Jisung’s action, you hissed out as you advanced toward him with your arms outstretched.

Jisung readied himself, yet his only resort was to clumsily block your punches once your arms began thrashing about near his head and shoulders. You slapped the back of his head, punched his cheek off to the side where the jaw met, pulled his hair, and hit the back of his neck once you got his head to bow toward your direction. He continuously let out yells of protest, beyond irritated, as he haphazardly threw his hands around to either block or attack you. Whatever he could manage while being forced to look at the floor would do. When his fingers felt even a whiff of your hair, he latched onto it and pulled, turning the tables around. 

“Gosh, you both,” Han muttered before the short string of profanity targeted toward calling you two a waste of space, childish, annoying, and aggressive all in one sentence. He marched over with the intention of pulling you two apart, but when Jisung put you in a headlock and tugged you around to make you lose your balance, Han got hit on the way, causing Jisung to direct the hostility toward him. 

“Han, get out of the way!”

Like spikes unleashing, the hair on Han’s neck stood. Not only was this brawl unnecessary, but it was also dangerous. It seemed that you and Jisung had forgotten you were stooped in the middle of an underground sewage system refurbished to become a criminal hideout. Letting your guard down to resolve a quarrel with violence was the last thing to focus on. Han wasn’t even part of this brawl. He never said anything! How could Jisung yell at him like that? He cracked his knuckles and pursed his lips together, deciding he would ultimately join the sibling brawl anyway. But, as he took the first step toward you both, he paused. 

The standing of his hair wasn’t from Jisung’s misplaced annoyance. There was something else in the atmosphere. Not cold, not hot, just something, someone. 

A bolt of yellow caught the corner of Han’s eyes. He snapped his head upward to find it scraping past his peripheral vision and going down a path toward where you and Jisung were still grappling with each other. Cursing aloud, Han lunged his body toward you both, his hands stretched to his side. He pushed both of you out of the way of the bolt of lightning, causing it to hit and blow a small hole through the ground. Jisung let go of you immediately at the commotion, but he kept a hand near the base of your neck while you turned to look at where the noise came from. 

The attack did not cease after its failed first attempt. Han’s brows were furrowed when he briefly saw a man standing near the end of the tunnel. Seconds after that was another bolt of lightning coming your way, which Han managed to deter at the cost of his arm. It seemed that the bolt pierced through his upper arm, through the bone, and took his arm with it. You flinched at the blood that splattered on your face while Han looked over and grimaced at his torn sleeve. The immense pain that came with having a limb torn off vanished when his arm regenerated within a blink of an eye; bones, vessels, flesh, skin, and all those components stretching out through what was left of his arm. 

“Well,” Jisung mused, almost comedically, “that was something.” 

“I’ve never actually seen you regenerate a whole arm before,” you commented as you turned away from Han. You sucked in a deep breath and harshly knocked on your chest to reduce the urge to puke. “That was disgusting.”

“That doesn’t make me feel good, [Name],” Han said with a frown. 

“I would hope it doesn’t. You just got your arm torn off–“ You held up a hand to pause before turning around. You whimpered upon seeing the fallen arm on the floor and hit Jisung’s shoulder. “Oh no, your arm is still there! It’s still there!”

“How screwed do you think we will be if we bring it back and put it in Changbin’s room?” Jisung suggested then, snickering with a few shimmers of his shoulders. 

Han laughed with him, giving him an approving bump on the side. “He’ll fuck you up.”

It was clear as day that the three of you were prone to be absorbed in your world, and he could not imagine there was a reason why you shouldn’t develop a lack of care for your surroundings. Nothing painstakingly dangerous has ever happened to you three. Even when a threat is presented to you, it would be reduced to child’s play at the twins’ feet, like a powerless to a powered, a powered to a God. 

But there was also no doubt that a plan years in the making was finally set in motion, and he could not afford to fail. The three of you were an asset, a valuable offering to a God capable of sharing more of its magic; there was nothing like getting on a God’s good side by serving them the head of their brothers and sisters. 

“Why is everyone frozen today?” you asked under your breath when you caught sight of the man who amputated Han’s arm.

He was of average height and well-built, which you could tell from the short-sleeve shirt barely fitting his torso. One side of the sleeves was ripped off to accommodate his glowing arm. Judging by the shape and the smokey smell that erupted from the two bolts thrown at you three just then, it seemed the glow came from electricity. The man has one arm made out of pure electricity strong enough to rival the lightning current; it was a gift from one of the most popular Gods in ancient and modern days, but more informatively, he may have received a power portion more significant than usual.

You let your gaze linger on him. He must be the guy Seungmin wanted you to catch. He seemed like a big deal. 

“That’s a cool arm,” Jisung gawked quietly at first. Then he stuck his head out between you and Han to shout directly at the menacing stranger. “Hey! Cool arm!” 

You shoved his face back with alert. “Jisung, stop!” you hissed, to which he responded with a frustrated puff of air out his nose and a few slaps at your arm. 

Han inwardly condemned you two for being unable to keep still for a second while keeping his main focus elsewhere. He tilted his head as he scanned the strange newcomer thoroughly. His eyes flashed with horrific fragments before he scoffed, already making up his mind on how he felt about him. “He cut off his original arm to make this artificial one,” Han said. “I can hardly see how that’s worth the pain.”

Jisung held down a chuckle. He doubted Han would understand anything about losing a limp anyway. “You’re just jealous because you will never get a lightning arm.”

“No, Han has a point.” You shook your head after a moment of thought. “You can never hold anything with the other arm. You’ll end up frying your surroundings.”

“Oh, my bad.” Jisung rolled his eyes. “I forgot you two are banning together to go against me today.”

You clicked your tongue and shoved Jisung’s hand off your neck. Han rolled his eyes in silence, but he made a point to exaggerate his movement so that Jisung knew how annoyed he was with such a baseless accusation. Watching your attention spans collectively last no more than a few seconds was humiliating and unsurprising. The man wondered if it was the product of being a young adult drowned in a world of continuous reinforcement or if you three genuinely have no sense of danger and care for your well-being. 

Regardless, your lack of focus would work in his favor. 

“Remember our main goal.” Raising his electric arm, the man snapped his finger with a dead stare on your face. “The host.”

The illusional cloak unknowingly draped over your sight plopped from your eyes, and before you could process it, the tunnel was filled with people. Strangers surrounded you with one goal in mind: steal the twins. A heavy sigh released beneath your chest. This was an ambush. You were right to be alerted. 

“I told you I had a bad feeling about this,” you whispered.

Jisung didn’t spare a glance at you as he unconsciously took a step forward, blocking your figure behind him. What you said was both a jab at his previous reaction and a statement on the urgency of the current situation, but he could not focus on talking back. He fixed his rolled-up hoodie sleeve to ensure it stayed away from the burnt area and subtly popped his wrist.

“We’re getting the big guy there, right?” Han asked for clarification, his arms dropped to his side and his new wrist rotating so he could get used to the muscles and joints. 

“Most likely,” you replied. “We should deal with everyone else first. It’s better not to be distracted.”

Han laughed lowly. “We’re a little outnumbered.”

“We are,” Jisung mused with the tip of his tongue swiping across the corner of his lower lip. “How far can we go, [Name]?”

“Huh?” You shook your head as a confused smile grew. 

Jisung faced ahead, his hands jittery as a sign of him being trigger-happy. But he waited for your response because he understood the repercussions of him possibly killing a few people along the way. He didn’t care much about the deaths he put on his hands, but he knew Jeongin sent you here as a form of damage control—if you catch a terrible person, people will more or less forgive you for destroying public infrastructures and causing a few accidental near-death experiences. If people don’t, at least it couldn’t be argued that they did something useful. He didn’t want to block those intended results into the mud because he decided to stop a few hearts on the way, and Jeongin would end up having his work cut out for him. 

Make no mistake. Jisung couldn’t care less how Jeongin felt, and he still planned to punch Jeongin square in the face when they saw each other again. Depending on the reaction, he would punch Seungmin too. 

“Don’t kill anyone,” you said, eyeing over to the side. “And remember, we’re here to get the big guy.”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung joked. A maniacal cackle burst through Jisung’s lip after he jumped up mid-hair and pounced on the nearest person he could see. 

Despite his incredible range of magical usage, he has taken a liking to let his fists do the talking and not using magic to his advantage unless necessary. He always enjoyed the forceful feeling at the tips of his knuckles more, and he liked that he had to make accommodations to use his magic because it gave him an easy reason to keep being physical. He would try to dodge incoming attacks in combat with fewer opponents. It was another story when he was outnumbered. His focus remained on getting hits in rather than keeping his body safe. Like a masochist, pain fueled him and made his eyes glow red. It made him punch harder, run faster, and smile wider.

“He’s having fun,” you muttered, sucking in sharp air at the sight of someone’s teeth falling through the air. You could not tell if the tooth belonged to Jisung, as opposed to the blood spots on the ground where he stood. 

“He’s gonna take forever to recover from this,” Han said.

“Good. That means we get to be free of work for a while.”

“You mean he’s gonna be free of work,” Han groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If Jeongin can send us down here, you think he would stop dispatching us on missions just because–“

“Han, stop standing around!” Jisung shrieked with a fistful of someone’s hair. He carelessly dropped the fainted man on the ground so he could throw a middle finger up at Han after seeing his brother’s nonchalant expression in response. 

Not allowed to react to Jisung, Han felt the goosebumps traveling through his skin and detected a presence at his side. He leisurely raised his hand, his fingers crooked with only the index finger standing straight. You ducked behind him at the blinding light that emerged in a flash while Han stared deadly into the man’s eyes, hidden partially behind his lightning arm. It took a moment for Han to relax; it was good to know that telekinesis works on the electric arm.

“You kids are so damn weird.”

As soon as Han took off the pressure around the air, the man allowed the momentum of his arm to swing his body around. He hopped, his hips moving along with the motion to kick his leg up high. Han blocked the stomp of the leg with his forearm and shoved it away. Reaching out, he grabbed the front collar of the man’s shirt. He disregarded the burn of electrocution when the man held onto his wrist in an attempt to struggle his grip off. Han quickly punched the older man’s face, returning with his palm facing flat against it so he could slam his muscular body to the nearest wall. 

The man gritted his teeth, taking in the gist of Han’s natural strength through the pain. He twisted his hand around Han’s wrist but failed to break it. It did catch Han off-guard, though, and he took the chance to break free from the hole in the wall. Ducking his sudden arm swing, Han dropped to the ground and kicked his body into a cartwheel, his feet colliding against the man’s chin into an uppercut. The elder heaved an irritated groan as he snapped back to the present. He charged at Han. 

Han blocked his roundhouse kick twice, and he grasped onto the man’s ankle at the third kick. Pulling at his feet to throw him across the tunnel, Han did not anticipate the grab on his shoulder, causing him to halt his movement, or else he could have been thrown along with the man. Taking Han’s confusion as an opportunity, the man grounded his other feet against the floor for leverage and quickly swung Han’s lightweight body over his shoulder. He let go, leaving Han in mid-air, and charged his electric arm enough to punch Han a few yards away to the other end of the tunnel.

Jisung looked away from the lackeys at the commotion. His eyes widened when he found his brother standing up from afar, slowly registering the fact that the man must have considerable strength. But, more importantly, the next target appeared to be you. Shoving the person before him and hopping atop their stumbling body, Jisung vanished into falling white feathers and reappeared next to you. After you dodged the man’s hand from meeting your shoulder, you hopped back to give Jisung space. 

Instead of advancing, Jisung lunged toward you and tackled you into his arms, just in time to miss a punch. Before you two hit the ground, Han motioned at you both and telekinetically pulled you to where he stood. 

Jisung tightened his grip on your hand once you both were back on your feet. He wiped the blood dripping from his nose and reached his tongue out to touch the smear around his philtrum. He dealt with most people gathered, leaving a reasonable number of them roaming around. But the main problem here was the man with the lightning arm. Han may have been caught off guard, but being able to push someone several yards away at such high velocity could only mean that either he was well-trained, which wouldn’t make sense regardless, or electricity was not the only power he received, which would be unusual. 

Powers come in single forms, discounting the side effects. Electricity is only electricity. It doesn’t give you super strength. Unless the man pawned off an additional ability from a God, which was unheard of but might be the more reasonable explanation for his superhuman strength, there was no way he could have pushed Han that far. 

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked.

“Yeah,” Han touched a hand to his ribcage, “he broke my ribs.”

Jisung knew his brother was okay. He eyed the crowd in the front, almost daring them to continue the fight. 

“I didn’t say anything before, but,” Han said, “why did he need this many people here?”

“I hate to say this, Han, but more people want us dead than you think.” you gasped before gradually steadying your breathing to calm yourself. 

“Yeah. Remember the first day of school?” Jisung added. “Remember what Chan did?”

Han squinted his eyes and scratched his head in recollection. That did not complicate the situation more, but it did not lighten the mood either. The newfound knowledge of the boss’s strength changed how things would turn out. The twins were not afraid, not exactly. Cautious would be a better word. Perhaps even unsure whether this was the best extent to what the older man could do. 

There have never been any recorded cases of a God gifting more of their power to a human before. But it would not make sense that he was stronger than an average person even with the criminal experience, which was beginning to seem like that was the case. 

“What’s the plan now?” Han asked discreetly, staring ahead at the crowd. 

“We catch the guy,” you replied. “But let’s get rid of everyone else first.” 

“Han, you do that,” Jisung muttered. “He was going for [Name] just then. I think he knows if they die, we die.” 

Han turned to Jisung, frowning. Nobody would sit idly by once he initiates another fight, and if he were too busy handling the crowd, Jisung would have to protect you. Han was worried about his brother’s ability to hold his own without regenerative abilities and already having sustained injuries. “Can you handle it?”

Jisung raised his brows. He should be. For some reason, the distrust did not anger him. He leaned over to bump his knuckles against his brother’s arm and chuckled. “Just come help before I lose an arm.”

“Okay.” Han rubbed the tip of his nose with a smirk. “For the record, did we forgive Chan for that?” 

“Oh yeah, totally,” Jisung said with a dismissive wave. “We’ll hate him again when we need to hold something against him.”

Han chuckled before he took off. The gust of wind blew against your face, forcing you to shut your eyes, and when you could open them again, the same electric glow was advancing only steps ahead of you and Jisung. Jisung got into a stance that Changbin taught him, and he focused his breathing in preparation. He thought of this as backyard training with Changbin, who may be the worst opponent he has ever encountered solely due to the veteran’s years of training and experiences. Nothing could be worse than fighting someone like that.

The electricity burnt his palm when Jisung caught a flying fist. He ignored it and tugged the older man forward, leading the path off-track to the side to ram his fist, coated with air pressure, straight at the man’s ribs. Jisung let go after the punch, stumbling slightly due to recoil but immediately regaining his balance to advance toward the man. He hopped up, ready to hand over a roundhouse kick, but vanished into white feathers and reappeared behind the man. Jisung grabbed a fist full of his hair, yanked his head downward to meet his knee, and attempted to fling him into the tunnel wall. 

The man could see you before him, shrunken by yourself with neither of the twins by your side. This was what he wanted, to get you alone. He was dissatisfied just then seeing that Han was standing next to you like a guard dog; in terms of getting rid of nuisances, he would much rather fight someone without regenerative abilities. This was his chance, but his anger only built up as Jisung threw him around with stupid magic tricks. Foolish, insolent child. He could not afford to fail this operation after everything he’s done to obtain the powers he wanted. 

None were enough. From his wife and children to all he had kidnapped. He needed to offer a God to another God. Imagine the gift he would receive. At some point, as his body slowly becomes accustomed to withholding more energy, he may eventually get enough power to kill a God by himself. 

Before Jisung could slam him to the wall, the man reached his zapping arm up and unthinkingly gripped around Jisung’s burnt area, which had been swollen and blistered. The younger boy gritted his teeth in pain when he felt the worm-like electricity digging into his flesh—this hurt more than any attacks he tanked a moment ago fighting the group of lackeys. Jisung released the man’s hair in a hasty attempt to tug himself away when the man began to dig his nails into his skin, tearing through tissues and drawing blood. He screamed for the man to let go, his legs squirming. 

You gasped horrifically at the sight and decided to dive into the scene to help. But, seeing you out of his peripheral vision, Jisung screamed at you to stop. 

“No! [Name], move away!” Jisung hollered as he placed his palm out, gathering a ball of air pressure and haphazardly releasing it. 

The man plummeted a few feet into the ground, and Jisung finally dropped onto the floor. You scrambled over to him and helped him up carefully. He held onto his arm, sweat lacing his hair and his face turning red as he glared at where his hand once was. The force of the air blast, the grounded nails the man had stuck into his skin, and the decaying skin due to continuous burning helped tear his hand straight off when Jisung blasted the man away from him. Jisung trembled, leaning into the pain with his eyes shut. 

He was fine. It was just very unexpected.

Before you could do anything, the man emerged abruptly from the hole in the ground. Jisung pushed you away with his body and got caught by the neck. The man smirked as he lifted Jisung off the ground. “I got you two now.” He threw Jisung over his shoulder, around, and across the tunnel to where Han was. As he did so, he yelled, “Open the Steal Box!”

Han looked up and opened his arms to catch his falling brother. He clung onto Jisung as the other boy squirmed to get back on the ground, muttering incoherent demands. Han couldn't find one when he reached to feel for his hand. He could only feel the jagged end of a bone and dripping liquid on his skin. “Jisung, what happened?”

Standing alone on the other side, you quickened your breath at the accelerating situation, and more horrifically, you could recognize two words: Steal Box.

They were not trying to kill you three. They were trying to steal the twins.

“Han, get out of the way!” you screamed when you saw a familiar device being opened behind Han. Before you knew it, your legs began to move, and you were bolting toward your brothers. 

You did not stop despite seeing Jisung and Han get sucked into the box. The lid closed, and for a moment, there were silence and the shuffling around of your running. As anticipated, the box shook and glowed along its developing cracks, indicating an attempt to break out. Before the pair of angered twins could bring themselves out of the blackened cage, you were yanked backward by your arms, and within a blink of an eye, two suppression cuffs slammed around your wrists. You gasped shakily as the shaking of the box paused to a standstill. 

Nausea overwhelmed you, which you tried your hardest to fight off. You immediately began to grow anxious without the twins around. This was expected; your body could not handle losing an essential part of itself. You had the appearance sequence of the symptoms memorized: sweating, fuzzy eyesight that would fade in and out, burning skin, migraine, stomach pain and the urge to vomit, loss of muscle strength, and so on. And there would be a mix of feeling hollowed out in your chest while being stuffed so full of nothing that you felt suffocated.

Touching a palm to your forehead, you let yourself stumble forward to the person holding the Steal Box. Having let their guard down after knowing the twins were gone, they allow you. You fell to your knees and heaved a few deep breaths. You choked on air suddenly and threw yourself into a coughing fit. Your coughs sounded through the big tunnels, covering the sound of the man’s steps nearing. 

“That was eventful.” He motioned for the Steal Box and received it gladly. He took a gracious moment to examine the box, weighing it in his hand, then leaned down to pull you up by your chin. He shook the box before you, as if to tease you of your failure. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this?”

You pursed your lips together into a scornful grimace despite having your jaw clenched between rough fingers. “I don’t even–“ You huffed, feeling a lack of oxygen in your chest. “I don’t even know you.”

“Of course,” he hummed and dropped you leisurely to the ground. You hit your head and curled into a ball to rub at the pain. “You don’t know a lot of things.” 

“I know you’re a thief!” You accused, kneeling up. “Give them back!”

“Shouldn’t your body be deteriorating?” He peered down at you before kicking your stomach to keep you down. He inhaled calmly as he looked away, his eyes focused on the Steal Box. “Give them back–don’t fuck around. Your brothers are very valuable offerings.”

You blinked in confusion. Offerings? Like worship? But you have never heard of giving physical presents to a God before. You thought they gained their powers through prayers and beliefs! Was it just an incredibly niche practice? Raising your head, you gasped between breaths to watch the man turn around and walk away. Whatever he meant, you understood that he intended to kill the twins, which you must prevent. Not just to keep yourself alive but also because you loved them. 

After everything they have been through for you, this was the one thing you could do for them. You have to hold your own. You must endure this not because you have to prove that you didn’t need your brothers but because you did need them. Desperately, endearingly, you needed them. You three shared one life together, and you were meant to do so until the very end, which wasn’t this moment. You three were a whole existence, the same coin, buried in one grave. You three stick together, as best friends, as siblings, and you will love each other forever. That was why you have to get the Steal Box. 

You threw yourself forward and caught onto the man’s feet. He clicked his tongue and attempted to shake you off. Then he tried to hit you with the Steal Box, leaving jagged corners on your head and temples. You clawed on his skin and jumped to your feet despite the added injuries. Putting your arms around his shoulders, you used his heavier weight as an anchor and jumped onto his body. Then you climbed over his shoulder to remain on his back before, with only malicious intent, sunk your teeth into his neck. You bit until you drew blood, until you felt both of his hands on your hair, and you let him fling you off his back.

You bounced back from the fall against your migraine’s wishes and immediately ran to snatch the Steal Box from the ground. Before you bolted away, you stomped on the man’s feet and shoved his unsuspecting self into a group of others. You kept running, spitting the scratched-off skin surface and the metallic blood out into the air and hoping your legs were taking you back to where you three came from. 

Your breathing was heavier against the wind blowing against your face as you run. Clutching the box to your chest, fearing for your brothers, you felt your lungs slowly giving out. The air was turning icy and piercing in your throat, traveling like the drag of a knife against your insides. You remembered how you were never a runner. Even during school Sports Days, you always sat on the benches, cheering for others. You refused to join Changbin whenever he would take his daily jogs on weekend mornings, either. Both because you hated exercising and because your relationship with him was strained. 

Drops of tears welled in your eyes at the thought of Changbin. You knew you treated him terribly today, but it would be great if he was here. You promised God that you would apologize to him if he came and saved the day. 

A light explosion that landed near your feet made you trip. You stumbled, barely managed to catch yourself, and you quickened your pace with an alarmed cry. Fastened steps caught up from behind you and yanked at your hair, forcing you to stop. The tears that welled in your eyes rolled down your cheeks when you saw the man that torn Jisung’s hand off just a minute ago, but regardless of how much you feared him, you bit your inner cheek and clung onto your brothers as he tried to pull the box out of your hands. 

“Give me the box.” 

He sounded impatient, and he likely was because he threw you to the side by your hair, causing your back to slam against the wall on your way to the ground. He kicked you into the wall again and stomped on your hand when you tried to steady yourself, breaking some of your fingers. You let out an airy scream, your dry throat unable to produce any more shrieking noises, and you refused to let go of the box. He attempted to pry your arms off its surface, slapping and punching your curled-up body in hopes of loosening your grip. He burned your limbs with electricity, creating boiled spots over your skin. You pursed your lips and shut your eyes tight, taking the painful blows with only protecting the twins as your goal. 

“You little shit, hand me the box!”

There was a gruffness in his voice when he yelled that sounded identical but also so different from Changbin’s. He may be strict, but he would never hurt you like this. He would never hurt any of you like this. You sobbed with your cheeks pressed against the box, crying for your father, striking another deal with the unknown God, and promising to be nicer like you always did when push comes to shove. 

“[Name]? Han? Jisung?”

You snapped your eyes open, prayers heeded. Scrambling to scream for help, you looked up to find the man distracted as he looked for the source of the voice. Fighting against the growing pain and terrible headache, you tugged the Steal Box under your shirt, wrapped your arms around it, and pushed yourself up and forward. You ran, stumbled, caught yourself again, and kept running as you screamed for the echoes to carry your location to Changbin. If he entered the sewage tunnels the same way you three did, all you had to do was return where you came from. 

“Help me! I’m here!” Your voice was hoarse and barely made it out. It sounded like a metal fork scraping against a porcelain bowl or the shrieking chalk against a blackboard. 

The man was following hot at your tail, so you held your breath and pushed yourself past your body’s limit to run away from him. After a few corners turned, Changbin finally located the source of the rapid footsteps. He sighed in relief when he saw you running toward him and firmly caught you in his arms after you lunged at him. 

“What happened?” he asked when he felt how shaky your body was. Your throat scratched out strangled, desperate cries through a closed mouth. 

Changbin dropped to the floor with you, ignoring the water that wet the knees of his jeans, and he examined your body grimly. The twins were gone; he could tell from the cuffs on your wrists. Blood spilled from your lips and nose, some smeared across your forehead through gashes and cuts. There were bubbling spots of dead skin on your arms, and three of your fingers seemed broken. 

All the injuries on top of you gradually declining health, it was a miracle you hadn’t passed out yet.

He held your face gently in his hands, wiping at the falling tears, and his eyes were unreadable but shaky. Changbin felt gutted, like someone drove a knife into his stomach and slowly began picking out his organs. Each tremor of his hands that cradled your face was a weep he couldn’t afford to let out through his mouth—he was trained not to cry, and he couldn’t as the adult in this situation either, but his heart was broken and sobbing with worry. 

He asked again, his voice barely a hush. “What happened, [Name]?” 

“I’m sorry,” you croaked and sniffed, hyperventilating. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Okay. It’s okay.” He stroked your hair, unsure of how to respond. He was too focused on what caused all these injuries to ask for the source of your apology. 

“Jisung and Han,” you cleared your throat mid-sentence as you let the Steal Box fall from your shirt, “are in here.” You continued to talk between deep, difficult drags of air. “They sucked them into a Steal Box again. I haven’t opened it, but–“ You closed your eyes at the wave of sobs bubbling up. You let it break out. “Dad, I can’t–I can’t breathe.”

He panicked and reached into his jacket for his flask, but he stopped knowing that he had never once filled it with water. Whatever was in there would not necessarily help you. But he didn’t know what else he could do. What else was he supposed to do? He should grab you now and make a run for the hospital—of course! That should be his next step, medical attention! Forget whoever did this. He could always come back to deal with it. What mattered the most now was to get you to safety. 

“Oh… Jisung–Jisung’s hand got torn off,” you gestured a motion at your hand, “and he took a burn for me, and–“

Changbin could hear the wind pick up around him seconds before your voice fell flat. A lightning bolt molded into the form of a spear was traveling through the air to where he knelt, but before it could hit anything, Changbin shot his arm out and stopped it in its tracks by grabbing its body. You squealed, shuffling for the Steal Box and holding it to your chest again when the familiar heat neared. Seeing your reaction, he removed his attention from you and turned his head to glance behind his shoulder. The lightning man stood not too far away, amused but bothered by Changbin’s presence.

Changbin looked at the lightning sparkling across the bolt and back at your arms. He clenched his jaw, relaxed, and leaned toward you to brush the hair out of your face.

“Stay here,” he whispered, and he stood up.

His jaw tensed again. Taking a few steps forward, he stopped to keep at a safe distance from the man whom he now knew was behind all of this fiasco. Glancing at the lighting spear in his hand, he sneered disgustedly and curled his fingers tightly around it. His muscle flexed with a faint shake of his arm, his grip pressuring a few cracks onto the electrical weapon until it shattered. Changbin sighed with ease as he wiped the remaining specks of dust on his shirt, and he pressed his lips into a thin line when the man laughed.

He was getting better at handling his short temper. Sometimes Chan liked to joke with him about how he only began to grow impatient because he had to live with three teenagers and that most of what triggered his outbursts was associated with the three of you. He often denied that claim; he liked to think his aggression came from years of serving in the military and being forced into hostile environments. But perhaps he could see some truth in Chan’s assumption. Maybe most of his violence did come from you three because all he could feel now, as he stood opposite of the man who mapped your body with blood, was a choking rage spread across his body.

“At last,” the man mused, “daddy’s here.”

Changbin’s ears felt like popping after being muffled for too long, his listening filled with the flat noise of a high-pitched frequency. His joints ached with emotional restraints, and his muscles screamed to be exerted. His body wanted nothing more than to harm.

The man’s expression was vague, enough to let Changbin know that the man wasn’t a stranger to his past. Three years in the military, six years serving in the special forces, four years strangling down a pair of teenagers who were basically God, and an immunity to magic—compared to the inexperienced twins, Changbin would be worse to deal with. Not to mention he was pushed to his wit’s end after knowing the twins were stuffed in a box and seeing you all messed up and sobbing on the floor. 

Seo Changbin would be a nightmare, and he planned to be. 

“I don’t appreciate you hurting my kids,” he said, his voice monotonous.

“Well,” the man sighed. “I don’t wish to fight you.”

“I wouldn’t stress about it.” Changbin curled his hands into fists. “You won’t be fighting.”

Stepping on the shattered lightning in the process, Changbin’s slow march toward the man shifted to a jog before turning into a full sprint. The man blocked the roundhouse kick with arms crossed before his head, but even then, he was shoved back a few feet at the sheer impact. He groaned; the intensity was smiliar to Han’s punches, but unlike the younger boy, Changbin’s were heavy and certain. He aimed to immobilize using the least effort necessary instead of dishing out multiple strong blows and hoping for the best. 

Changbin gave him no time to adjust to his strength. He ran toward the man and aimed for his chest, further pushing him backward. Having had enough, he finally decided to retaliate. He blocked the follow-up kick by shoving Changbin’s feet to the side. 

Changbin skilfully swung his body toward its direction, leveling his feet against the ground to steady himself once it reached, and used it for momentum to swing his opposite arm at his target. The first punch was blocked, but when Changbin bluffed out the second one, he was able to land a blow successfully. The punch sounded out loud in contact, and the man felt blood trickling down his nose. He groaned in annoyance, glaring at Changbin with a burning gaze as if his arrival ruined his life, which it arguably did. Jumping back, he reached for his lightning arm and took a good chunk of it. The empty slot soon smoothed over with electricity. 

“I know the lightning doesn’t work on you,” he said as he shaped the lightning into something sharp. “But I’m sure a knife still does.” 

The man lunged when Changbin didn’t respond. At this point, he was more agitated than calculative; his movements began to dull predictably as he focused on injuring rather than winning. 

Changbin jumped back to dodge before the tip of the knife could graze his chest, and he continued to backtrack in between ducking away from the knife’s advances. When an opening introduced itself, he grabbed the man’s wrist and disarmed him by slamming straight down on his inner elbow, souring a sensitive spot that made him lose his grip. 

Changbin caught the electrical knife before it fell and jammed it into the man’s shoulder, causing his knees to buckle. Hopping high enough to land on one of those knees, Changbin pushed the man a few steps back when he shoved himself off the wobbly leg, back-flipping toward the wall and using it so lung himself at the unassuming man again. He kicked his stomach, causing the man to cough out saliva. Throwing the lightning knife into his other hand, Changbin stabbed its tip into a spot above the man’s wrist. He placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into the tunnel wall.

He thought about it. Killing someone takes less than a second; stabbing someone was more fulfilling than shooting someone because he could feel the tightening of their flesh against the blade, desperately closing and clinging to life. It was more fulfilling, and to some degree, he thought he even enjoyed it sometimes. When he looked at the man in front of him, and flashes of your injured face appeared like fuel to fire, he thought about killing him despite having sworn off doing it again after he was discharged from the military. 

“Hold still,” Changbin mumbled. He wiggled and twisted the knife sideways. The electricity made it much easier to slice through skin tissues. Once he felt it hit the bone, he applied constant pressure through a mild, sawing motion. Maybe it was the magic infused in the blade; as soon as the blade edge seeped through, the force of the blade opened the bone for itself to pass through. 

You meekly looked up when you flinched at the piercing shrieks. Your eyesight was fading with a heavy fog, and you could barely distinguish which figure was who. Changbin pressed his forearm against the man’s hand to restrain the level of squirming until he, with effort, could let the knife breathe by pulling it out of the man’s arm. A squishy, plopping sound hit the ground. It was a bloodied hand. Seconds later, another thud dropped on the floor. It was the man who fainted. 

Throwing the knife away, Changbin sneered down at the body before he crouched and grabbed the man’s cut hand. He swung it about lightly as he jogged over to you and knelt by your feet, his eyes no longer seeing shades of crimson. 

“Hey.” he called softly as he put a hand on the Steal Box. A lock piece in the center held the lid shut; if he suspected correctly, it operated through fingerprint recognition like the suppression cuffs were. “Let’s see…”

Taking your hand, Changbin grimaced at the sight of the lifeless hand. You would definitely have a few aggressive words to say if you knew he put something so disgusting anywhere near you. Placing the hand around the suppression cuff, he watched in anticipation as it began to glow brightly before, with a click, the cuff released and rolled off your wrist. After releasing you from both cuffs, Changbin reached for the Steal Box and pressed the thumb to the centerpiece. A line of light traveled through the opening of the lid, circled the piece, and the box opened with a soft click.

A huff of cold air escaped the box as Changbin opened it. You sucked in a breath then, as if breathing in the cold air that got out, and your eyes widened abruptly at the clearing vision. A double weight pressed against your thighs. When you processed the faces in front of you, you registered that it was the twins. Han examined your injuries with a clenched jaw, his brows knitted at the center of his forehead. Jisung clung to his injured arm and gave you a reassuring smile when you two met eyes.

“We’re matching,” Jisung mumbled, pointing a finger to the dry blood on his forehead. 

You chuckled at first, and then you sniffed at the tearful knot you swallowed past your teeth. Your eyes watered as you leaned against the wall, and timid sobs rolled down your face. Han pulled his sleeve over his hand so he could dap at your eyes. His voice muttered soft words of urgency that asked you not to cry. Jisung remained silent on his knees, never too sure how to comfort a deeply distraught person, but his eyes observed you, not missing a beat of your in- and exhales. 

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” Han cooed, moving his knees closer to your side inch by inch. He wiped your tears and carefully plucked at the strands of hair stuck to your cheek. He kissed the crown of your head. “You’re okay.” 

“Are you both feeling fine?” 

The twins turned their heads and simultaneously softened when they saw Changbin kneeling by your feet. Han looked away to the back, and his lips pursed into recognition when he noticed the familiar man faintde on the floor. Jisung followed his brother’s gaze. His jaw dropped slightly at the sight, taken back as his hand flew to his wrist to feel for the cut tentatively. He could still feel the lingering pain, but it wasn’t bothering him much anymore. His breathing picked up when he noticed an identical injury on the man.

“I’m good,” Han replied before he eyed Jisung. “I’m not sure about him, though.”

“I’ll heal.” Jisung nodded. 

They stayed silent after that, but the glance they shared was riddled with guilt. The kind of guilt you could see in someone when they realize they have been unreasonably horrible to someone they should not be. 

“Alright. We will go to the hospital first anyway so we can get [Name] treated,” Changbin said as he stood up. He didn’t know how else to show his concern. He approached the fainted man and reached down to hoist him up so he could throw him over the shoulder. “Text Jeongin that we’re bringing him in shortly.”

“Come on,” Han said quietly as he helped you up. He frowned at how your legs trembled as you stood and how you seemed unable to stand up straight. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“No,” you grunted. 

You were toughing it out, as Han assumed you have from all the injuries you sustained. There was a soft sense of pride blooming in his chest and a touch of love knowing that you did everything you could to keep them safe inside the Steal Box, just as he and Jisung did everything to keep you from harm. Not because of a mutual lifeline, but because you loved each other dearly, because you three have been with each other since birth and have never separated once, because you three make one whole. 

Han didn’t think you should have to continue holding yourself up after that, but if you insisted, he would comply. Jisung followed closely next to you, cracking jokes that mocked your walking speed. Han held onto you to keep you steady, and he laughed between steps.

The apartment has never been more rowdy since you three moved out. 

Hyunjin clapped at the movie on the television, causing you to look up from your phone. You frowned when you realized you had missed the scene entirely, but you decided not to bombard Hyunjin with questions. You repositioned the cross of your legs draped over his lap and sank further against the couch. Hyunjin clicked his tongue into a pout as he adjusted his seat to accommodate you. He quickly let go of the matter when the movie's pace picked up.

Felix sat on the edge of the coffee table before the couch. There was a small, pet container sitting on top surrounded by carelessly thrown colored pencils. In his hands sat a hedgehog unrolled into a comfortable position. The hedgehog, named Sonice but pronounced almost identical to Sonic as a wordplay, was one of Felix’s many emotion pets. It was also the most well-behaved one due to its representation of love, making it harder to trigger the hedgehog into its ten feet high, abominable form. 

Besides you, the twins were also not paying attention to the movie Hyunjin suggested watching before dinner. Han didn’t want to start it because he knew dinner would be ready in the middle, and he would lose all interest in it once dinner was done. Jisung protested against watching it because instead of losing interest, he knew he would start shoving food in his mouth for a quick finish so he could be excused earlier to continue. Either way, the two focused more on decorating Jisung’s arm cast than the movie. 

After taking you to the hospital, the doctors did sutures on some of the deeper cuts you and Jisung sustained during the mission. Your broken fingers were put back into place, and you were given a splint to prevent further injuries. Jisung was fitted for an arm cast after reattaching his hand, which he remembered to get before Changbin could drive to the hospital. Thankfully he remembered, or else he would have to wait a painfully long process for his hand to grow back, from the blood vessels to the skin and bone. 

Instead of escorting him to the department headquarters, the fainted man had to be hospitalized for his injuries before he could be dealt with. Changbin handed him over to the medical staff and returned to check on you three, wanting nothing more to do with him directly while knowing he’s got one hell of a report to write later. 

The spotty burns on your arms were more challenging to deal with. They were less severe than the palm burn you got as they were scattered and covered much smaller surfaces of your skin, but they felt swollen, and they stung. After applying ointments to the spots, the doctors gave instructions on daily cleaning of the wounds and changing the burn dressing. Getting the confirmation that, if the worst case scenario happens, Jisung would be here to take the fall for you, you three were discharged. 

Chan looked up from setting the table when he heard the doorbell. He dropped the napkins and gave a holler into the kitchen that he would get the door. Squeezing his way through the diner chairs, he opened the door to find Jeongin and Seungmin standing outside. He smiled, partially glancing downward to see Jeongin gripping Seungmin’s hand, which would explain the uncomfortable expression on his face. Looking back up, he pursed his lips to avoid asking anything he didn’t care to know the answer to and stepped aside. 

Jeongin took off his shoes and pushed them to the corner with his feet. He had been dreading this moment since he finished the press conference and got news from Changbin that you and Jisung were being treated at the hospital. Changbin didn’t say anything that was not informative, but Hyunjin raged at him through text after hearing about what happened. Hyunjin did not blame him for what happened to you three, but he found it hard not to internalize the event. 

He did send you three there. If he hadn’t done that, this wouldn’t have happened. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Seungmin said with a tug on Jeongin’s hand. “Come on.” 

He hid behind Seungmin as he got dragged to the living room. The noise from the movie was recognizable because he overheard Seungmin watch it on speaker once. You sat on the couch with Hyunjin, the two of you sitting with your legs touching. Shifting his gaze, Han was seated on the floor, focusing on the pencil sharpener in his hands. Moving up, standing off to the side with a glass of water and a colorful arm cast, was Jisung, who stared back at him blankly.

Jisung almost forgot he was going to punch Jeongin’s teeth out. He never meant it anyway. He only said it because he was angry. Setting the glass down on the coffee table, Jisung debated if he should make a joke about that promise until, after he stood up straight, he found Jeongin shuffling toward where he stood. He blinked, confused at the quietness surrounding him and the tiny steps Jeongin seemed afraid to take. When his friend neared, he was further baffled as Jeongin slipped his arms over his body and hugged him tightly. 

Jeongin sniffed back tears at his friend’s solid figure. Knowing that everything had turned out fine and nobody had died because of him gave him a sense of relief. “I’m so sorry, Jisung,” he said, his voice cracking tearfully at Jisung’s name. “I didn’t know this would happen. I’m really sorry.”

“I…” Jisung swallowed a ball of air. He felt a forgiving smile creeping on his face. At the same time, he thought that Jeongin’s apology was ridiculous because it was unnecessary. Reaching an arm up to pat Jeongin’s back, he mused, “I’m still alive.”

Seungmin chuckled from behind, but he kept his smile barely visible until you appeared near him, then it completely flattened. You squinted your eyes up at him, which he purposefully avoided looking into because he was busy counting the burn dressings on your arms. His heart sighed with exhaustion—he really miscalculated this mission, and he would spend most of his time reminding himself of this colossal mistake. He would never show it, but even then, he thought you already knew how he felt, hence why you were next to him. 

“Did everyone make it out of there?” you asked.

Seungmin looked ahead at Jisung and Jeongin. He pulled a face when Jeongin jumped behind Jisung to avoid touching Sonice. Personally, he has never seen its monstrous form before. Jeongin was friends with Felix before they were introduced to each other so he has seen the pet stretch up to ten feet tall, and he swore with his life that he never wanted to see it again. Seungmin was unsure how serious Jeongin was being when he said that. 

“Yes. We called a team down to escort them out,” he responded after a beat. “But those who have been missing are likely all dead.” 

“Yeah, well. We can’t save everyone.” You flattened your lips into a neutral smile. Glancing up at him, you found his expression remained unchanging. You looked away, your fingers fidgeting. “Don’t think too hard about it, Seungmin.”

He stiffened, his eyes softening with an unsheathing wound, knowing you meant yourself and your brothers. Eventually, he gave you a curt nod. “Thanks.” 

Growing up honing his skills to be aloof all the time was no use after years of spending time with all of you. Seungmin wondered if there were certain muscles on his face he didn’t know how to control, making it impossible for him to hide his thoughts. Chan was already good at reading people like a hawk, Han was good at predicting how people felt in general, and Jeongin was his best friend for too long not to know what he was thinking all the time. 

But none of them talked to him the way you spoke to him—brief but, to him, endearing. He chalked it up to his obsession with deep research into people’s God-given abilities, which he did a lot of yours because of its peculiarity. As time passed, even though he knew a great deal about you now, he still found himself looking up things of association to you not for knowledgeable gain but just for consumption. He tried not to think about it. 

Looking over to the couch, Seungmin found Hyunjin staring pointedly at him, his nails flicking against the cushion of his fingers frustratedly. He sneered at himself; Hyunjin annoyed him sometimes. Shifting his eyes, he looked to Felix, the twins, and Jeongin instead. Han kept Sonice in his palm, an affectionate smile on his face while his hand shoved Jisung away from attempting to poke at the pet. Seungmin heaved a long-awaited sigh; the twins were even more annoying. 

Retreating from the wall that separated the living room and the dining area, Chan returned to the table and helped Changbin set down the reheated plate of pork cutlets. “The kids are all here.”

“Yet none of them came to help set the table,” Changbin mumbled through a heaved sigh. 

“That’s okay. I got it covered.” Chan laughed as he waved his hand before his face. “Let them relax.”

Pulling the nearest chair out, Changbin rolled his eyes in defeat as he slumped onto the seat. He wiped his head of sweat that cumulated from the steamed kitchen, and his chest breathed steadily at the recognition of the younger ones’ laughing in the living room. He picked through the voices for you three, listening for your conversations. It has been an eventful day. It felt like he was dangling in the middle of a cliff, clinging onto the fortunate jutting out of a tiny ledge. Even the suffocating air of the kitchen that muffled your voices made him anxious. 

It was a usual silence that filled the air. Changbin rarely spoke, let alone continuing small talks. But Chan knew well this silence was exhausted, but with a calm relief floating around a bottle of emotions he has to bring out of Changbin somehow. Mirroring the veteran’s movement, he picked the chair just across and sat down. He leaned against the slat. This was nothing but a conversation between unlikely friends.

“How are you feeling?” Chan asked.

“Hm?” Changbin’s eyes focused, and he gazed at the man sitting across from him. Gathering his thoughts, he breathed a thoughtful hum and rubbed his hand on his thigh to fill the awkwardness that existed only to him. “Much better now.” 

“I reckon,” Chan huffed out positively. 

“Are you still going to interrogate him?” 

“Yeah, of course! Jeongin volunteered to do it himself, actually, but I thought I should be there just in case,” Chan said, rubbing his nose. “I doubt people will care about what happens to that person, but it’s best to keep the need for damage control to a minimum.” 

Changbin raised his brows at the insinuation of Chan’s words. He pondered a little on Jeongin’s character, quickly pausing as he realized how little he knew about the boy. More often than not, Jeongin was putting up an act as the unit's spokesperson. Even the exaggerated disrespect was, he thought, an act untrue to his nature. Changbin could only catch a glimpse of him being an ordinary boy when his friends were in the same room, which wasn’t a frequent occasion.

“You think he’s going to kill him?”

“I think I can’t underestimate his protectiveness over his friends and his desire to avenge them,” Chan clarified. 

“Well,” Changbin nodded in agreement, “I don’t think he will do anything unnecessary.”

Chan smiled a bit. “Was what you did necessary?”

“Elaborate.”

“I think you know what I’m talking about.”

Changbin tensed up. He knew exactly what Chan was referring to. Prolonging the fight when he could have quickly gone for incapacitation so that he could take out the burning across his knuckles, and pinning a weaker man to a wall to slowly brand an injury identical to the one suffered by a loved one.

“I did what I had to,” Changbin replied.

He was telling the truth. Chan knew merely from the look on his face and perhaps the context of the situation that every bit of violence was necessary not to reach the goal of the mission or to protect anybody but that Changbin needed to release the bottled-up vengeance that would have carried on with him if he never did anything. And he was satisfied with what he did because that was all he did. Years ago, he would have simply killed. As morbid as it was, giving that man a taste of his medicine after he tried to kill his children was already a leap of emotional improvement.

Chan looked ahead, seemingly forming a second opinion. Changbin wasn’t a good father in that he was unskilled at parenting, but he was a good father in that he loved the three of you immensely. In the face of that, he could not bring himself to accuse his friend of anything other than caring about you three so much that he could cut through bones and flesh. And sometimes, he wondered if he would ever do the same.

“I’m gonna go call them to eat,” Chan said as he pushed himself off the chair. He patted Changbin on the shoulder. “You should ask them to sleep over for tonight.”

“Why?” Changbin smiled, confused.

“After what happened today, they’ll feel the safest knowing you’re just down the hall,” Chan said leisurely as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’ll never ask you first. You’re just going to have to take the shame to do it–“ He giggled. “You’re the dad.”

Leaving his side, Chan clapped twice as he jogged into the living room and hollered that dinner was ready. A wave of protest erupted to delay dinner time as, apparently, all of you began to pay attention to the movie. Jisung yelled the loudest when Chan stood in front of the television and snapped his fingers, a look of disapproval you all promptly ignored. 

“You guys–“

“I want everyone at the dinner table on a count of three. One!“

Chan grimaced, then he rolled his eyes in both exasperation and amazement when all of you snapped your heads toward the direction of the dinning room upon Changbin’s nonchalant voice. 

Seungmin shrugged when you tapped his arm furiously. Hyunjin rose from the couch and began meeting you halfway. 

“Two!”

Jisung laughed as he put his hands on Jeongin’s shoulders and shoved the boy with him to the dining room. Felix trailed closely behind, almost tripping on his feet because he was busy putting Sonice in his pocket. Han made a few strides over to you, his brows raised into a smile. Hyunjin and Seungmin both frowned when he grabbed your arm and grinned as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“One!”

“No shortcut for you both,” Han joked before, within a blink of an eye, you two burst into a puff of black feathers and reappeared on top of two vacant chairs in the dining room. He brushed his arm as if to clean them and looked up to find Changbin deadpanning at him. Shrugging, Han said, “We made it in time.” 

Changbin wasn’t even thinking about the countdown. He was more concerned that your clumsy reappearance almost flipped the table of food over.

[atolua]

𖥻  YUEHUA ˒ 𝐞𝐭𝐚.  spring  of  2023

EDITION .. shout out to mama zhang; thank you to papa zhang!

FEATURING .. lua’s teezers ˚ inka cherinsuk ˚ han jisung

CW(S) .. suspicious behavior from the boyfie, inka collects blackmail material  &  existence of cake and twister

MONA SAYS ..  sobs bc i posted this a week too early so pretend you haven’t seen this

at this moment in time, lua is craving for her bed. it can’t be helped; three hours of dance practice really wears a person out. and while the dinner that the girls treated her to was lovely, it barely pulled her energy up.

(but her tummy was happy so she supposes it did do something.)

“thanks for dropping me off,” she tells her manager before stepping out of the car.

while walking to the dorm, she rummages through her bag for her phone. a bit of lua hopes that she finally got a text back from her boyfriend, but it’s crushed by the lack of notifications.

tsk, there goes the rise of her suspicions.

it’s a rarity for jisung to leave her on seen. even when he’s in producer mode, he always sends at least a heart or a selfie.

lua shakes her head, dispelling those thoughts in favor of opening the door to her dorm. not even a foot in and she already feels wary because when has the place ever been this quiet?

is it already that late? she checks the time on her watch—kind of, but there’s usually at least one member who’s trying to keep their keyboard pressing to a minimum volume.

did they go somewhere? no, they’d shoot her a message if they did.. so what the fuck is going on?

“star? min? anyone home?” she cautiously calls out while walking down the hallway. with one hand tightly clutching onto her bag, lua turns toward the living room and blindly searches for the light switch. “i swear it was just here yesterday—”

“surprise!”

the sudden yells elicit the orange haired girl to jump back and drop her bag. when she comes down from her shock, she finally absorbs the scene: her members stand there with wide smiles on their face, party hats atop of their heads, and a red velvet cake in jongho’s hands.

and the best part? they have company.

“inka!” lua throws her arms around her best friend, pulling her in a tight embrace. (it doesn’t matter if she just saw the younger female a couple weeks ago, she still missed her a lot.)

out of the corner of her peripheral view, she sees jisung pouting, arms open wide. “hey.. what about me?”

“wait your turn, it’s not my fault yue loves me more.” inka playfully gloats, causing a river of chuckles to flow through the group.

wooyoung, never the recipient of best in assurance award for a reason, pats the sulking boy’s shoulder and tells him, “you’ll get used to it. we did after frequently hearing her fangirl over sunmi-sunbaenim.”

“don’t forget that for this past month, it’s been hourglass-sunbaenim.”

(yeosang’s another one who has never won that award.)

“alright, that’s enough tattling.” is what lua says once she finally pulls away from her best friend. “so what’s the cake for?”

“to celebrate your birthday, silly!” wooyoung cheers, his antics supported by mingi’s clapping.

“wait, it’s my what?”

this time, seonghwa speaks up. “today’s your birthday. did you not realize that?”

“..no?”

“well i guess we can consider this surprise a success. happy birthday, moonlight.” the eldest male gives her a small hug before stepping back to let san put a party hat on her, along with a greeting. “happy birthday, bambi.”

she pulls him in for a hug too and mumbles, “thank you, sannie.”

the party commences from there. after lua had blown out the candle on her cake (and got icing smeared on her face, courtesy of jisung and wooyoung, who got the same treatment) everyone had scattered across the living room. some were enjoying a slice of cake, a couple were arranging the gifts that had been hidden in the spare room, and others were chatting with the birthday girl.

“so this is why you seenzoned me, hm?” she teases her boyfriend who splutters, the apples of cheeks slowly blossoming into a rosy tint.

yunho laughs at the sight and inputs, “it was quite the scene, he was panicking so much that he almost dropped his phone.“

“i just didn’t wanna ruin the surprise..” jisung weakly defends himself before deciding that hiding his face in the crook of his girlfriend’s neck will save him.

(judging by the keep it pg guys! that wooyoung throws at them, it does the opposite. though the remark yeosang slides in on their behalf kind of soothes the embarrassment.)

everyone appears to be having fun, they’re seemingly enjoying themselves, especially due to seonghwa pulling out the twister game.

“when did hwa even purchase that toy?” she whispers to hongjoong who shrugs his shoulders. “i think we should be more worried about what will happen if mingi has to put a hand or foot on the red circle.”

sure enough, the blonde giant decides to forfeit rather than risk the chance of ripping his favourite joggers.

but lua doesn’t watch much more after that, not when she notices someone missing from all the fun. so after giving her slice to hongjoong, she heads over to the dining table, where inka sits all by herself.

“knock knock~” she raps her knuckles on the surface before taking the seat next to her. noting the small jolt in the younger, lua lightly jokes, “i’m no telepath but i feel like you have something you’d like to tell me.”

inka gives her a small smile. “i was just thinking of how grateful i am that you came to train at jyp. accidentally walking into that practice room was a blessing, and i’m not ever going to take it for granted; not when it gave me you. it doesn’t matter what else life decides to throw at us, i’m always going to be here for you, and i have faith that you’ll do the same for me.”

lua tugs at the sleeves of her cropped cardigan to wipe the tears that fall from her eyes. then she takes her best friend’s hands in hers and promises, “regardless of what happens, or where we find ourselves in the future, i’ll never stop supporting you.”

she quickly swipes away inka’s tears, aware that she doesn’t want the others to see, and pulls her in for another embrace. her hand gently caresses her back, a gesture she’d always do whenever she wanted to comfort her, but didn’t know what words to use.

they stay like that for a little longer before jisung yells out, “i won!”

the two girls decide to vacate the dining room and watch the winner be congratulated by his rivals. seeing as how they didn’t really have a prize, hongjoong concocts an impromptu reward and whispers it to seonghwa.

the older member seems to agree with it, for he smirks slightly. “and now, you shall get a kiss from the birthday girl.”

“huh? but is she okay with that? i mean yeah- yes she is my girlfriend but-” a kiss on the cheeks is all it takes for the blushing male to malfunction.

a click rings through the room, followed by inka mumbling, “saving that for future confidential purposes.”

laughter follows suit again. “alright, next round. winner gets a hug from the birthday girl!“ hongjoong announces, shortly sticking his tongue out at the light smack lua delivers to his arm.

at this moment in time, all lua craves is to have this.. night (or is it considered day?) captured in her memories. because moments like these have energy surging through her body.

and those ten people, the ones who try to keep their balance while intentionally bumping each other, a couple merely spectating while eating cake, plus the one sitting next to her with his hand entwined with hers?

they are one of the reasons she doesn’t regret choosing this life.

❑ TAGLIST  ..   @stealanity​ @ateezivy​ @cixrosie​ @alixnsuperstxr

[wendyyyyyyyy]

"Shaving Cream"

Pairing : Han Jisung x reader

Synopsis : You were shaving his face for him, only that it escalated quick into something straight out of the romance books.

Warning : Kissing, playful remarks but, mostly fluff.

Enjoy!

......

"Hold still," you warned, tilting Jisung's chin up as you carefully glided the razor over his jaw.

He obeyed—for about five seconds. Then, with that mischievous glint in his eyes, he smirked. "You’re really enjoying this, huh?"

You huffed, wiping away a bit of shaving foam from his cheek. "I’m doing you a favor, Han Jisung."

"A favor?" He raised an eyebrow, voice teasing. "Or an excuse to touch my face?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Keep talking and I might just ‘accidentally’ nick you."

He chuckled low and fond, but finally let you work in peace. The bathroom was quiet except for the soft rasp of the razor against his skin, the scent of shaving cream lingering in the air. He watched you the whole time—his dark eyes following every little movement, every little expression, like he was completely mesmerized.

You were so focused that you didn’t notice the way his lips curled, or the way he shifted slightly closer.

Then—he struck.

Before you could react, Jisung lunged in, pressing his lips to yours in a surprise kiss. The sudden contact made you squeak, but before you could even think about kissing back—

Splat.

Your cheeks were now covered in shaving foam.

"Han Jisung!" you gasped, pulling back in shock.

He threw his head back laughing, absolutely delighted with himself. "You should’ve seen your face—"

"You’re ridiculous!"

"Yeah, but you love me." He grinned, completely unbothered, and reached out to smear a bit more foam on your nose for good measure.

You glared, but your lips twitched. "...I do."

He hummed, satisfied, before tugging you back toward him. "Good. Now let me kiss you properly this time—"

"Not until you wash your face, dummy."

[lufyuu]

,,Discipline''

Older military instructor x younger brat male reader

Tw/s: brat taming, dubcon, face fucking, age gap (22&38), sadism, hair grabbing/pulling, punishing themes, light degration and praise.

The room is almost dead quiet if not for the lecture a tall man is giving. Air and people alike both tense. Nobody dares to make a wrong move nor play around. Though, that 'nobody' doesn't include a certain young man who has just barely graduated from college not long ago. Some describe him as a very shameless and lazy man, while others just say he's enjoying life. He'd always be either on his phone or napping all throughout his classes. It seems like it's all he can ever do, even at home. Instead of finding a decent job and finding love like his friends, he only stayed home being a bum living in his parents' basement. This 'routine' continued until he got the sudden news of being enlisted in the military all thanks to his mom, who by this point, had almost given up on her son if not for the neighbors giving advice. They had said their son used to be like hers until they forcefully pushed him into the military. Ever since then, he's been nothing but responsible.

The young man in question is [Name] [L.Name]. The moment you heard you'd go into the military, you got pissed at your mom and locked the door to your bedroom-like basement for a few days. Refusing to eat and talk. This didn't do much other than starve you. The military was unavoidable by this point so, you had no other choice but to depart from home in just a few weeks time.

Today's your second day in the military. Well, you're at the very back of a huge crowd of men in uniforms. They had given everyone a pair of uniform to wear today but honestly, you just threw it on randomly, not even caring if some buttons were left unbuttoned. Somehow, you'd sneaked your phone in. Providing some entertainment as an old man, whom you don't remember the name of, explains the rules and laying out the schedule for your daily life there. You couldn't give less of a fuck. None of this matters anyways, you're going to be out in like what? A few weeks after the training's over. Maybe you'd even get out faster if you show your signature pout to your mom like always.

Scrolling on Twitter, you watch some sex videos without clicking on the video itself. You're a whole creep, but why dwell on it? You've given up on yourself years ago. This doesn't matter all that much. You could even feel yourself getting hard at the sight. You wish you hear them enjoying a good fucking right now. Unfortunately for you and your almost hardened dick, that wouldn't be possible. Even though you sneaked in a phone, you hadn't managed to sneak in a pair of headsets. How unlucky. Your eyes focus on the video, never moving from it even when the man's loud voice pierce through your ears. At the very least, you do know that he's an ex soldier who has fought in one of the many wars that has happened in the past decade. Not that you'd be able to do much with that information. Apparently he came here just to be a substitute as the actual instructor had gotten a serious illness and has a high chance of staying in the hospital for at least a few months, causing him to not be able to come and teach. You'd rather he shut the fuck up though. His loud voice is ruining your mood watching porn. "Jesus can he just shut up", you mumble to yourself, maybe one or two near you heard but not like they'd snitch.

Even in a serious situation, you manage to get hard. Although you're shameless, you're not shameless enough to masturbate infront of all these people. That'd be ridiculous. So, you try to hold yourself back. '10 more minutes...you can hold it' you think to yourself.

You scroll to a particularly sexually arousing video. It shows a man being facefucked roughly. Drool rolling down his chin as he's forced to take it all in, not being able to catch his breath. You can even feel yourself getting harder and harder by the second. You imagine yourself as the one on the receiving end. God how'd amazing it would be to have another man's cock down your throat like that, fucking it and putting you in your place. Just the thought of it is enough to make you twitch.

You hover your finger over the video and just as you're about to scroll. Thump! "I'm so sorry—", the man next to you who had just bumped your dominant hand on accident is silenced by the very loud sound of moaning and slurping coming from your device. You instantly freeze. Not daring or even able to move to close the video. All eyes are now on you as you're the source of the very out of place noises. Heck, you somehow notice the instructor stopping dead in the middle of his lecture just to stare at you through the crowd. Your eyes are still wide as you try your best to salvage what's left or your ego by closing the app entirely. Almost dropping it in the process. "Fuck..", you let out after holding in your words for a few seconds. You're so done for. With that, people begin to whisper just beside you as you can do nothing about it. The room gets noisier and noisier by the second until eventually...

"Silence."a manly and fierce voice commands. It sets the whole mood of the room as everyone turns to face the man in front of them, tense. You could do nothing but follow their move. "Today's lesson is over. Everyone may leave in an orderly fashion.", his tone leaves no room for complaints as everyone leaves quietly, shoulders tense. With you being last in line, he stops you before you even get the chance to make it halfway to the exit. "Not you, young man.", even though your brain tells you to leave, every single part of your body stops, not being able to get out of the dangerous situation. You only stood still as he went over to close the door. When he turns back, you can see his badge and finally identify him as Han Minho. Almost everything comes back to you. He's the soldier who played a crucial part in stopping the war 20 years ago. Here he is now, in the flesh, looking at you with almost a glare.

"You do know why I'm holding you back, don't you?", it's a question yet his tone doesn't seem like one. It's more of getting you to admit your guilt. Though, there's no way you'd admit something like that. "No", you try to avoid his gaze by looking elsewhere and distracting yourself with the walls and floors. He can only sigh at your refusal to admit what you'd done. As he reaches over to his desk to grab something, you take the opportunity to sprint to the door—anndd you're pinned to it. So much for getting out the door, you're not trapped between the door and Minho. You shouldn't have underestimated his strength and agility even for a second as that caused this. "And where do you think you're going? I don't remember letting you off", he hovers over you, you practically have to tilt your head up a bit just to be face to face with the man.

The room remains dead silent for another 10 seconds until Minho finally breaks it. "Give me your phone", he demands, holding his hand out to take it away from you. "That's my property, why should I give it to you?", you try to push him off with your phone still in your hands. He snatches it away and even when you try to grab it back, he has enough ability to keep you away. Seeing as you have a password set, he decides to grab your dominant hand and use your finger to unlock the phone. You tried resisting but of course his strength is outmatched. He immediately goes to your twitter page, finally finding the source of the disturbance in his lecture.

"...so. This, is what you've been up to during my lecture.", he stares at the video, hardly impressed. He looks back at you, "you got turned on by this?", he clealy spots your arousal under those uniform pants. He's merely pointing it out. You shake your head no once more, can't he just let you go already..."Darling, even I have a bigger one", he seems to be pointing out the fact that his dick size is bigger compared to the guy getting sucked off in the video. You scoff, the dick in the video's at least 5-6 inches, what is he even on. "Alright old man, I'm just going to head out with my phone", you try to take the phone out of his hand as he holds it near you uet to no avail. His grip doesn't waver as you try to pry the phone out of his hand. "I don't recall asking you to head back?", his eyes are oh so intimidating as he stares into yours. In a split second, he manages to pull you infront of the desk. "Get on your knees", he lets a chilling smile spread on his face. A smile that sends shivers down your spine, your knees getting weaker by the second. You still refuse and try to put on a brave face which only frustrates Minho more. "Unless you want me to spread this? I can assure you, anything that comes out of my mouth will be spreading like wildfire.", he shakes your phone a bit. He isn't wrong nor exaggerating. Anything coming out of his mouth is bound to reach the ears of your parents and maybe even close friends. You can't let that happen!

Reluctantly, you get on your knees infront of him. You look up at his tall figure, wondering what he wants or even gain from this. His hands reach over to his zipper as he slowly and teasingly zip it down. "W-wait!", you try to stop his hands by overlapping them with yours. He waits for you to continue your sentence yet you cant find the words to express what you want. "Why are you hesitating? Isn't this what you want? You're already hard", he points out your hard-on, straining against your pants. You can't respond to it as it is true you're hard and needy. With a simple yank, your hands fall back on the ground as he finishes undoing his pants. He slips his hard and long dick out. It's very close to your face, hell, it even almost slapped you. After a few seconds, you could tell his dick is definitely bigger than the one you had just seen a couple minutes ago. "What? Cat got your tongue?", he has a smug expression on his face due to how quiet you became. "Why don't you take care of my cock if you have nothing else to do?", he raises his eyebrows as his eyes lower into an intimidating gaze. "And don't use any teeth", rather than a request, it felt more like a threat. You put your hands around his cock and start to slowly lick the head ever so slightly. Not having prior experience in sucking nor licking cock, you do such a bad job at it that it gets a yawn from the man whose hard cock you're tending to. "Is that the best you can do? At least try putting half of it in your mouth", you try your best to fit half of his cock in but of course it's a bit hard. When it is in, you begin to suck and lick his cock. Trying to ignore the fact you feel like you're about to choke if you keep it in any longer.

"That's better, good boy", he praises and calls you a pet name. He takes out your phone and begins to record you sucking his cock. For a few seconds, you don't notice ad you're too focused on sucking his dick. When you do notice, you try to back off and remove his cock from your mouth. This ends up with him grabbing your hair and pulling you back, taking his whole cock in your mouth, the tip of your nose touching his happy trail. Your face contort in a mixture of gagging and somewhat pain. You so desperately want to get his dick out of your mouth but he keeps your head firmly there. Not moving at all for maybe 5 seconds. Even when he does let you move, it's just him guiding you back and forth. Your hair is super messy now due to him gripping it so hard, thrusting his hips into you, making you take it in your throat. "You're doing such a great job...ah...", he grunts and moans. The hand holding your phone is very still, making sure to get the best view of his dick going in and out your mouth.

You can even taste some of his precum in your mouth. Both of you can tell he's close to his climax. The way he thrusts faster and faster gives it all away. All you can do is hope that he cums faster. As his grunts and moans get louder, his hand almost loses grip on the phone. "Agh..ah..'m cumming..don't swallow,,agh yet!", cum starts to pour into your mouth, a lot of it. It almost overflows and due to your mouth being wide open, some of it drips on the ground in-between the two of you. You close your eyes as you can feel the warm liquid enter. When Minho pulls away, there was a sticky string that connected his cock to your mouth. He pants while you try your best to close your mouth without swallowing any. "Look at me", you look up at him as his fingers part your lips without using any force. It reveals your mouth full of his cum. Finishing the recording, he takes a picture of your face with his cum dripping out your mouth before telling you to "swallow."

He eventually returns your phone back to you after tidying himself up. "Clean up this mess you've made. I expect you to be on your best behavior next time." He walks past you towards the door. "If not, there will be more where that came from", he doesn't even look at you as he says those words. Only letting a little chuckle and walking away, the door closing as he does, leaving you all alone with cum all over the floor and your phone.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

A couple of months later, you find yourself making more and more friends. They aren't your close friends in any way but it's nice having a handful of people to talk to as you go through the intensive training together. Ever since the incident, you find yourself avoiding the mistake you had made before. Fortunately, you manage to keep your phone on you rather than having it confiscated by Han Minho. Even though you never notice, Minho has always been paying more attention to you than others. Perhaps he's trying to catch you on your phone once more for another round. Regardless, whatever the reason is, you're oblivious to it.

Your routine stays the same. It's the same old routine for everyone there anyways. Get up at 5AM, get ready and have a bit of breakfast before the morning training. Have a few hours to yourself where everyone's free to do anything they would like. Then it's lunchtime before going back to training.

The cafeteria is busy due to everyone flocking to it in order to fill their empty stomachs. The sound of people chstting away, muttering and even whispering to one another, fills the whole room. You take a seat next to one of your buddies. "How'd you guys sleep?", you ask, trying to start a conversation before biting down on your sandwich. The whole incident behind you. "Eh, I've slept better nights", one answers that starts a chain reaction of people agreeing. You can see where they're coming from. The whole training's tiring not to mention boring. The table's silent for a moment until someone perks up. "Hey! I know what we should do!", he looks at everyone with anticipating eyes. Everyone, including you, look at him confusingly. "We should have a little fun before going to bed, that'll make us sleep better and not be bored", he recommends excitedly. You all looks at one another before nodding. "Sounds like an idea but...what should we do?", you tilt your head to which he replies with a smug expression.

The clock tick tocks as it points at 22:48. It's usually when people are already sleeping after a long day of training. But not you and your friends though. You're all wide awake sitting on the floor with a water bottle. It's just the beginning of the game your friend had suggested. It's a bit tense due to the fact everyone's sacred of being caught, especially if it's by the Han Minho. He's scarier than everyone in the training combined. Once he says something, everyone shuts up and listens or at the very least keep up the act of listening even is they aren't. "Let's whisper for now, what if he's out on patrol in the hallways..we'll be absolutely fucked", the man next to you, Tae, suggests. As he says this, he leans into the middle in order for everyone to hear and raising his right hand at the side of his mouth. Everyone nods in agreement as the game starts quietly and slowly.

"Joon, truth or dare?", Tae starts the game, pointing at the friend sitting across from the two of you. He pauses for a moment and proceeds to pick 'truth'. It's what anyone would pick, really. Tae doesn't hesitate to ask him a question. It seems as if he's been holding this in for a while. "Is it true that your dad's a close friend of Han Gyogwan-nim?", Joon shares the same energy as he immediately nods excitedly. "Yeah! And you guys wanna know something?", he gathers everyone while leaning into the circle. Everyone does the same as he gossips, "I heard he used to have a wife before she left him", some chuckle while others look in disbelief, "how come? He's honestly kinda...", another person in the group, Jaehyun, chimes in. Insinuating that their instructor's good-looking which isn't entirely false. "I'm not quite sure", Joon backs away from the gathering, "something about not being able to get it up", now everyone's snickering, someone as intimidating as him, not being able to get hard? What a joke. Well, it sounds like a joke to you anyway. If he isn't able to get it up, how the fuck was he stuffing your mouth with cock and cum just a few months back?

Moving on from the first question, everyone gets a bit more comfortable now that Joon's revealed a secret of their oh so intimidating 'boss.' Hell, they don't even try to be quiet anymore, some talking in their normal voice and some even outright laughing loudly. Thankfully for everyone in the room, Han Minho isn't around to hear their loud noises.

It's been a couple rounds since the first. Everyone knows to be as quiet as possible while still having fun. "Spin it!", you nudge a guy next to you. Tae bends to spin the bottle in the middle of the circle. It spins for a bit before stopping at you. "[Name]! Truth or dare", he turns to ask you to which you confidently reply with "dare of course", with a cheeky grin. They all begin to discuss on what to dare you to do. "Go commando until tomorrow", as Tae says that, they all begin to laugh. To you, it's nothing major. You've done that a couple times in the past anyways, it's quite comfortable.

1:20AM...

2:41AM...

3:00AM.

Remembering you all have to wake up at 5 and also the fact that everyone's tired as shit, you along with the others head to bed and close the very dim light source, leaving the room almost pitch dark. You're so comfortable that in just seconds of closing your eyes, you fall into a deep sleep.

Maybe too deep of a sleep due to the fact you don't wake up in time for training. Nobody came in to fetch any of you which is quite strange to say the least but none of you minded due to the fact you're all catching up on some good old sleep. Even when it's already 5:20, not a single soul in that room is awake. Some are snoring, some are quiet, some even have their blankets thrown onto the ground. You're alnost sprawled out on the mattress with drool escaping from your mouth.

The ever so dark room is then pierced by the door opening. A tall figure appears at the doorway. The sudden light wakes up a few, with them rubbing their eyes and yawning as if they aren't 20 minutes late. "Hm? What time is it", your friend asks, still yawning and adjusting his eyes to see who it is that has woken them up. "Get. Up.", his eyes meets the glaring ones belonging to Han Minho. Their instructor. This immediately wakes them up, checking the time and seeing it's way past when they're supposed to get up. Even when they're still sleepy, they fight the urge to go back to bed and instead pick themselves up, practically sprinting outside, past Minho. Most of them went out. All but one [Name] who is still sleeping soundly, probably dreaming of...dirty things. Turning the dim lights on, the man steps closer and closer to your still sleeping figure. Your peaceful face contrasts his dissapointed and frustrated one. He pulls off your blanket roughly. Due to the fact you're having a wet dream and how you're not wearing any underwear, your erection can be seen clearly by the older man.

Not long after, lustful noises coming from you can be heard. 'Even in your dreams, you're still a horny bastard.', is what Minho thinks of. Though, he can't deny that your beautiful noises have made him hard. He still thinks of that incident every single day. Hell, he even jerks off to the thought of it every night. Without someone to satisfy his needs, he resorts to you and the thought of you.

God all he wants to do right now is flip you over and fuck you senseless but he must keep his composure as best he can. You're asleep afterall. Using his index finger and thumb, he reaches over to pinch your cheek, hard. This wakes you up almost immediately, it really hurted! "Ow ow!", you push his hand away as you open your eyes. Sitting up, you rub your cheek as your eyes try to focus and see who it was that did this to you. "Han Gyogwan-nim!?", you yell outloud, shocked at the man's presence. He shuts his eyes in annoyance. "Be quiet, you're going to alert the others", you look at him in confusion, "do you want me to help with your little problem over there?", he vaguely points at your 'problem'. You look at the direction he's pointing at and realizes you're hard...but so is he.

He notices as you oogle at his clothed cock which is straining against his pants. "How about we help each other out?", he suggests, putting a knee on the soft mattress. Eventually, he's in between your legs, face just inches away from yours. Blush covers your whole face. You don't know what to do. What could you do..?

His body slightly brushing your already hardened cock makes you even more tense and aroused. He presses his lips onto yours.

You instinctively put your hands on his shoulders, wanting to push him away but at the same time, melting into the kiss. You stay there, conflicted as his hands trail closer and closer to your pants. The only piece of clothing protecting your bare ass from the rough man. Just as you're getting used to this..position, the door almost swings open. With all your strength, you catch Minho off guard and shove him into your blanket. Thankfully for the both of you, by the way the door is facing, the large lump in your blanket isn't too noticeable, you can brush it off as you just sitting up.

Joon stands in the doorway, making a loud noise as he calls out for you, "[Name]! Quick! Didn't Han Gyogwan-nim come here to wake you up too!? We're going to be dead by the time we get to the training grounds!", he is about to approach you when you stop him. "Please sta—! aGH."

From inside your blanket, you can feel a certain man's fingers reaching their way into your boxer-less pants. Reaching behind and fondling; gropping your ass as it searches for your hole. You gasp at the action. In just a few seconds, his finger is already plunging itself into your tight hole. "[Name]..? Are you okay? Sick?", Joon asks with a worried look but also confused. You put your hand up to your mouth, muffling out any unintentional sound that might come out of your mouth. "U-uh..ye-yes, I am..", you agree with him. He sighs, "I'll inform Han Gyogwan-nim, eat the medicine over by the cabinet, he might might not agree to let you off scot free the next time you miss training..", little does he know, that 'Gyogwan-nim' is currently 2 fingers deep in your hole, twisting and turning inside you to find your prostate. You can only sit there and take it as you should. You really wsnt to bury your face into the pillow right now in order to properly conceal your facial expressions from Joon but that's not possible at the moment. One wrong move and who knows what Minho might do.

"Do you have a fever?", he steps closer once more, this time, too close for comfort. Coincidentally, at this moment, Minho finds your prostate, making you jerk in pleasure, "aH..!", you shut your eyes, biting on the inner part of your lip while stopping Joon with your hand. Signaling a stop with it. "Are you sure you're okay...? You're really weird right now man", "p-please give me some time...", you can barely hold in the noises you so badly want and need to let out. Joon eventually walks away with a weirded out look. He'll get over it soon.

The door closes behind Joon and you can feel Minho's fingers getting faster and faster. In and out of your hole, trying to get you to cum. You throw your head back, closing your eyes and finally letting out those moans Minho's been wanting to hear for so long. Though, just as you're about to cum, Minho stops as if he knew you would. Your breath hitches and you look back to face the man who has just removed his fingers out of you. His expression displays sadism. It's clear that he loves seeing you like this more than anything. "We can't have you cumming that fast now can we? It'll be no fun", he starts to remove his belt and then pants until he reaches his boxer. You can only watch him impatiently, wanting his cock deep inside you already and so does he.

Once his dick is freed from the clothing covering it, he wastes no time and flips you over on your belly. "Ass up", he commands and by whatever readon, your body feels compelled to do what's told. With your ass facing him, he plunges his fat cock into you. If it weren't for you pushing him a bit with your hand reaching back, it would have already gone deep inside you. Fortunately, it's only halfway there. He chuckles knowing his cock is too big for you to even handle. Neither one of you knows whether it'll fit or not. "Fuck..", he curses as he feels your hole squeezing his cock. Oh how long has he been waiting for this feeling. To be inside of you. He can't wait anymore. Even with you putting your whole strength into trying to keep him in place, he can overpower you quite easily. With a simple push, his cock slides in all the way in, balls deep. You can feel your eyes roll back, trying to form a coherent word. You've never taken anything this big before, especially not in your ass. Minho looks absolutely satisfied. Words can't explain the amount of pleasure he feels and will be feeling in a few seconds. "T-too big...", finally being able to talk just a few words, you state the obvious. You can even see his cock bulging just a bit above your belly button. It's too much.

"I'm going to move now", he immediately gets to it. Thrusting in and out, moving his hips. Your poor hole is sure to be thoroughly stretched after this. Your warn insides welcoming his cock by squeezing so tight, almost not wanting to let go. You don't contain your loud moans, letting them all out. It's like music to Minho's ears, to know you're enjoying every bit of it just like he is. He groans due to how tight you are. You bury your face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of moans due to it being the morning, not to mention the door being unlocked. If someone were to enter the door right now, they'd be face to face with you and your hole being stuffed full of cock.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud. Afterall, Minho is being extra rough with you. Maybe he's punishing you, or, he could be rewarding himself with you due to how long he's held back the urge to just pound you infront of everyone during training. His thrusts get faster and faster until you think it's inhumanly possible for him to be fucking you this hard. Your moans and yells are muffled by the soft pillow. One hand has a firm grip on your waist while the other gropes your ass, loving the feeling of your squishy and soft skin. "You love this don't you, [Name]", he chuckles in between breaths, a smirk on his face as he knows you can't reply. You can feel your mind go blank as he moves his hips. Your hands can only tightly hold the sheets and blanket next to you.

"Agh..Take my seed like a good boy..!", his voice shaky, clearly about to reach his limit. As he thrusts back in, his cum fills your insides. He stays there with his dick inside you as it pumps all his cum deep inside of your hole. At the same time, you also manage to cum, splurting all over the mattress. Coating the off white sheets with your thick cum. You pant, catching your breath, not able to process anything in your cock filled head. Minho places a hand over your stomach, holding you up and to make sure his cock is still inside as he leans down on your back, also trying to catch his own breath. "Good boy, you took me so well", you turn to look at him. His satisfied expression and even more satisfied cock.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"Everyone, listen up.", the manly voice commands the whole room. Everyone stands up straight, paying attention on the owner of said voice. "I will not tolerate anyone else being late. Once the clock hits 5AM, I expect all of you to already be here.", he walks around infront of the perfect lines. His gaze is sharp. He allows no room for jokes. You stand at the very front of one of the lines. Occasionally, his eyes meet yours. Everytime you do meet eyes, there's a slight smirk on his face. Unnoticeable by everyone but you. You can't just ignore it. The both of you know why he's in such a good mood.

"This is the last time I'll tolerate any of you being late. There will be severe consequences the next time someone is. Understood?", Minho glares at the crowd. "Understood!", they all say in unision. He nods in approval. "Very well then. Today, everyone will get more rest, and we will begin training tomorrow.", he dismisses the whole training, leaving everyone confused as he walks back into his office. Everyone looks around in astonishment. Tae and Joon immediately go up to you. "Are you feeling better? Thank the heavens Han Gyogwan-nim decided to be nice today. What's that about anyways???", Joon asks with a confused look, just like any other soldier in training.

"Why're you so tense?", Tae points out as you don't have time to answer Joon's questions. You avoid eye contact as it gets a bit awkward. How could you not be when you have so much cum inside of you right now? Cum which belongs to none other than Han Minho. This is your punishment, he wants to see how long you'll last before you come crawling to him again for more cock. "N-no reason!", "relax!", Tae pats you on the back. You accidentally unclench and feel his cum dripping down inside your long pants. Who knows, maybe someone will notice. Maybe that someone will be a certain instructor. You're in for a long day and night.

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I hope you all like him! I don't have a lot to say about this man since it's almost 4am for me and I need sleep...

Please dont mind typos/grammar mistakes, I didn't have enough time to check the whole thing cuz I wanted to release it before going to sleep🥲

[acidinduceddaydreams]

Skz ot8 corrupting reader౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

Synopsis: ot8 corrupting innocent crybaby reader slowly but surely.

Warnings: corruption kink; innocent reader being bullied in some parts by the members, dacryphilia but not really , deep throating of ice cream. Mean skz. Reader is not a child. She is an adult!!!

Part 2

Innocent reader who doesn’t like horror movies but watches it anyway because Hannie told her to.

The movie is not even halfway and your screams are already prevalent. You try to muffle your cries against Jeongin’s arm but he isn’t having it. “Stop crying you’re ruining my shirt.”

Seungmin making fun of you for crying and how you made Chan change the movie because you’re too scared. “Can you shut up now. Your whimpers are so fucking annoying.”

Minho who bullies you once you’re settled again into crying more because it secretly or not so secretly turns them on. “Wow! The crybaby finally shut up.” “Oh don’t get upset, you can’t help it if you’re a loser and a crybaby it’s just who you are.”

Felix who acts as if he’s calming you down from the taunting of your other friends when in reality he’s just trying to make it worse. His voice is low and condescending. “Leave the poor thing alone you guys.” “She’s just a baby trying to act like an adult, but don’t worry baby you don’t have to pretend with us.”

Hyunjin who buys ice cream for everyone on a hot summer day. Everyone else’s is in a cup or arch-shaped but yours just happens to be long and phallic shaped. Not that you even notice or would know what that means.

Changbin who ‘accidentally’ nudges your arm just a little as he goes to sit next to Hyunjin causing you to choke on the ice cream and let out a gagging sound along with coughing and glassy eyes having never had something go that deep before. “Sorry, pretty my arm slipped.”

Han who ‘helps’ you pick out clothing to wear when you go out with them. You’re standing in your closet picking out things you think he’d like. He tells you that he doesn’t mind you changing in front of him and that all friends do it. Not that you need much convincing you’re just too busy trying to look pretty. “Wow honey. You look wonderful in that sundress. Though I think it’s too long.”

Chan who has a hand on you wherever you go. Walking in a crowd? He’s holding your hand. Talking to someone? His hand on your waistline should give them the hint. You’re in your head about something? It’s ‘normal’ for friends to wrap their hands around each other’s throat to ground them.

Minho who heard from Hannie that you wear hello kitty, my melody and other childish underwear. Laughing as he mocks you. “Wow Y/n how old are you, huh?” “Do you want a pacifier while you’re at it.” He can’t help himself. Your voice trying to defend yourself is barely audible only coming out in whimpers. “Wow, kitten you do you know you have to grow up someday, right?”

Seungmin tugging on your two plaits whenever he wants. “Ow Minnie why’d you do that?” “Sorry puppy it’s a force of habit.”

Jeongin who puts a finger in your mouth to soothe you after all the tears. You’ve never needed to have something to stop you from crying but now it’s automatic. As soon as the tears fall you’re begging for his fingers or thumb. “you want my fingers in your mouth. Wow sweetheart you’re so silly. Do you know they have pacifiers for this exact situation? Maybe I should get you one to really shut you up hmm.” “No, you don’t want one? Well then that means you’ll just have to learn to stop talking back or you won’t even get my fingers.”

All of the boys who make fun of you for closing your eyes when a somewhat steamy scene comes on in the movie they purposefully picked but you don’t have to know that. Sitting on Minho’s lap covering your eyes does something to them. The scenes usually aren’t even that sexual. It’s usually just the two main characters kissing. Seungmin is obviously the first one to pipe up saying between laughs “Wow Y/n they’re just kissing.” “Yeah” Felix’s adds. “Would you like us to show you how so you’re not shy next time.”

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Dad!skz texts overload🥰🤍

Definitely been in a dad!skz brainrot lately so why no just give in a little more🙃 also you guys seem to like dad!han and dad!leeknow imagines a lot which makes me extremely happy I am so soft for them💖

ALSO WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE 1200K+ OF YOU READING ME ON HERE?? 😭😭

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line🖤

[tazahan]

More delulu scenario interaction between Bi han and my OC part 7 (she discovered Lin Kuei's betrayal and their cyber initiatives in the middle of the night)

[estellan0vella]

Inheritance of Love│Han Jisung

- Choi Emma, a 24 year old Professor's Assistant at Stanford University is happily in a relationship with her 26 year old boyfriend, a man who she believes is a businessman who works with international clients but when she is invited to his friend's wedding as his plus one in Seoul, Emma finds out everything she thought she knew about her boyfriend was wrong (Heavily Inspired by Crazy Rich Asians the movie) (Very few SMAU bits but mostly written)

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader (reader is named Emma)

Uploading Schedule: Will Be All Over The Place

Chapter length will vary from 1.5K words to 5K

Character Information

Chapter One: Don't Fight Fate Chapter Two: A Man Should Know Fear Chapter Three: Chaotic Boyfriend Energy Chapter Four: It's About Principle Chapter Five: Heaven On Earth Chapter Six: Embrace The Magic Chapter Seven: It's A Goddamn Empire Chapter Eight: Queen Of The Wolves Chapter Nine: Went Down Fighting Chapter Ten: I'm Han fucking Jisung! Chapter Eleven: The Codfather Chapter Twelve: Eighth Wonder Of The World Chapter Thirteen: Long May You Reign

Taglist: @ot8girlfie @fackeraccount @sellomaybe @nightmarenyxx

@rhonnie23 @reimaybeidk

TAGLIST IS OPEN

[thewinter-eden]

psycho | han jisung (19/20)

19 : all over soon

Pairings: HAN JISUNG x OC | LEE MINHO x 2nd OC

Rating: mature

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and wattpad under alone-at-last.

Warnings: discussions of murder, torture, rape, pregnancy

psycho masterlist Comment a request to be tagged! Only 1 more chapter!

< last chapter | next chapter >

It’s Christmas. There’s no snow, but it’s cold enough to necessitate the thorough and stifling bundling of long under-layers, thick sweaters, padded jackets, gloves, scarves, and hats. The ground is frozen solid in Cass’s family’s front yard, and the sidewalks downtown are sprinkled with salt.

The knock sounds at the front door a little after noon, and Cass’s father rises from his armchair, presses a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head, and goes to answer. He already knows who it is.

The young police officer who gave up his time, health, and livelihood to rescue his daughter and four other girls from captivity is a more than welcome guest in the Young house. When he swings the door open with a weathered grin, Minho stands there, as expected, with a bundle of gifts in arm.

“Good afternoon, sir. Merry Christmas.” Minho plucks a package from the top of his collection and holds it out to Mr. Young. “Fresh chestnuts from town, in case you don’t get a chance to visit the stalls tonight.”

Cass’s father accepts the treats gladly, welcoming Minho in with an approving pat to the officer’s shoulders. “Merry Christmas. The missus and I will likely be staying in tonight, so I appreciate you bringing this. You’re all going to the festival tonight, then?” He leads the way further into the house.

Food stalls, seasonal trinkets, live music, and Christmas lights await the new group of friends downtown, and Minho nods pleasantly. “I’m just here to pick up Cass and drop some of this off.”

The first person he sees isn’t Cass, but her mother, who steps out of the kitchen to greet him. He gives her a jar of spiced mulled wine and a loaf of fresh—still warm—bread, both from the festival stalls. She accepts them like they’re precious treasures and beckons him into the family room.

That’s where his eyes finally fall on Cass, and his breath is robbed from his lungs.

She’s two months recovered from the tunnels, and she now more resembles the girl in her missing persons poster than she does the emaciated victim whom he carried to the ambulance. Her cheeks are fuller and delicately rouged, bringing attention to her wide and sparkling eyes that capture him where he stands.

She’s working her hands into a pair of gloves that look brand new, and it gives him the chance to admire the way her dark red sweater makes her features pop like she’s been airbrushed on a magazine cover.

A conversation from nearly a year ago returns to his mind, regarding his photograph and her photograph and someone running directly into a tree. He doesn’t remember who was fawning over whom, but right now he’s a hundred percent certain that the person at risk of crashing into a tree is him.

“Will you be warm enough?” Cass’s mother asks, glancing with concern at her daughter’s skirt and thick black tights.

Cass reaches up to fluff her curls and then kneels to tie the laces of her winter boots. “I’ve got my sweater, don’t worry.”

Minho and Mr. Young clear their throats at exactly the same time, and both women’s eyes slide to them in surprise.

“Alright,” Cass amends. “I’ll wear my long coat.”

While she finishes getting ready, Mr. Young cheerfully turns to Minho and inadvertently interrupts the way that the officer is all but blushing as he notices the adorable matching white pom-poms dangling from Cass’s gloves and boot socks.

He’d never thought he’d be standing in the twinkling light of the Young’s Christmas tree, falling all over himself at how cute Cass is.

He lets Mr. Young distract him before he can scoop her into his arms in front of her entire family.

“You got your gun?” Mr. Young always asks. Whether it’s the friends going to a movie or grabbing coffee or going to the library, he always asks. Beneath his teasing exterior, he’s terrified of losing his daughter again. It’s hard enough to let her leave the house, even with her new friends whom he loves so much, but he has to, so he does.

A laughing smile breaks out on Minho’s face. “I’m off-duty, sir.” He says, as he always does.

He’s already predicted the responding frown, and he smiles again. He knows where the joke comes from, and shares the concern, especially since Cain has still yet to be apprehended.

He doesn’t have to tell Mr. Young that his off-duty pistol is always firmly clipped to his belt under his jacket, that Cass will never be taken again.

“Alright.” Cass grabs her purse and presses a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “We’re off.”

There’s a flurry of ‘stay safe!’ and ‘have fun!’ and ‘merry Christmas!’ and then Cass and Minho find themselves outside in the brisk winter air. As soon as the door closes, he turns to Cass, eyes narrowed.

She steps away warily, expression twisting to match his. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

His hands reach out and for a second she panics, but then his hands are pulling her jacket closed and buttoning it beneath her chin. “Just a sweater,” He scoffs.

She rolls her eyes, letting herself be jerked by his movements, wincing as he almost buttons a lock of her hair into her jacket, and crosses her arms. “What’s the point of dressing up if I have to cover the whole thing with a big ugly coat?”

“A big warm coat,” He corrects.

She shivers as both of his hands slide around the back of her neck and lift her hair out from under her collar.

Then his smile turns cheeky as he offers her his arm. “And I already saw your outfit, so you can keep the jacket on for the rest of the night.”

They head for downtown to meet up with the others, all while Cass gives a mocking laugh. “Who says I was dressing up for you? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to spend the rest of the night with your friends cloaked in this wool monstrosity.”

Minho comes to an abrupt stop, which jerks her back on her heels as a result. “My friends?” He repeats in disbelief. “Which one of my friends are you dressing up for?”

It can’t be Seungmin, thank god.

The man doesn’t even acknowledge a female who isn’t Anna at this point.

Cass cackles with victory, and pulls a now sour Minho along behind her. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

He doesn’t argue, but his brow is furrowed and mouth firmly pressed as he allows himself to be tugged down the street.

The others soon come into view, waiting outside of Felix’s bookshop. They’re all there, looking like a Christmas card. Felix and Hyunkin bundled in sleek black clothes, Anna in a pretty—and warm—green and black outfit, with Seungmin kicking at the sidewalk salt in dark blue.

Minho’s narrow eyes are pinned on Felix and Hyunjin, waiting for one of them to look too happy at Cass’s arrival.

They all seem to notice the approaching two at the same time. Anna and Cass instantly migrate to each other, already scheming about how to find the drinks stalls, and whether they should go for hot cocoa first or cider, while Minho sizes up his male friends.

“Hey,” Seungmin greets. “It’s about time you showed up—why do you look like that?”

Minho doesn’t bother to hide his scowl, but he turns away from the confused stares of Felix and Hyunjin and goes after the girls who are already halfway down the street.

The Christmas market is bustling with people, and the entire street smells like apple pie and nutmeg and the richest chocolate Cass has ever smelled. She heads straight for the closest cocoa stall, itching to get her hands around a warm cup of creamy chocolate.

Before she can pay, a gloved hand bumps hers out of the way and gives money to the vendor.

Minho is staring down at her, still looking miffed from earlier.

Cass doesn’t comment on it. “But you didn’t get anything.”

He just tucks his hands into his pockets and lifts an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to answer his original question.

She doesn’t.

She accepts her cocoa from the vendor with a cheery thank you and scoots away from Minho before he can ask again. She finds Anna at a stall selling ornaments designed by local high school students.

The younger girl has found an ornament that looks like one of her new kittens, and she’s instantly in love with it. Cass hovers while Anna purchases the ornament, and then walks with her back to the guys. They’re deciding what to get for dinner and where to eat it, and when Minho takes the lead on the conversation and leaves with Felix to get everyone’s food, Cass seizes her chance to shuck off her outer coat.

She places it on the bench of the picnic table that they’ve claimed, and invites Anna to sit on it with her. Hyunjin and Seungmin sit across from them, cupping their own hot drinks.

“The two of you look like Christmas.” Hyunjin says with a grin, pointing out Cass’s red sweater and Anna’s green. “It’s cute.”

And, as fate would have it, that’s when Minho returns, laden with trays of food. Felix is behind him with more food, completely oblivious to why Minho is suddenly scowling through the light of the giant Christmas tree in the square. He sets the food down, dividing it up by order, and quietly sits next to Seungmin.

Anna shoots Cass a look, eyebrows raised in confusion.

The older girl just shakes her head with a smile. She’s no longer nervous about her plans for the evening. Minho’s reaction to her not-so-innocent teasing has been enough to fill her with reassurance.

She’ll let him stew a little bit longer.

The friends tuck into the assortment of food, and soon their table is booming with Felix and Seungmin’s voices and Hyunjin’s laughter. Minho stays quiet, his eyes switching between the food on his tray to Cass’s face when Hyunjin speaks.

He knows he’s being ridiculous, that she was teasing him, but then he’ll see her smile and giggle at his friends, and his stomach twists all over again.

When dinner is over, they get up to explore the stalls. Anna and Cass take off, arm in arm, while the guys trail behind, lost in their own conversations.

Minho’s plan for the evening has completely evaporated. He was going to have her on his arm all night long, and he wasn’t going to let her pay for a single thing. Then, at the end of the evening, as they’re walking through the Christmas lights, he would finally, finally kiss her.

But now his eyes turn to Hyunjin where the younger man is obliviously cackling at something Felix said, not even paying attention to the supposed object of his desires.

Frustrated, Minho tucks his hands into his pockets and kicks at the sidewalk. He watches Seungmin buy the scarf that Anna was just fondling, tucking it in his jacket to give her later.

Minho rolls his eyes.

The last thing he’d expected was for his younger partner to be successful in love before he was. His eyes slide back to Hyunjin.

The guy isn’t even looking at Cass.

He glances at Cass.

She’s already watching him, but quickly hides her face behind Anna when she realizes she’s been caught, and goes back to examining a selection of Christmas cookies.

Understanding dawns on Minho at long last.

A slow grin curls his lips as he kicks himself.

He’s so dumb.

Making his way over to the girls, he slips himself into the space beside Cass and leans in to speak at a whisper. “You win.”

She fights another shiver as his lips brush her ear, his breath puffing against her jaw. “Do I?” She feigns ignorance and orders a selection of cookies for her parents.

Minho’s hand curls around her elbow, leaning even closer. “I’m jealous.”

That was her goal. She already knows he was jealous. But to hear him say the words against her skin, fingers cradling her arm, has her frozen, heart pounding.

Before she can recover, he’s paid for her purchase, collected her cookies, and steered her towards the next stall. Somewhere along the way, she finds her voice again. “Jealous of who?” She feels herself being tugged further into his side.

“You know,” He says thoughtfully. “I think it’s Seungmin.”

Well. Cass blinks. That’s not what she expected. “Seungmin?”

Minho hums calmly in confirmation. “He’s spent the entire night making the girl he likes smile at him like he’s freaking Santa Claus, and I’ve spent the night letting mine screw with my head.” He pulls her around to face him, shopping forgotten. “On purpose.”

Cass can’t fight the blush that burns straight through her makeup. “Seungmin is Santa Claus.”

Minho just slides his arm around her waist, pulling her ever closer. “Are you messing with my head?”

She forces herself to breathe despite the way her heart feels like it’s going to explode. “Did you just call me your girl?”

Minho’s face is looming closer to her own now, his eyes flicking down to her lips. “That’s not the first time I’ve called you my girl,” He says, and it’s not. “Why are you trying to make me jealous?”

His arm is burning against her back, his eyes burning into hers.

She swallows thickly. “I just wanted to make sure you still think I am.”

“Think you are what?”

“Your girl.”

He kisses her.

It’s sweet and searing and her stomach flips the second he pulls her against him.

For a second, he’s all she knows, all she can feel, all she can taste. Her hands settle on his chest, letting him sweep her away, until he’s leaning back just enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“Be mine.” It’s a breath, a plea.

She presses her lips to his once more, and feels his hands tighten around her waist. “I’m yours.”

pov : anna

She twists the chain of her locket between her fingers, mind racing as she sits in her thick pajamas. The handle of the hunting knife digs into her hip where it has been clipped since the day she was discharged from the hospital.

Her thoughts pick back through the events of the evening, from Seungmin and Felix picking her up that afternoon, to the winter festival with everyone, to Seungmin walking her back to her door and gifting her the beautiful blue scarf that she’d regretfully decided against at one of the stalls.

He didn’t kiss her like she thought he might, rather slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. She’d hugged him back immediately, letting her arms circle his neck.

He wasn’t Han.

She knows that.

He’s not Han.

And he didn’t kiss her, and she likes him even more for that, but she hopes he will next time.

Feeling the butterflies flutter in her chest, Anna leans across her bed and turns off the light. As she scoots down in her bed, she knows her smile is beaming through the dark as her mind replays the warm embrace over and over again.

She’s already a goner, and she can’t help it.

His face is printed inside her eyelids as she slips into sleep.

A warm, safe, comfortable sleep that is abruptly shattered by a hand covering her face in the early hours of the morning. The stinging sensation of chemicals floods her mouth and nose as she thrashes against a powerful hand around both wrists.

Someone shushes her through the darkness, and for a second she falls still, her sudden rush of paralyzing fear interrupted by some strange hope that it’s just her mother or father.

Heavy slumber descends on her senses, an effect of the chemicals, and then someone’s breath is on her face.

“Don’t worry, Anna.” The familiar voice whispers. “It’ll all be over soon.”

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha

[jinnie-ret]

ep.5: the honeymoons

ratings: fluff, some angst

warnings: none

running time: 1.6k words

summary: we see the first batch of couples go on their honeymoons. is love still in the air?

SKZ MAFS EPISODE LIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

chan and rori

location: budapest

"I've always wanted to travel," Rori grinned, feeling peaceful as she gazed across the city, night lights twinkling and night life buzzing.

"You've not been around Europe before? I thought most brits would end up going around Europe because it's so convenient," Chan hummed in thought, his head resting on her shoulder as he hugged her from behind, arms wrapped around Rori's waist.

The two of them had grown close very quickly, already having taken things to the next level. Rori trusted him, and him, her.

"Well, South Korea was a chance I took and I love it. But when I had Oliver, it kind of threw a spanner in the works, so I didn't get the chance to," Rori stroked Chan's hands that involuntarily hugged her tighter as he laughed.

"A good spanner though!" Chan giggled, making the silly comment as he remembered the cute kid that had definitely surprised him on his wedding day, but made him that more excited for their new adventure together.

The day had ended perfectly, after going around and seeing the sights, Hero's Square and Fisherman's Bastion, and now taking in the beautiful city. Of course, there were drunk people in their twenties stumbling down the street together, shouting the words to a song Rori was sure she would have recognised if it had been sung soberly. A piece of her wished maybe she could have had more time in those years, to be recklessx to have fun. She was worried she'd never have that feeling again. But Chan have that to her, he made her feel alive.

"I can't believe how lucky I've gotten, Chan is just so... he gives me butterflies. I can't remember the last time I felt that way," Rori tucked some of her ginger hair behind her ear.

jeongin and dallas

location: mt. fuji

Jeongin and Dallas had finally made it to Mountain Fuji, sharing stories to each other about things they had achieved in their lives and what they wanted to do in the future. Sweetly they had held each other's hands the whole journey there, that small sense of affection and comfort whilst getting to know each other bringing them closer together already. And even as they exited the car together, they never let go of each other, until Dallas was so excited at the gorgeous colours of the flower festival in the clearing of the mountain.

"Ahhh! It's gorgeous! Wow, I just wish we had this back home! This is stunning I can't cope!" Dallas squealed, leaning over the fence and trying to comprehend all the glorious hues of purple, lavender, lilac and magenta intertwining into something she thought she could only dream of.

"You're really excited aren't you?" Jeongin laughed fondly, his wife, yes, he couldn't believe it, his wife, making him happy, her excitement spreading so easily.

"Duh! This is likely my dream, my life," Dallas grinned in astonishment, dropping his hand to run forwards along other paths to take in the sights even more.

They had a great day, and of course got some cute photos with each other, marking the day an amazing one. It was certainly one of the best days of Dallas' life, and Jeongin enjoyed himself too, content in wandering around and taking in nature. Amongst the other things they had done during their honeymoon, this certainly topped it, so it was a shame the day came to a close with a slightly bitter feeling.

"You're so cute, Dallas," Jeongin chuckled from his spot in bed, stretched with his arm around her, cosily nestled in his arms.

"Me? Nah... I think you were the one who's head was in the clouds, wearing that grin all day. That smile will be the death of me, Yang Jeongin," Dallas exclaimed, hand lightly smacking his stomach to emphasise her point.

"If my head was in the clouds then yours was all over the place, haha, you were like an excited child, you remind of the kids I teach," Jeongin chuckled once more, hand going to stroke her hair out of her face but Dallas had already sat up.

"I'm going to make us some tea," Dallas kept a smile on her face and went into the kitchen, Jeongin being none the wiser about how his words had affected her.

"I don't get why he had to say that last bit... like I get it, I can be quite energetic, like I give a lot of energy into the things I love. But I've been told before that I remind people of a child and it feels sort of... patronising? I don't know... it just felt- it didn't feel nice. He's my husband, I shouldn't feel this way..." Dallas rambled as she explained to the camera away from Jeongin, reflecting on the day they had had.

Hopefully they'd be able to squash this in the future.

jisung and valentina

location: new york

"We had such a good day yesterday and now he's all closed off, he won't come out of bed. I thought we'd be doing more with our honeymoon, but, I guess not?" Valentina sighed as she spoke to the camera.

Jisung felt overwhelmed to say the least. He was tired from the flight to New York, but tried his best to keep his energy up during their first day going sightseeing. And everything seemed fine to Valentina. Oh, Valentina. Jisung really was trying his best, he suddenly felt this big responsibility. He had never been in a relationship before, and now he was someone's husband. He had a wife. He knew what he was getting into but he still likes having time to himself, and that was why he was relaxing in bed, scrolling through his phone, having down time like he normally would. But Valentina was there, trying to encourage him to go somewhere with her and do something.

"Ji, you wanna go out for dinner at least?" Valentina sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter in their hotel suite.

"I feel bad. I feel like I'm letting her down already. She's so amazing and, I feel worried that I'm not going to be the man she really needs," Jisung stammered, having his own moment to talk on his own.

But, he took a step and agreed in having dinner. They went to a luxurious restaurant, a top rated one that served mouthwatering gourmet burgers.

"Now this, I can get into this," Valentina let out a breath in delight. Not only was the burger looking delicious, but it gave a break from the sudden awkward small talk that her and Jisung had been contending with.

"I'm sorry," Jisung suddenly said, after swallowing down a mouthful of his burger. Miraculously, they had ordered the same thing, having similar tastes in their preferred cuisine and flavours.

"Hmm?" Valentina delicately wiped her mouth before speaking, "what for?" She had an inkling, but she wanted to hear from him first.

"I know you wanted more, I just, I'm quite a homebody? And I'm really trying to get used to this lifestyle, this..."

"Married life?"

"Not even that, just being able to spend time with someone constantly," Jisung glanced away, taking a sip of his cocktail.

"I'll be real with you, I was sort of upset at first, but I didn't know that about you yet. I didn't know you needed that space to yourself so, it's ok. We'll work through it together, ok?" Valentina reassured him once again, pushing away the thoughts she had before, and putting herself in his shoes.

She was a party animal at heart. She just had to bring out that more confident and energetic side to her husband, and she was willing to do that.

hyunjin and sienna

location: rome

"This all feels like a dream," Sienna marveled at the sights of Rome, swinging her arm with Hyunjin's as they wandered around the city.

"It's not a dream, baby, it's real," Hyunjin earnestly reminded her, pulling her in a different direction as they wandered around some markets, looking for a bite to eat.

"I never thought I'd get to live this," Sienna added on, still in denial.

"Well stop thinking that, ok? Seriously, I'm going to make sure you're happy every day," Hyunjin stopped in his tracks, gazing into her eyes before kissing her on the forehead.

Soon they found somewhere to eat, a quiet restaurant being decided when they couldn't pick from the market.

"Let's get spaghetti and meatballs," Hyunjin smirked, kicking Sienna's foot lightly underneath the table.

"Why so sly about food?" Sienna rose an eyebrow, her accent coming through stronger as she stared at her husband in confusion.

"No reason, just taking inspiration from a certain film..." Hyunjin nodded smugly to himself as he ordered them their food.

And once it arrived, it all clicked.

"Why only one plate... Hyunjin..." Sienna facepalmed, Hyunjin instantly bursting into giggles.

"Have you realised, baby?" Hyunjin cooed as he leant forward.

"We are not lady and the tramping this lunch," Sienna folded her arms, but she too started laughing as she couldn't resist his loving expression.

They exited the restaurant, a blush on Sienna's face after Hyunjin whispered something in her ear.

"He's so romantic. And I'm not used to that. I love it. Just maybe not the sharing food part. I need my own food," Sienna deadpanned into the camera, before huffing out a laugh.

<-- previous ep watch next ep -->

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viewers: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @kpopmenace143 @sakufilms @kai-lee08 @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @royal-shinigami @yangbbokari @skzoologist @crabrangoongirl25 @jyu-037 @keen-li @strawberry31 @5starlee @thatonedemigodfromseoul @amararosesblog @noyurcapri

[hanibalistic]

THE HAPPIEST | HAN JISUNG.

genre | fluff, angst, romance / soulmate au, strangers to lovers au

synopsis | when you found out jisung was your soulmate, you made the difficult decision to lie to him about it.   

word count | 19.2k+

warning | none

note | i've been really into sprite lately!

It took you a moment to register Jisung's face and another moment to process what he had just uttered out of his mouth.

"Tell me, baby, you're the happiest when you're with me, right?"

The line that the universe had etched under your forearm, the words that your soulmate would say to you for the very first time, the very words you had carved so deep into your head because you wanted to make sure you would recognize them whenever and wherever they were spoken.

The night your soul mark appeared was the day you promised yourself that you would vengefully kick your soulmate's ass. Except you didn’t end up kicking anyone in their behind. 

For one, you were in the school cafeteria, and you were not beyond following the rules and regulations enforced by the system. If a revolution was to happen, you should be the last person anybody calls for aid. 

For two, you weren't actually very strong, so you doubted your vengeance could be adequately expressed. Unfortunately, issues regarding grudges should always be dealt with a 'go big or go home' mindset, and you should go home.

For three, the boy who said it to you, your supposed soulmate, was Han Jisung.

You had gone as far as to turn around to make sure no one else was sitting anywhere within a five-centimeter radius of you. It was a plausible mistake. Putting one soul mark on two people? It shouldn't be a mistake. Not many people start their conversation with, "Tell me, baby, you're the happiest when you're with me, right?"

"This can't be," you muttered grimly when you realized your thoughts were illogical. You were alone in the cafeteria. 

You always sat alone in the corner with a homemade sandwich, a carton of apple juice, and a store-bought pudding on the food tray. It wasn't pitiful.

You enjoy eating alone; you do it at home, and you do it at restaurants. The only reason it felt awkward at school was the lack of entertainment from a small screen, forcing you to focus only on chewing and looking thoughtful.

Perhaps that was the reason why Jisung thought you were approachable. You weren’t occupied enough. Some students were reading books, others were cramming their next tests, and most of them were in a circle chatting with their friends. You were the only person who was just eating.

That wasn't the current issue, though. You sat alone, which meant he was talking to you, given that direct eye contact wasn't proof enough that he was. 

Han Jisung, who is multi-talented, not too academically excellent, not really athletic but light enough to be fast, has a wide smile, a voice so soulful, and a heart so pure, is undoubtedly your soulmate.

You weren't sure how you felt about that. You weren't sure how you felt about him.

A mixture of emotions and thoughts flashed before your eyes the moment you turned your head to face him. It was almost like a defense mechanism; you didn't want to see him, so your brain conjured thoughts to cover your eyes.

The way he smirked at you made your cheeks heat up more than you wanted them to. What was there not to like about him? He was handsome, hilarious, and, from what you've heard, had a very tender heart. 

For a moment, you felt a congratulatory spark, a sense of pride that your soulmate was someone so brilliant.

Immediately after, you thought about yourself. Dull, indecisive, and lost. 

You wanted to do so many things at once that you ended up never doing anything, let alone anything groundbreaking.

You were the type of people stuck in a cubicle box when you grew up or stuck riding the same train home every day. You were the type of person who would definitely be able to go somewhere in the future, just nowhere exciting.

Soulmates were supposed to be compatible and similar. Brilliant people stick with brilliant people; intelligent people talk to other smart people; attractive people group with attractive people. They look good with each other, and they elevate each other to be better than before. 

You weren't necessarily self-deprecating, but you were realistic about the situation. You simply weren't the type to pretend to be someone you weren't, and a person like Jisung was someone you could never be.

You sighed. You did know how you felt about him and his identity as your soulmate: you didn't appreciate it. You were happy to know that he was your soulmate, but you decided to keep that to yourself for both of your sake. Jisung doesn't have to know about that.

The story of the swan and the hermit, except you were the knowing frog, and he was the unsuspecting swan. This time, the frog wasn't greedy. This time, the frog lets the swan flourish elsewhere.

It would be unfair to Jisung that he has to grow old without ever finding out who his soulmate was. But at least he knew he had one and could keep the benefit of the doubt that his soulmate was doing amazing things elsewhere in the world.

Not the gloomy and doomy [Name] who sits alone in the cafeteria daily and decides other people's fate for them.

Jisung tilted his head to the side upon your lack of reaction. He saw you mouth something but couldn't hear you over the cafeteria noise. He leaned in a little closer, his eyes squinted. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

You inwardly breathed out a sigh of relief. That made it easier to keep your status a secret. Maintaining a flat expression, you spoke a little bit louder this time and made sure you put some grit into your words to scare him off. “I said why the fuck did you ask me that?”

His expression did not dim one bit upon your harsh words. Instead, his smile widened, and he sat on the seat across you. He raised his brows when he noticed you flinching at the chair squeak. Pulling himself closer to the table, he lifted the chair and placed it down lightly. 

Folding his arms over the table, he finally replied, "Jiae dared me to say something funny to you. She said you would curse at me, and guess what? She was right!"

You stared at him pitifully. The pity was genuine and not an act to push him away. “You are playing truth or dare? In a school cafeteria?”

"Hey! You're never too old to play those games!" he said defensively, his mouth forming a slight pout as he waved his arm lightly by his side.

He looked adorable. You knew that. He had always been charming, but you never took the time to look at his face and appreciate his wonderfully cohesive features.

His chubby cheeks and sun-kissed smile were attractive individually, and they didn't ruin each other together. You wished you were less influenced by them.

"You can be too old to learn to read the room and notice that some people just don't want to talk to you," you laughed, making sure the noise from the back of your throat sounded sarcastic enough. "But don't worry, you're still young! You can learn now, starting with me!"

Jisung's eyes dimmed, and his grin fell flat. You could visibly see his gears turning and his demeanor changing when he realized you were being hostile on purpose. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in mild dismay as he leaned back. 

He has met people like you before. If anything, he has encountered people far worse than you. It wasn't that you acted so distantly that you made him click his tongue and drop his bubbly personality, but that you were a close friend of Jiae. The chirpy and sweet Jiae who sat with his circle of friends every day. 

He was never one to judge. He believes in the phrase: everyone is going through something you don't know about, and he had always chosen to keep the negative thoughts to himself. However, when Jiae mentioned you used to be her best friend back in middle school, he thought you would be brighter.

His expectation of you was so much higher than bitter and mean.

“That’s not nice,” he said. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

You were pleasantly surprised that he bit back but also not too weirded out that he did. After all, people like him were the most likely to defend themselves. 

Tilting your head, you shrugged. 

"A lot of people in this school didn't do anything to anyone, yet people like you–“ You closed your mouth and exhaled quietly, staring at his clueless expression without the willpower to make accusations. You couldn't possibly blame all cases of bullying on him; he's probably never hurt anyone in this school. Neither should you fight fire with fire.

“Never mind,” you said. “You need to learn how to let people be a little mean to you. You can’t expect everyone to defend themselves without ever getting hurt yourself.”

Jisung rubbed his lips together and sulked. You were right. Besides, he was the one who initiated an unwanted conversation. Discreetly, he looked behind his shoulder at his table of friends before turning back to you, ignoring the expression of complete boredom you were showing him.

“Actually,” he started, his voice soft and his shoulders shrunk. “I have a favor to ask."

You raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"You know prom is coming up, right?”

"No, Jisung. Thank you so much for telling me," you mumbled, sipping your apple juice. "I never see all the informational flyers they put up over the school to let us know what theme this year's prom will be."

Jisung sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to smile through your sardonic remark. "Anyway, I wanted to ask Jiae to prom, but I…" His voice trailed off when you held up your hand to stop him.

He waited curiously as you turned your head to the side to finish your drink, crushing the carton in your hand and throwing it back onto the trade. Your pursed lips brushed against each other as you held back a burp. Well, you'll be damned! The universe was helping you ensure Jisung never ended up with you!

"Let me guess," you said, looking away solemnly as if staring off into the ocean, and then you turned back to him.

"You want me to help you ask her to prom because you don't know what to do and what she likes. However, since she claims I am her best friend, you think I would be a good candidate for your prom proposal project."

“Yes!”  Jisung replied after a moment. “Was that predictable?"

"Yes. When ten out of ten people who approach you ask for a favor, you learn many people don't have any real issues to deal with because they'd have to take it up with a professional if it is serious, so don't blame yourself too much." You shrugged." Also, the answer is no. I can't help you.”

"You can't help me or you won't help me?" Jisung asked.

“I can’t, and I won’t.”

“Why?” 

"Oh my god, it's like you lack any thought process." You chuckled in disbelief, but some of you found humor in this situation, where his logic had flown out the window. 

"Jiae is not the same person she was in middle school. I don't know what she likes now. You have better chances asking people in your friend group for help than asking me," you said.

"I don't know which screw got lost in your head, but it is fascinating that you'd rather turn to a stranger for help before asking your friends."

His lips quirked downward. “How would you know I haven’t already asked my friends?”

“Because you wouldn’t be asking me if you did,” you said, the lightheartedness in your voice made into a tone of mockery. “People like you love those things. Embarrassing public proposals, taking pictures of regular food, talking so loud people can hear your business from five yards away. Whatever.”

Jisung gulped down a grumble in his throat. More than being defensive about the stereotypes you seemed so fixated on, he was disturbed that you tossed him and his friends into the group of people like that. 

There was nothing wrong with being that way, of course. Some people enjoy attention, and some people love to gossip, but he wasn't so illiterate as to not understand what group of people you were referencing and how you felt about them. He didn't think he was part of that group. 

Popular? Yes. Superficial? A little! Horrible? No.

The drop in his optimism was hard to miss. However, even though you felt terrible, you thought it was necessary if you wanted him to keep a distance from you permanently. The soul mark under your arm can never be revealed, and you didn’t feel like deliberately hiding it for the rest of your life. 

Having him be as far removed from your life as possible, to not even have any mutual acquaintances, was the way to go.

"For what's worth, Jisung, I think you'll be fine." You stood up, one hand holding onto the food tray as you left your seat. As you brushed past him, you lightly bumped the tray against the top of his head. This was your farewell. "Good luck to you."

His eyes followed your back. He watched you empty your tray and return it by the kitchen window. You jogged towards the stairway and disappeared upstairs.

It has bothered him since the conversation started, but he felt an unexplainable attraction toward you. It wasn't necessarily romantic attraction; you weren't his type, or at least he didn't think so.

He merely felt a desire to get to know you more, even though you spent most of your first encounter talking down to him. 

Turning around, he stared at the vacant seat across him. His hand subconsciously reached for his hair and he pressed on the spot where you hit him with the tray. 

You were certain Jisung had no knowledge of your soul bound with him. Yet, somehow, he has been bugging you any chance he got.

He was there during lunch when you ate alone and recess when you sat in your classroom with your head buried deep in your arms. He was also there during joint PE classes when you sat on the sideline watching other students play a foul basketball game. 

You have underestimated his stubbornness in befriending you, which source was muddy and confusing. At this point, you were convinced that no number of one-word answers and defeated sighs would deter him from trying to talk to you.

He has singlehandedly developed your instinct to examine a room as you walk into it, forcing you to follow a new routine to avoid him. 

You started eating lunch at the rooftop, where you met Felix, a transfer student who hadn't yet found his way around the school. After hearing your endeavor to avoid Jisung, which he thought was hilarious, he also agreed to hide with you by the stairway during each fifteen-minute recess. 

With Felix’s help, you have successfully avoided Jisung most of the time. 

Flipping a page of the textbook you borrowed from the library, you calmly scribbled down some important notes you jotted in class as you tried to cultivate a concept sensible enough to understand the topic. 

“I swear these books say something different from what my teacher taught,” Felix complained as he dropped his forehead to the page. He swung his head from left to right as if copying the material into his brain. “I don’t get it! I don’t get it!”

You grimaced and dropped your pencil. Lifting your head from your palm, you reached over and carefully pulled the textbook from his head. His face fell against the table with a thud loud enough to embarrass himself. You let him stay in that position, swallowing the attention of those who looked up from the noise.

"Your class is moving ahead fast," you said, running a finger down the lines in your notebook to check for accuracy. "Did you write any notes from class?"

“No.” He turned slowly with a tearful frown. “The teacher talks too fast. I couldn’t really understand him.”

"That's," you licked your lower lip, "I can't help you now, but I made some notes while preparing for the chapter. You can use them to see if they help."

He shot up, forcing his chair into a squeak. Your sharp gaze peered over at his face, and he pursed his lips bashfully, trying to hide his presence by shrinking his body. Discarding the second noise commotion, you went into your folder in search of what Felix needed. Once you found it, you put it on the table to check for anything illegible.

A black-colored schoolbag suddenly dumped itself next to you, startling you and Felix. Your pencil scrapped a big line across the paper as you leaned away with a breath hitched in your throat. 

Felix eyed the newcomer with an awkward smile, his body already turning away to his belongings so he could pack up. He has heard enough of Jisung from you to know he didn't want to sit around your bickering. Confused by his reaction, you turned to look briefly and then immediately turned away, closing your eyes and sucking down a lump of frustration upon the familiar sight of a squirrel keychain.

"You again," you mumbled as you grabbed your eraser from your pencil case to clean up the mess you made on your notes.

“Yes, indeed.” Jisung plopped down on the chair next to you. “It is I.”

A triumphant smile was evident on his face, both from finding you amongst all the other places near the school and from being able to annoy the living daylight out of you. It was never his intention to do the latter, but he took any reaction he could get out of you as an achievement worthy of celebrating. 

“I see you’ve got a friend,” he said.

“I’m actually leaving,” Felix announced with a wave. When you snapped your head to glare at him for being disloyal, he only gently waved his hands before your face, leaning in but never quite touching you. Soft nothings flew out of his lips, but they were definitely apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you later, I promise.”

He left in the blink of an eye, almost quicker than when he realized curry buns were in the cafeteria. Picking up your jaw, your lips pursed together into a dissatisfied grimace as you faced the table again. Despite the rush, he didn't forget to take your notes with him, that coward! 

“Who was that?”

“Lee Felix,” you replied. “He just transferred here.”

“Oh, no wonder! I’ve never seen him before!”

That was partly your fault. You asked him to hide away with you during all the social hours.

"Are you two friends?" Jisung asked. "Or did your homeroom teacher make you his guide?"

“He’s not in my class,” you said. 

“So…” he fiddled with his thumbs, “you two are friends.”

“Sure.”

You deliberately turned away from him so you wouldn't catch his pitiful gaze. Something about the way his eyes were wide and round was different. His was like a deer, but not a deer in headlights. His eyes were pouty, pathetic, and sad. A foul-proof weapon to get whatever he wants. You have some resolve against that because you were on a mission to stay away from him, but you were not entirely immune to it. 

You understood why he could feel unfairly treated knowing Felix became your friend while you never let your guard down around him, but that wasn’t for him to analyze. 

"Jisung, why are you doing this?" you asked without looking at him. "I already told you I can't help you with the prom proposal."

"I'm not here for the prom proposal," he clarified. "I just wanted to be friends with you."

You pursed your lips together and nodded. That would make your plan backfire. With someone as playful and touchy as him, who knew when he'd want to play around with your sleeves, and then bam! One careless mistake could send the secret flying out to the public, and people would whisper about you, the incompatible and underserving soulmate.

“I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“Why?” he asked. 

“Why do you want to be my friend?”

He shrugged. “I just want to.”

“Apply that to your question,” you said. “I just don’t want to be your friend.”

“That’s different!” he exclaimed quietly. “I don’t understand. You became friends with Felix!”

"What do you want me to do, Jisung?" You dropped your pencil and glared at him. "You find me at the most inconvenient time. You ramble on and on about your problems. I don't have the energy for someone like you! You're–" You clamped your mouth shut as Jisung leaned back against his chair. He tore his eyes away from you for the first time. "I'm just–I'm sorry. I'm drained."

Jisung didn't speak, and your heart dropped in the rare silence. Assuming that he had finally given up, you exhaled and began to collect your belongings. You stuffed your stationaries inside your pencil case and closed up the books, shoving them inside your school bag.

"Wait, where are you going?" Jisung asked after noticing your hasty movement.

"Home," you replied, zipping up your schoolbag and flinging it across your shoulder.

"Wait. Hold on, wait for me," he hissed as he grabbed his schoolbag quickly and followed you into the aisles, his eyes never leaving your figure.

Standing between the narrow space, Jisung trailed closely behind, trying to find an opportunity to speak up. At the same time, your legs moved quickly from one aisle to another, finding the borrowed textbook's original place. When you finally slipped the book in between the perfect gap with other identical textbooks, you turned and bolted out of the library. He watched you, exhaled, and picked up his pace.

“Look, I get it, you're tired. You really don't have to apologize for it,” he said once you were outside. 

"I don't have time to satisfy your savior complex, Jisung," you said. "There are plenty of students like me. Go find someone else."

“You’re literally just saying things now,” he said. “I just want to chat with you.”

“We don’t have anything in common,” you muttered.

“You don’t know that!” he exclaimed with a laugh. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

"I'm not a masochist like you, that's for sure," you said as you gripped the strap of your bag. Briefly looking at him, you pulled a face almost condescendingly. "I would never chase after someone who treats me like I treat you."

Jisung stopped following you then. You stalked away, moving further and further away from him. His fingers dangled, barely brushing past each other, and then he rubbed them together until his hand turned into a fist. The corner of his lips twitched, but instead of wallowing in helplessness, he felt wronged and frustrated. 

You were clearly capable of socializing; you could chat with others and go to places with your friends. What was so wrong about him that made you so hostile? Did you truly believe in your words that day at the cafeteria, where you indirectly called him superficial and embarrassing? Was the only difference between him and Felix the bridge of popularity? 

If so, then you were undoubtedly worse than him.

 “You’re the superficial one!” 

You froze with your shoulders hunched up, and your eyes widened. Your heart nearly beat out of your chest when you turned around and found him stomping toward you, his hair bouncing with every animated step. Leaning back to avoid him crashing into you, you frowned at his accusing finger and even more aggressive ramble. 

"You know nothing about me, and I have done nothing to you! You generalized a group of people you hate and applied that judgment to my friends and me based on less than five commonalities," he snapped. 

"I admit I also did that to you. I thought you were mean and crass, but I changed my mind when I found out you had been hanging out with Felix while avoiding me every chance. You never tried to see where I am coming from or who I am as a person, removed from your assumptions! That makes you worse than me! That makes you a horrible person!"

He didn't know he had it in him to string together so many sentences verbally without stuttering once, especially when speaking from his mind without letting the words load. Before he knew it, his hand flew to cover his mouth, suppressing the urge to throw up apologies. 

You didn't think he had it to tell the hard truth, so his rant was a pleasant surprise. You weren't the least bit offended. If you didn't want to be accused, then you wouldn't have acted the way you did, and your willingness to own up to your horrible personality always made you feel superior to others. However, turning a new leaf was a whole different step to take.

“You knew I was avoiding you?” you asked calmly.

His hand slowly dropped from his mouth, and he nodded. He looked almost grief-stricken, and you supposed he would be. He has probably never been treated this way.

“Do you really think we can be good friends?” 

Jisung looked up curiously. "Why won’t we be?"

“I don’t fit in with your group of friends,” you said. 

He ruffled his hair, his eyes squinted in disbelief. “Why does that matter?”

“It matters to me. People like you don’t have to worry about that because everyone likes you,” you grumbled, a sense of unfairness sparking deep within you. "You've never been the kid who gets pushed over in the cafeteria or the girl who got bet on, so you can shove that."

It was your turn to call him out. You were right. He was never the public plaything, the cafeteria humiliation, nor did he ever attempt to stop those weekly events from happening. Asking you to ignore everything when he was sitting comfortably on top of the social hierarchy was inconsiderate.

"Who did those to you?" he asked instead, choosing to carefully approach you, to take baby steps towards the gate of your heart.

"That's funny. I swear you were in the cafeteria when it happened, too." Your shoulders slacked visibly as you spun on your heels, an eye roll tailing after. "Pretentious."

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to anyone.” He followed you. “I care. I really do!”

“Gee! How noble of you!” you mocked. "You care now because you need my help with the prom proposal. I don’t need that kind of pity.”

Jisung let out a groan of frustration, one that was loud enough to make you halt to a stop again. It felt more aggressive than the rant just a moment ago. 

"I'm only going to say this one last time. I am not talking to you because I need your help," he exclaimed. His hands were deep in his hair, borderline pulling them from his scalp, and he was sure it would be less painful than this conversation. 

Letting his hair go, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply enough to calm himself. "You intrigued me. I don't know how or why, but you did, so now I want to be your friend. That's it."

It was the truth. You never once doubted that he genuinely wanted to start a friendship with you. The problem was you. You were so afraid of being found that you would rather stab him over and over again than accept him, even though you didn't hate him at all.

You gulped hard, giving yourself some time to think. "There is no point in us being friends when you have closer friends to hang out with."

He shook his head with a disagreeing frown. “I have friends outside of the group I always hang with. Just because we are not as close doesn't mean I don’t still value their friendship.”

A fleeting friendship. He would still hang out with you, but most of the time, he would be around his existing friends, which would eat away the time he could spend with you. You would never ask him to choose you over his friend group, and you didn't feel like wasting your time maintaining a distant friendship if you could just pretend he was never in your life. 

That way, you never have to worry about each other. That way, things would be the way they were supposed to be. You were used to that. 

“Agree to disagree,” you said. “I’d rather commit to a few people full than have to spare minor commitments to several others. I’m not willing to spend that kind of effort for someone who is just a friend.”

You waited for his response. He heard you, loud and clear. Through the silence, he could finally look at you for the first time. He took everything you said into consideration, his eyes boring holes into your features and sending shivers down your spine with their intensity. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He poked at it impatiently, his nail clanking against the screen.

"What are you doing?" you asked in defeat.

“Here," Jisung replied as he showed you his phone. The screen showed his calendar, where he marked all the upcoming events and important dates. Birthdays, hangouts, tests, and extracurricular activities. “I am really good at managing my time. I promise I will make time for you. I will make space for our friendship to flourish.”

Your eyes moved between his phone and his face. A noticeable heat brewed under your uniform, and it tried its mightiest to stretch the nerve around your lips into a smirk. You didn't want to feel optimistic about this, so you focused on the fingerprints on his screen and slowly smacked your tongue against your top front teeth. 

It just occurred to you that he has continuously made accommodations for you. You wouldn’t initiate conversations, so he did. You wouldn’t find him during free time, so he did. You didn’t like to talk too much, so he filled the space. You didn’t like fleeting friendships, so he made space. 

All of that for what? To be friends with someone like you?

"I'm sorry," you muttered after a sigh, touching your forearm and avoiding eye contact with him. “You’re going to regret being my friend.”

"That's not up to you to decide," Jisung said. 

You couldn't deal with the risk of letting him know, and you didn't have the energy to hide your mark constantly. But even more than that, your weak heart couldn't handle seeing Jisung look as defeated and sulky as he did whenever you treated him less than decent.

Jisung was your soulmate, after all. As pessimistic of a person as you were, you care about and like him. Enough to try turning over a new leaf.

"I'm heading to the Taiwanese shop," you informed as you started to walk away again.

"Huh? I thought you were going home?"

"I lied. My mom isn't home to make dinner today, so I'm eating outside," you replied, stopping in your tracks and looking behind your shoulder at Jisung, who was still grounded on his spot. You beckoned him over. "Are you tagging along or not?"

Jisung grabbed hold of the straps of his schoolbag as a smile lit up on his face. He rushed over to you quickly, not wanting to waste another minute.

After ordering food, you two went to find a small table in the middle of the restaurant and settled down.

Jisung gave his parents a call about not being able to make it back home for dinner despite your consistent protest that immediately melted away when Jisung let out a playful growl your way to display his sense of dismay. You told him not to act like a dog in public and let it go.

Jisung rubbed his hands together as he placed his food on the table. He snapped the wooden chopsticks open and dug in, quietly praising the food with each slurp of his wonton noodle soup. You focused on your food, not bothering to start a conversation until both of you finished dinner.

Crossing your legs under the table, you leaned against the chair and wiped your mouth with a napkin. “Regardless, you want my help with the prom proposal, right?”

Jisung’s chewing slowed as he smiled up at you sheepishly. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, so it’s okay. I’ll find someone else for help.”

“No, it’s fine.” You shrugged. “It’s better for you to talk to me about a problem. I might actually have something to contribute than me struggling to relate to what you did during the day.” 

He squinted his eyes a little at you. It was probably because you have never spoken to him much about what really goes on inside your head that you appeared entirely unpredictable for him.

Jisung wasn’t saying he was ever good at observing people’s behavior and understanding their feelings. He was always more of a sympathizing and comforting person than analyzing and accessing.

But with you, he couldn’t tell anything at all. Your expression betrays your thoughts, and your tone betrays your words. You mix sharp wit with a mellow voice and joy with exhaustion.

At the last second, you were all up his face about him only caring about his problems, but now you offered to help him with them.

As confusing and rude as you had been to him, he couldn’t feel an ounce of hatred towards you, nor did he ever feel lost in this relationship. Logically, he should have been, but deep inside his chest, something kept tugging him back to you.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “People usually find me to ask for something, so it’s more comfortable if you need me to do something for you.”

"That doesn't sound very nice," Jisung frowned, sitting up straighter as he looked at you with saddening eyes.

"It doesn't, but you get used to it," you said.

He pouted. ”Still, everyone deserves someone who wants to be with them simply because they want to."

You chuckled harshly. The idea was foreign to you—mostly a fault of your own. You weren’t attractive enough for people to be interested in you from the get-go.

You weren’t decent enough for those curious to stay for a long time. You also weren’t too socially endurable, so besides other people getting tired of you, you couldn’t stand being around anyone for too long.

“You wouldn’t understand, and I hope you never do.” You smiled bitterly. A rare, genuine smile, accompanied by your shoulders slacking from tension and your alerted eyes softening. 

It’s a sight that indicated to Jisung the tearing down of your mental walls. A second later, you built it back up again. Your back arched, and your lips pursed. The heartfelt expression changed too fast for Jisung; he didn’t even have the time to store the image in his brain.

“I’ll start by saying I can’t guarantee your success rate because, as I have told you, Jiae and I aren’t friends anymore,” you said.

"We’re also not that close back then. I have no idea why she still goes around announcing that we’re good friends. The last time we hung out was during middle school, and that was it.”

Jisung's confused expression gave you an idea that he didn't really believe you, so you placed your palm on the table and leaned in to assert more confidence. “We are not friends. Have you ever seen me hang out with her before?"

"Uh..." Jisung opened his mouth.

“No, Jisung! You’re thinking, and this question shouldn’t involve any thinking!” You snapped your fingers at his face. “The fact is right in front of you. The answer is no, you have never seen us hang out before.”

Jisung pursed his lips together, taken back by your fast movements. 

"Okay, fine," he said. “Then help me out as my friend. Tell me what she might want. Give me your standard."

You bumped against the back of the chair and snorted with your arms crossed. “Does it look like I have a standard to base upon?"

“Oh, you know!” Jisung whined, "Any celebrities? Fictional characters? Songs?"

You let out another snort as you shook your head comically, "Of course, because fictional characters are so achievable.”

“They can be if you try!” Jisung declared.

“You’re not serious, are you?” You raised a brow. “You know why fictional characters are so desirable because they are not obtainable. It is impossible to become them or be with them. The most enticing part about them is the process of desire, which will promptly be eliminated once you obtain it.”

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re mouthing off about,” he said between chews of his food. “I just know that if my partner has a list of boyfriend goals, then you bet I am giving them everything on the list. That includes fictional character standard.” 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips. The way Jisung furiously wanted to give his love everything they wanted sent shivers down your spine and made you feel a sense of excitement in conjunction with a yearning for a potential future. 

Whoever ends up with him in the future will receive such an immense amount of love that you could feel your envy creeping up, which was in conjunction with bitterness. 

That person could have been you if you weren't so much like yourself.

“I don't think your partner would ask you to do that. I think you're already great,” you said. “If that’s worth anything.”

Jisung's eyes widened at the unpredicted compliment. “You think so?” 

You nodded in confirmation, and he laughed shyly, scratching the back of his head.

“Thanks,” he said. “No one's ever told me that before."

"No way,” you denied in disbelief. “Someone must have told you that you are good enough before. Or anything along the lines of that.”

“I have been complimented before, of course! But telling me I’m a nice guy doesn’t reassure me,” he mumbled.

“I mean–“ You snorted air out of your nose as you looked away. “What else do you want? I’d give anything to be told I’m a nice person.” 

He unknowingly snorted, too. “That requires you to be a nice person.”

“Oh?” You leaned up from the back of the chair and uncrossed your arms. “Suddenly, you’re a comedian! You know how to joke!”

“I’m just saying!” he exclaimed. “I don’t think you are horrible, but you can be mean and unapproachable sometimes. ”

“Yet you approached me.”

“Now who’s the comedian?” He pointed at you with his chopsticks and dropped them on the napkin. 

You waited for him to finish chewing the last of his food. His words irked you, but not in the way one would assume. You still didn’t really care for the consequences of your attitude. You cared to know how you turned out that way or when you changed because you didn’t used to be this way. 

You had a social circle back then, and you were involved in different hobbies, and then your father left the picture, and you were gone.

Looking up at Jisung, who sipped his drink as he casually checked his phone for any messages from his parents, you cast your eyes down when you realized perhaps you did care a little about how others thought of you.

Specifically, you cared about how he thinks of you. You didn’t have to worry about it when you were gatekeeping yourself from him. It was a mistake to let loose.

“Do you really think I’m mean?” 

Jisung slowly looked up at you from his phone. He stopped sucking on the straw when he saw your determined expression, and he dropped his phone and pushed away his drink with a prepared expression as if he had been waiting for this his whole life.

But he wasn’t prepared. He was gently panicking; he thought he hurt your feelings, and that stung his skin terribly.

“No. No, no, no,” he sped out. “Whatever you are thinking of, I probably didn’t mean it that way.”

“How did you mean it?”

“I don’t know? It’s just–“ He sighed. “You were rude to me when I first talked to you.” 

“I guess I was,” you muttered. You avoided his eyes. “I wasn’t always like this.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “What were you like?”

Happier was the most straightforward word you knew to describe it. You had no worries for the future, you had friends, and your parents were still together.

Although, you couldn’t blame your parents’ separation for the bitter change in your personality, at least not entirely. Some part of it was your own doing. You wanted to be cynical and unapproachable to avoid socializing and being known. 

You sniffed and rubbed the tip of your nose, a grimace obvious on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

He stared at you in dissatisfaction as you gathered the trash from the table onto your tray. You moved fast and without any words, which he couldn’t find any reason to. Besides that, you were even more upset at his imposing question. 

You wore your schoolbag and stood up. He followed dramatically, bumping into table corners and kicking chairs on his way.

“I like you, [Name],” he clarified, his legs matching your pace. “I really do. I’m sorry!”

“I know,” you said as you slowed down. You peered at him with a smirk. “I’m messing with you.” 

He paused on the spot, the worried frown slowly quirked into a smile.

You could consider him humored.

You spent a week of (debatably) quality time with Jisung. It happened more frequently than you liked, occurring every day after school. 

Each of your hangouts consisted of you denying his offer to eat dinner with you since your mother works late at night, and him arguing that teenagers should always eat with someone to decrease loneliness.  

It felt both relieving and uncomfortable for you to be in such a quiet environment during Saturday lunch.

Jisung was always there to yell in your face about his day after you finished dinner at a random restaurant that you had to force him to pick. The never-ending process of deciding where to eat usually ends with a game of rock-paper-scissors, which the loser has to choose, and Jisung miraculously always lost. 

Now that you had finished lunch at home alone, the quiet process of cleaning up after yourself was deafening. You never had a problem with it, but you supposed it made sense to have a gaping hole in your chest now that Jisung's terrific company has been etched in your brain.

Being without him made any atmosphere duller, even with the television on as background noise.

After covering the unfinished dish with a plastic wrap, you picked the plate up just in time to hear the doorbell ring. Putting the plate back down curiously, you slowly glided to the door, thinking it was just the delivery guy.

"Hello–" You eyes widened and your voice came to a sharp end after you shamelessly swung the front door open. 

"Hi, you!" Jisung greeted, grinning at you with his chubby cheeks and bright teeth. 

You panicked. Your arm was propped up, your hand around the edge of the wooden frame, and you wore short sleeves. It had been too hot inside the kitchen when you cooked lunch, so you had to change it, and you knew very well that your soul mark was entirely on display.

All Jisung needed to do was turn his head a little, and he would catch sight of it.

Quickly, you brought your arm behind your back and smiled up at him. Jisung, who had caught on to the faint ink on your arm and the nervous smile that followed closely behind, tilted his head to the side as his cheerful grin dimmed to a curious smirk.

“I saw your soul-mark there,” he said, pointing at where your arm was propped up. “Why are you hiding it?” 

When you shrugged and shakily told him it was nothing, it only spiked his interest, so he pressed on. He squinted his eyes and carefully removed his shoes by stepping on the outer sole.

You laughed when he began walking inside your home uninvited, but you weren’t sure if you got nervous from his unrelenting gaze or humored that he was visibly shorter after taking off his shoes.

“Oh, come on, what does it say?” he asked.

“Nothing! I wasn’t even trying to hide it,” you replied, forcing the nonchalance into your tone. 

“Then show me,” he said, holding a hand out politely. “If you weren’t hiding it.”

You looked around the living room for any saving grace, but there was none. It was an open space without anything interesting to redirect his attention to. Unfortunately, you were the most interesting thing to him.

You scoffed, feeling your heart pump all its blood onto your neck and cheeks. 

You have been hiding this secret for a week already. 

Given that you have relatively let your guard down around him and knew that he wasn’t the type of person to judge you based on your social status. Given that you two have hit it off very well and were surprisingly compatible. Given that you thought, for a moment, that there was a chance your relationship could work out, you couldn’t tell him. 

You’ve lied for long enough. It would be too awkward to tell the truth. 

Besides, it could have been a honeymoon phase. If you spend more time with him, he could show his real face and change your mind.

"It can't be that embarrassing, can it?” 

He reached for your arm, his fingers curling around it. If he really wanted to yank your arm out of your back, he could, and he would. With a speeding heart, you let out a strangled noise from the back of your throat and decided to turn in a circle quickly, startling him. Your hand flew up to slap against his eyes, which caught him off guard. You backed him up to the nearest wall and held him still. 

"Woah, woah! Okay, I won't look!" Jisung exclaimed defensively, holding his hand up in surrender. 

He could feel you pressed up to his torso as you asked him for confirmation. He wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of your sudden exert of dominance or more attracted by the proximity you unknowingly bestowed upon him.

"I promise," he confirmed. Seconds later, he felt your hand slip away.

You rubbed your arm shyly, pressing it close to your side. “What are you doing here?"

Jisung's shoulders hunched as he looked around your house. “Nothing much. I just wanted to spend some time with you."

“Why? Were you bored being home alone?” you asked as you returned to the dining table and started to take the plates back into the kitchen, dropping them in the sink so you could deal with them later.

“Uh, yes.” Jisung raised a finger. “But I’m not just here for me! I also really want to hang out with you."

Your eyes squinted at the emphasis of his tone, eyeing him with contemplation as you walked out of the kitchen slowly. It wasn’t out of his character to need constant stimulation from the outside world, either music, public transport, food, or people.

However, how he rubbed his hands and pulled on his fingers spoke an ulterior motive that only he and his savior complex would have. 

“Is this about what I said before? About people asking me for a favor whenever they look for me?”

Jisung blinked at you. You were correct. That thought had been bugging him day and night. He genuinely thought that people should never have to think with such a cynical mindset that was antagonistic towards oneself. His friends should never feel that way, and you especially should not. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied nonchalantly, a pout evident on his face.

You let out a faint laugh as you shook your head, beckoning him to follow you before leading him to your room. Jisung was hesitant as he took the first step inside, but soon, he was drowned in the cozy fragrance of your room and basked in the sight of what was the embodiment of you.

Folded laundry, comic books, posters on your walls, and bed sheet patterns. Everything meant something when it belonged to you; someday, he thought he would be part of the atmosphere. However that would unfold.  

“I knew there would be a pile of clothes in your room. I knew it!” Jisung pointed at the laundry basket in the corner next to your closet. 

“Everyone owns a laundry pile, Jisung.” 

"I knew there would be a lot of books in your room, ha!" He turned and pointed at the bookshelf of textbooks and fiction books stacked on two columns of your shelf. 

“Students tend to have books in their room, Jisung.”

“I knew you like music! Look at all the albums!” He spun and gestured at the albums of your favorite band displayed in a small rectangular space.

“A lot of people like music, Jisung.”

“Okay, what is your problem? I’m trying to get riled up here.” Jisung frowned, and you laughed at his defeated state. 

He slumped down on the floor, leaning his back against the edge of your bed. At the same time, you sat on your rolling chair after turning on the air conditioner so you could put on a sweater. 

“I’m going to ask you again,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

Jisung pulled a face at your mocking tone. ”To steal a glance at your soul-mark, duh."

You pursed your lips together and threw your eraser at him. He giggled as he held up his arm to block his face, your reaction once again kick-starting his interest. 

Why are you so defensive?

"I don't want to talk about it," you said, as if reading his mind.

“Why? Did something happen?"

You hopelessly glared at Jisung, unsure if he was simply dumb at catching onto hints or if his curiosity was really getting the best of his noisiness. You looked away, annoyed but also overwhelmed. Jisung offered you a chance to talk about your feelings; it would be weird if you didn't take it, considering how many emotions you bottle up, even if the topic was you and him.

You just have to be careful.

You sighed, giving in to his semi-pleading eyes. “He wouldn't love me. We're too different."

Jisung raised an eyebrow. "You are so sure he's a he–"he suddenly shot forward–"Oh my god, you already found him."

You had one job.

He sat up on his knees, looking at you with wide and excited eyes before he let out a disappointed groan, snapping his fingers aggressively. “Who is he? Do I know him? Is he from our school? I will go talk to him!"

“It’s nothing exciting,” you replied timidly. “You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

"What are you talking about? He’s your soulmate!” He slumped down onto his legs again and stared at you in disbelief. He ran a hand through his hair, pouting as he took secret glances at you, hoping for an agreement. When you didn’t give him any, he groaned and smacked his legs. “He’s supposed to love you forever!”

When you threw him a face, he rolled his eyes and shook his hand at you to indicate that he understood your pessimistic sentiment. “Okay, fine. Maybe not forever, but still! He’s supposed to love you.”

"First of all, you said it yourself, he's my soulmate. I don't know why you're being more excited about this than I am," you pointed out. "Second, you have a very fantasized perception of soulmates."

Piping down, Jisung looked at you with squinted eyes, challenging and determined.  His voice was low as he spoke briefly. "How? Elaborate."

You shrugged. You thought it was evident from the get-go. "It's just a link. It's not a predetermined bond. You don't have to love your soulmate if you don't want to. The universe can't force you to do what you don't want to.

“But soulmates!” he exclaimed in a whine. 

He inched forward slowly, moving over to you by the rolling chair and placing his hand on your knee to stop you from spinning. 

"Soulmates have a unique link together. They are supposed to guarantee that someone out there is willing to accept you no matter what, so you don't have to worry about your current problems," he said. "They're a promise that lasts forever!"

You pressed your hand on his, landing on soft initially before suddenly shoving him off your knee. “No one is supposed to do anything. No one is supposed to love anyone.”

“Parents are supposed to love their children,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

You exhaled as you stared ahead. Once upon a time, you thought that too. You still believed in it, somewhat. Your father’s sudden departure left you in disarray; you weren’t sure if you passionately advocated for the idea or had abandoned that hope. 

“They are supposed to,” you muttered. “Alas, some of them don’t.” 

Jisung sat on his heels quietly when you turned around to be by your desk. You leaned your head on your arms and closed your eyes, relishing the peace and quiet you hadn't gotten since he arrived at your home. It felt awkward, almost like you knew he figured something was wrong, and he did. 

You were always so frustrated and hurried. You think and speak fast, yet you rarely say the wrong thing. It was very unlike himself, who had to ensure the words went through his brain if he didn't want to mess up. He figured that was why it was evident whenever you're upset, because the frustration turns into sadness, and you stop arguing.

Rubbing his hands on his pants, he looked around your room again and carefully moved closer to sit by your desk. He looked up, his lips pursing with uncertainty as he poked the side of your leg. 

“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay?”

You sighed and turned your head to look down at him. He was small, all curled up to occupy as little space as possible, so you would let him stay around because he knew you hated noise, long rambles, animated gestures, and everything that encompasses himself as a person.

It was guilt-inducing. Looking at him, your soulmate, was painful, from knowing what could have been to how you have treated him so far. But he remained kind and welcoming. For the most part, he did. And he was loud. You knew he tried not to be. You didn't care for it.

You would have forgotten what you were arguing about if he hadn't left such a lasting impression on you for you to care so much. 

How could you ever doubt him in regard to his willingness to embrace his soulmate despite any kind of circumstances? How could you ever even think about Jisung purposefully pushing you away if he ever knew about the truth between you and him? That was unlike him. You knew it wasn't.

“You believe in all of that,” you whispered. “About your soulmate.”

He blinked, the gears behind his round eyes turning. He left his hand near you in the tiny space on your seat.

“Yeah. I can’t imagine not loving my soulmate,” Jisung confessed, staring into your soul. “I really want to meet them.”

You pursed your lips together, desperately wanting to tell him the truth, but your paranoia told you to lie. You were too deep into it. Telling him now would only cause him anger, and you were scared of the consequences despite him admitting that he would, no matter what, be in love with his soulmate.

“You’re so nice, Jisung,” you complimented, your eyes softening with a smile. “I wish everyone was like you.”

His lashes fluttered, but only he felt it. Looking away to compose himself, nervously pulling his fingers and settling his wiggly toes, he bit back a bashful grin by blowing air into his cheeks. You watched his ear gradually turn red, its cause a mystery to you, and you reached a hand down to rub it between your fingers. 

He jumped, his head snapping to look at you as his hand flew up to block the sensation. You retreated immediately, equally as startled by his reaction. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, almost as if he could piece together what happened. 

You frantically tried to find something else to cover up the fact that you subconsciously attempted to soothe the redness on his ear, releasing yourself from your sullen position.

“I–uhm, hey! Do you want to know about my college application process?" you asked.

Jisung furrowed his brows, his jaw agape to say words that refused to come out.

He was sure you touched him—his ears were a weird body part to touch, but he was willing to take whatever you gave him. But he wanted to know what it meant or if you had something to tell him but was deterred by his reaction. Could it have meant something? He should consult the internet about that!

The subject change was ridiculous, too! Have college applications started already? He knew his teachers were reminding the class about it daily. However, the urgency among the student body hadn't started yet, so he assumed there was still time. 

"I–I mean–"Seeing your nervous expression, he decided to let the matter go. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Should we start applying already?"

"I applied a little earlier for a specific college I wanted to attend just to boost my chances. Otherwise, I am applying at the same time as everyone else. You should start preparing for it, though," you said, glancing at him. "I got into the interview round. If I do well during the interview, I'll be accepted."

Jisung widened his eyes. He fist-bumped your arm. “Look at you, being one step ahead of the rest of us.”

"I'm not the only student in our grade who did an early application," you said. 

“But did they all get invited to an interview?”

"I don't know. I'm not really friends with any of them," you muttered as you put together a few pieces of paper. "I started practicing with my mom, and she wrote down some sample questions for me. Here, take a look."

Jisung moved away from leaning on your desk to sitting across from you. You turned your chair and handed him the stack of paper with multiple correction marks. You pursed your lips nervously as you waited for him to finish reading, watching as his mouth moved across each word and his head nodded in understanding.

He has never looked so serious before. You were too used to seeing the animated side of him, and you realized you'd never watched him pay attention to something boring before. He actually looked very decent when he was concentrated. It wasn't a surprise.

"Most of them are good answers." He pointed at the question and flipped the paper around for you to see. "Except for this one." 

You knew all the mock questions and answers like the back of your hand, so you barely had to read what he pointed at. "What's wrong with that?"

"It's asking about what you want to do in the future. I'm guessing if a school is asking that question, they are trying to gauge the student's career path and how it can align with the school's personal interest," Jisung said, looking at you through his fallen bangs. "You can't tell the interviewer you don't have a dream."

“I don’t,” you said. “I don’t have anything. I don’t have anything I want to do.”

“No one is ever honest in an interview," Jisung pointed the tip of the pen at you. “You can lie.”

You shrugged. “I suppose? I’ll just take any job that is offered to me.” 

With the current market, a college graduate would be lucky to be offered a job, so there wasn't the option to choose unless you were extraordinary. But a lot of people are not. Even if many people are extraordinary, it will be oversaturated, and a new standard will emerge. Nobody will ever be good. 

Everyone will only be good for a little bit until they're not enough anymore.

“What? No!” Jisung waved his hand dismissively. “Come on, [Name], you must have a dream job!”

"I really don't. I just want to earn money.” Your lips arched downward. When Jisung frowned at you, you could only roll your eyes. You asked, almost accusingly, ”Don’t look at me like that. Do you have a dream job?” 

Jisung nodded without hesitation. "I want to be a producer.”

“Like a filmmaker?” you asked, tilting your head. “You don’t strike me as a movie watcher.”

“That’s a director,” he pointed at you, “and you are wrong. I love movies. I watch dating shows all the time.”

"Directors are by default also producers because they produce films," you returned the point, "and you are wrong. Dating shows are not movies. They are variety shows."

“You know what I mean!”

“Do I, though?”

Jisung rolled his tongue over his front teeth, a chuckle sneaking onto his shoulders. “Do you have to argue with me about everything?” 

"You think I like to start fights? Is that how it is?" you gritted out playfully, tilting your head to stare at him dead in the eyes. When he breathed out the chuckle, you relaxed and shook your head. "If you're not planning to write stories, are you planning to produce music?"

“You are correct!” he exclaimed with a congratulatory clap. “I sing my own songs during every school talent show.”

“Those are nap sessions to me,” you said. 

The school forces everyone to attend the talent shows, but since the assembly hall would remain dark for most of it, you always used the time to doze off in your seat.

It was a miracle that you've never fallen off the chair, and it's a shame that you've missed every performance Jisung has performed over the past three years. He has never won them, but he must be excellent. 

He pressed his hands to his heart and made a cartoonish gunshot noise. He leaned back, whining in pain. “Oh, you sure are hurtful, [Name]!”

"Don't be dramatic. It's not like I singled you out. I slept through everyone's performance," you said as you leaned forward to kick him. "Are you going to also work part-time as an idol, or do you want to only work behind the scenes?"

"Either one is fine. I don't necessarily have to be in a company. I can get big on doing covers, too," Jisung said.

You nodded in acknowledgment. You couldn’t provide any insight because you knew nothing about the industry besides the songs and a few outrageously famous individuals it produces. 

"Don't forget me when you get famous," you said. "But if you need anything, like an insightful critique on your latest album, do find me. If a hater like me likes it, everyone else will like it too."

“But I will also be hanging out with you,” he said, giving you finger guns. "I'm not going to find you just because I need you to do something for me."

"Uh, have you met me before?"

"Yes, and I hereby announce that I, Han Jisung, adore your presence," he said, dipping his head into a slight bow.

You defeatedly scoffed at him as you pressed your hand to his head, pushing him away from you. “You're so dumb."

"You love me for it!” He grinned.

You sighed inwardly. You do, you really do.

You two shared a moment of silence. You hadn't even realized you two were comfortable enough with each other that a long silence wouldn't result in you wanting to bury your head in your arms and never see the light of day again.

"You're really not going to show me your soul mark?” he said suddenly. “Could you at least tell me who he is? I’ll kick his ass for you."

"Hey, here's an idea. Your debut album should be called 'Jisung really can't mind his goddamn business,'" you said. 

Jisung frowned, turning away from you childishly, and you hoped he always forgets to mind his goddamn business. 

The admission interview landed on a school day and took place at the college of choice. They picked a time after lunch hours so students could ask their teachers for the day’s school work before leaving early. Some students choose not to attend school the day to prepare, but you weren’t one of them.

Your palms were sweaty as you stood before the cafeteria door, debating whether or not you should walk in and look for Jisung. You told him you wouldn’t be having lunch today since you wanted to practice and prepare for the interview on your own, and you urged him to spend lunchtime with his friends instead. 

In retrospect, you should have taken Jisung up on his offer to help you rehearse your answers. It would be better practice to have someone play the role of the interviewer than having you spend most of the time trying not to feel awkward talking to yourself. Besides, his presence would have provided emotional support or a decent distraction. 

You started to panic the more you looked at your notes. The more you panic, the more you stuttered and messed up your practice. By then, thousands of worst-case scenarios had already been through your head, bringing your self-esteem to a negative. 

The only person you thought would be able to calm you down was Han Jisung. Not just because he was your soulmate but also because he was the only friend you’ve got.

Unconsciously, your legs had already brought you to Jisung's table in the cafeteria. When you made your way there, your eyes focused only on his silhouette. His friends ceased to chat with each other when you stood by the table with an unreadable look on your face. It took a brief glance for Jisung to see the worried gleams behind your eyes, and his brows furrowed.

As he opened his mouth, another voice spoke, beating him to talking first. 

Jiae waved excitedly at you, a smile on her face. “[Name]! You are here at the right time. We were just talking about something interesting!"

You removed your eyes from Jisung and turned to look at the unfamiliar girl. You tilted your head to the side, unsure how to respond to her, trying to pull you into the middle of a supposed interesting conversation. “What–what were you talking–”

“Can you get some pudding for my friends and me? We forgot to get them when we were in line to get our food,” she cut you off, reaching a hand out to you on the table. “Gossip sounds better with good food, you know?”

You blinked and turned to look at the line of students waiting with their trays in hand, moving like ants one by one to speak to the lunch lady. She has a terrible tone and was never pleasant, but at least she was willing to talk to you about things other than lunch preferences. Either way, you didn’t come here for this. 

“You can get it yourself,” you said.

“But we are in the middle of an interesting conversation!” She pouted. “I didn’t want to pause it. That’s why I’m asking you for a favor.”

Jisung brushed his hand on his pants and turned to Jiae. He didn’t know they were missing the dessert or that it was essential to the conversation. But since you were already here to speak to him anyway, he thought he could do that and deal with the pudding problem on his way back. “Actually, I got it–“

“You’re in high school. How interesting can your conversations really get? What else do you talk about besides celebrities who accomplished something in their life and some other dumb things?” you retorted with a faux dismissive frown. “The shop is literally right there. It won’t take you five minutes.”

Jisung snapped his head around to grimace at you. His eyes widened in panic because he never thought you would take a jab at his friends. You caught his glance and shrunk. 

“My god, if you’re gonna be annoying about it!” One of the girls got up from her chair with a scoff. She faintly checked your shoulder as she walked past you. “I’ll get the damn pudding since it’s so fucking hard to.” 

“Thank you,” Jiae sounded after her friend before returning to the table.

It was awkward and quiet after the unnecessary scene. Everyone at the table pretended to peer at you discreetly and mutter under their breath.

They made sure it appeared as your fault and wanted you to see that they were being the bigger person and not directly accusing you of it. Except they were. They were stealing glances at you and talking amongst themselves. 

“That wasn’t nice, [Name],” Jiae said. “I didn’t know why you said those.”

You flicked your nails with increasing velocity. There was an urge to apologize. You told yourself to hold it back. When you spoke, it wasn’t defensive or demanding. You sounded confused. “I didn’t say anything wrong.” 

Waiting in line to buy the pudding for a bunch of people or being ostracized in real-time by them shouldn’t even begin to top your list of worries now. You’ve got more important things to deal with! You’ve got college, your future!

“You provoked me first!” you pointed out desperately. “I came here with a valid reason, not to get bossed around by you people.”

“'You people' is some way to describe your fellow classmates.”

“Asking for a small favor is apparently provocative now.”

“What? I didn’t mean it like that.” Your pleading eyes turned to Jisung. 

He was the only one who would most likely get you out of this situation compared to anyone else sitting around the table. He tensed up as if all his friends’ eyes were on him and they were all judging his next move. 

You’ve put him in a terrible position. Between his friends and you, who were also his friends, he understood that Jiae should not have continued to push you to do something you refused. Her friend also should not have made a scene out of something trivial. But you also said something you shouldn’t have.

You knew you were wrong because you two talked about a variety of things when you two were together. Why couldn’t you apply that to him and his friends?

Jisung licked his lower lip, watching your fingers fumble with each other and your teary eyes gleaming with hurt. He curled his fists tightly as he turned to Jiae, who stared at him expectantly, and he looked down at the table.

“I…” he bit his tongue. “I don’t know.” 

You gave him a few seconds to say anything else before you breathed out a hopeless scoff, realizing he had chosen all his friends over you. You supposed that was normal. He has known them for years, and they probably never forced him to work for their friendship.

It was easier being their friends than it was being yours. You were sure of that. It just hurt to have it backfire. 

He felt a harsh tug at his chest, a sharp pain that beat along with his slow heart when he saw the disappointment on your face. Not the playful kind of disappointment he has always seen from you. This was genuine, paired with a few tears quickly wiped away. 

You let your guard down to ask for him, and he ignored you. This was a true heartbreak. A faint moment of hatred that you held for him flashed before your eyes before you turned around and walked away.

“Wait, [Name]!” He shot up from his seat, leaving his group of friends to follow you out of the cafeteria. 

You sped through the hall with him high on your tail, apologies flying out of his mouth until there was barely any meaning attached to them anymore. Once you arrived at your locker, you stopped and turned to him, a veil dark over your eyes.

“What do you want?” you asked.

He exhaled with difficulty. Your eyes freaked him out. It was the same from when he first tried to befriend you, back when you hated his guts and wanted nothing to do with him. This couldn’t be it. It couldn’t revert to the beginning. He cared about you too much for you to not want to know him anymore. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Okay,” you said and opened your locker. “Leave me alone. I have to go soon.”

“Oh, come on,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry. I really am. I froze and just… I don’t know what happened either.”

“That’s convenient.” You randomly messed with the things in your locker. “The next time I do something horrible, I’ll tell them I don’t know what came over me.” 

Jisung groaned, but he was left speechless. He wasn’t sure what else to say or do if an apology wasn’t good enough for you, and rewinding time wasn’t possible.

“You came looking for me,” he said. “You don’t have to forgive me, but at least let me help you with whatever it was.”

“Yeah, right,” you stuttered out a fake chuckle. “I’m gonna let you help me after the phenomenal help you just provided.”

This might be the rare occasion where he let time deal with the mistake instead of going out of his way and making an embarrassment of himself by sticking his head into the mud by your feet.

You would be furious if he did that. It would be more embarrassing for you to receive that kind of apologetic attention than for him to be treated less than human. He wouldn’t complain. He did it first. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hands uncomfortable by his side. “Please try to forgive me.”

His lovely eyes drew you into him, an uncontrollable habit of the mind. You tried to let yourself give in. You wanted to tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that only a tiny table of students were there to experience the invisible bullying, that it could have been much worse! 

But it hurt looking at him. It reminded you that you weren’t the only person in his life and that he had other friends he’d been around for much longer than he’d known you.

It gave you a reality check that just because you two were soulmates, it didn’t mean you had an advantage. It told you that even though Jisung swore to love his soulmate, he didn’t love you when he didn’t know you were the one.

If you two hadn’t been soulmates, perhaps he would have never cared at all. Did that not defeat the defining feature of love? The choice was there. He didn’t choose you.

“I have something to do,” you muttered. “I’m gonna go.”

You raised the arm opposite to the locker door, and he subconsciously leaned his head toward it. But you only reached over to close your locker, slowly revealing that your other hand was occupied with books. 

“Oh hey. I didn’t think you’d be up here today,” Felix greeted when he saw you emerge from the rooftop door. 

He sat up from trying to nap on the floor, his eyes squinted to avoid the sun. You approached him sluggishly and sat down, dropping your books by your hip. He raised a brow curiously as you leaned back onto your arms and sighed like you’d walked a mile. 

“Did the interview happen early?” he asked. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks. I’m confident I will do well,” you replied. “I’m feeling the jitters.” 

He raised a brow for a moment before he mirrored your action and put his face under the sun, feeling its warmth. “Those statements contradict each other.”

“I’m sure this is the speaking condition I want to have going into an interview,” you said. 

He laughed, and you relaxed your shoulders. You sometimes forgot Jisung wasn’t the only person who could alleviate your stress. He was merely the first person you thought to go to. Over these past few weeks, you have become good friends with Felix, and he shares your burdens and even knows of the past you never told Jisung. 

Things would have been different if you had come to the roof first. His sunny disposition could also be what you needed.

“Do you think I’ll do well?” 

Felix opened an eye to peer at you. He hummed thoughtfully for show before he replied, “I don’t know. These things are unpredictable, but I really hope you will.”

“See, Jisung would have told me I would do so well, but they would be stupid not to accept me.”

“But I’m not him. That’s why you came up here to find me,” Felix said. “My response was different than his, wasn’t it?” 

You opened your eyes and hunched forward, leaving the sun in your shadow. From how he sounded, he wasn’t upset that you’ve considered him a second option. You felt guilty, nonetheless, because you cared about him a lot. You never wanted him to feel less as a friend in any capacity.

“I swear nothing gets past those detective skills,” you said, looking at him as he enjoyed the sun. You stayed silent momentarily before suddenly speaking, “I’m glad you’re here to help me, Felix.”

He grinned, finally opening his eyes and raising his brows at you. “It’s no problem.”

“I see you’ve cut your hair,” you said, gesturing to your head. “I thought your blonde hair was natural when you first told me you moved here from Australia.”

“It is,” he said. “They wouldn’t believe me and forced me to dye it black.”

“I don’t believe in you,” you hummed. “You look horrible, too.” 

You patted your school uniform as you left the entrance of the universe after politely bidding the receptionist goodbye. 

There was no way for you to tell whether you’ve done a great job. The professors’ expressions were reserved as you were speaking to them. Only a smile could be seen when the grueling process was finally over. Now it’s just the gut-wrenching process of waiting for the letter.

You strolled across the campus. When you first arrived, you were in awe of how big it was, and now you just disliked the distance it would take to get out of here. 

Gently sighing, you ran the interview over in your head a few times more, finding the conversation different each time as you falsified your memories to shine a negative light on yourself, all so you could force down the hope of acceptance in yourself.

You believed in your opinion of how you did, which was downright horrible. It wasn’t a good feeling to distrust your ability, but you figured it would be worse when the rejection letter came in, and you thought you had a chance, so you didn’t stop yourself.

After texting your mother and Felix about how things went, you left the chat box and were disappointed that Jisung hadn’t sent you anything since lunch. He shouldn’t have to, but you thought he would. 

After several hours of not thinking about him and what happened, you were much less angry than you were. Besides, you wanted to talk to him about the interview. You convinced yourself to feel bad about how you did and wanted him here for support. 

Pausing your feet, you clicked his name and stared at the chat box. You typed something, deleted it, retyped something else, and deleted it again. What should you say? That you forgave him? That you were sorry for making something out of nothing? That you were done wrestling with your conscience and you were actually his soulmate?

Tears dropped onto the screen, and you wiped them away. You turned the phone off and wiped your eyes with your arm, walking amongst sounds of sniffing and whimpers as you prayed that no college students walk by. 

Brushing your uneasy hands together, you blinked away the tears and stopped momentarily again when you saw a familiar figure standing at the entrance arch of the campus. He caught sight of you, too, and reluctantly raised his arm to wave at you. 

You hiccuped in question but began to walk toward him. Jisung’s face slowly came into view the closer you approached. Eventually, you were close enough for him to see that you had been crying.

He pursed his lips, his hands curling and uncurling. “It went that bad?”

His soft voice hit your heart and squeezed your tear ducts. You cried, giving frantic nods in between. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“It went that bad,” he muttered. “I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but–“you hiccupped–“I don’t–I don’t believe you.”

His heart dropped. You weren’t talking about school or the interview anymore. You were talking about him. 

He didn’t know what to do. You have a comeback for everything he said and one for everything he planned to say. It didn’t occur to him that maybe not saying anything was the best thing to do, but there were many wordless ways to reconcile besides—he exhaled nervously. 

There was one way. He doubted you’d like it.

He gently pulled at your wrist and brought you toward him. He hugged you loosely. His skin was warm, and so was yours, but you felt hotter than anything because of the sobbing. The shape of his body was not extraordinary; he was like every teenage boy, and most of them were not athletic. His hands were careful, as they should be, in an attempt to comfort.

There wasn’t anything to him, but this was your first hug with someone your age, someone you liked. 

It was impressive, to say the least, how easy it was for you to drop yourself at his hands entirely. 

“I’m…” he closed his mouth and hugged you tighter. “I was a coward.”

You pressed your mouth to his shoulder and hugged him back, tears sticking his shirt to his skin. Your cries were muffled, but even without that, they were quieter and contained within the peripheral of his hearing. 

“You hurt me.” Your nails dug into his back. Your soul mark pressed across his spine. “You hurt me.”

“Yes.” He bit the inside of his lower lip to avoid apologizing and to stop the sound of tears cleanly falling down his cheeks. “I will never do that again.”

You could hear him cry. He couldn’t hide his sadness if his life depended on it. You wished you stood your ground longer, but torturing him was never your intention, and it was for the first time you believed he meant everything he said. He’s sorry, and he’ll never do it again.

“Do you want to have dinner somewhere?” you asked after you pulled away. “I’m starving.”

“Actually,” his voice was strained as he threw himself off his train of thought, “all of us are heading over to Jiae’s home for dinner and a sleepover. “

You furrowed your brows. “That's sudden.”

“It’s actually not.” He scratched the back of his head. “Seungmin shit-talked us into apologizing to you, and we thought this would be a good opportunity.” 

“He should have spoken up when it was happening,” you said.

"I know. He must have his reasons not to.” Jisung said. "But can you come along anyway? I'd love it if you will. You can get to know my friends. They’re not all bad, I promise.”

You sighed. If he opened his mouth to ask, how would you refuse? He could be right. It may require some getting used to before they let you blend into their friend group. You also had a bad first impression of Jisung, and you gave him a chance. You could do that for his friends.

"Can we get something to drink first?”

"Of course," he said. “It’s my treat. Tell me everything about the interview.”

“Ugh, don’t even remind me,” you groaned, taking impatient steps forward.

He laughed at your eagerness, his hand slowly gliding down until it met yours. Your fingers were loosely interlaced. It was timid and tender, like hugging a ticking bomb. You went on about the interview, what they asked, how the professors were, and how you replied to their questions. 

Slowly and carefully, your fingers were wholly locked together. Neither of you minded.

Spin the Bottle is a better game than Truth or Dare.

Truth or dare engages people in dense, involuntary acts and unconvincing lies that people have to spring up on the spur of the moment. Spin the bottle serves a chance that it might never land on you. Even if it did, so what? A kiss on the cheek will always suffice.

You kept repeating it in your head as you sat in a circle of unfamiliar people. Jiae insisted that you sit beside her despite her friends sending you uncomfortable glances. 

Jisung, who sat across from you, shared a pointed look with you before the game started that asked if you wanted him to step in and pull you out of your position.

You had shook your head. The tension was awkward enough when you showed up, and his desperate vouch for you made it worse when his friends verbally questioned your presence. You didn’t want to make it worse by refusing to sit where you were wanted. 

In retrospect, you should have thought this through. All you did all night was rub your arms and feel out of place. Jisung could try to include you, but he also has to engage with his friends and could never be at two places at once.

You had gobbled your dinner so you could hide in the kitchen, where you had a decent conversation with Seungmin, who admitted that he should have spoken up at the cafeteria this afternoon but also did not feel bad that he didn’t. You appreciated he stood by his decision. You thought you two could become friends because of it. 

Annoyed groans ensued after a round of Jisung frantically smooching Hyunjin’s cheek. People who enjoyed the game were always the most boring to observe, but even you couldn't help but breathe out a giggle or two at their over-exaggerated action. 

After the two lovebirds were finished, Hyunjin reached out to turn the water bottle. It landed on Seungmin, who rolled his eyes when his friends whistled and hollered. 

He got down from the couch and reached over to turn the water bottle. You focused on it intently, watching as it slowed to a halt and realizing that the tip of the bottle was pointed directly at you.

You opened your mouth and attempted to scoot off to the side. "Oh, I think it is pointing at you, Jiae."

“What? No, it’s not.” Hyunjin leaned down to the level of the bottle. He opened one eye for accuracy as it shifted between the bottle and you. “Uh-huh. I’m sure it’s on you, [Name].”

You blew air out of your mouth, your eyes widening awkwardly. Talk about speed-running a friendship. You just introduced yourselves to each other in the kitchen, and you openly accused him of keeping silent when you were being picked on while he explained it by telling you he didn’t really care when it was happening. 

Looking over at Jisung, you saw that he was suppressing a giggle, gesturing to his friend and whispering inside jokes you would never understand. You shuddered when you caught his eyes while he shrugged, hardening his gaze at you mischievously.

Upon the silence, Jiae gigged as she waved at Seungmin. 

“I know you’re not being shy,” she said. “Or do you just not want to kiss them?”

“You’re right,” Seungmin replied monotonously. “I don’t want to kiss them.”

Your jaw dropped with a disdainful scoff. His expression was valid, but you didn’t like that he said it first. 

“I don’t want to kiss you either. I barely know you,” you retorted. “You’re not all that, Kim Seungmin.”

“Where did that even come from?” he questioned with a raised brow. “This can’t be about what I said in the kitchen, can it?”

“What did you say in the kitchen?”

“What if it is?” You both ignored Hyunjin’s question. You leaned forward with a glare, but your lips quirked gradually into a patronizing smirk. “Why does it matter to you? I thought you didn’t care.”

“I didn’t.”

“The conversation would have ended way earlier if that’s true.”

Hyunjin nudged Jisung’s side with his elbow as his eyes darted between you and Seungmin, who were sparking up a lightning line across your glares. Jisung turned to him, equally as confused but intrigued by the conversation differently.

Hyunjin was here for gossip. Jisung wanted to know when you even had a conversation with Seungmin and what you guys talked about that was enough to allow you two to argue like this—

“Dude,” Hyunjin giggled under his breath, “this is the beginning of every rival to lovers story.”

—like you two had chemistry together. 

Seungmin pursed his lips in silence as he accessed your furrowed brows. Next to you was Jiae, whose fingers uncontrollably tapped against her crossed legs impatiently. 

If there was anything he knew, he was in better standing with you than with her because of all the accusations he threw at the friend group this afternoon after Jisung left the table. 

She was making an attempt to single you out and humiliate you. You were trying to put him down out of a personal grudge. He disliked you less than he couldn’t care about her.

Most importantly, he wanted to spite you both.

“I’ll kiss you,” he said. “Actually, I’ll kiss you on the mouth because I don’t care.”

You widened your eyes and stuck your tongue to your inner cheek, a chuckle of disbelief vanishing when you watched him get up from the couch to walk toward you. He never struck you as someone who would care about his first kiss, or a kiss. You couldn’t imagine someone like him having a first kiss already.

You wanted to move out of the way or to verbally protest, but the competitive spirit in your heart told you to go through with it so you wouldn’t be some big loser. 

You glared at him when he crouched in front of you, leaning away from his hand when he tried to hold your face. “Are you serious?”

Seungmin smirked triumphantly, his nose scrunching. “Scared?”

“Who’s scared?” 

“You are.”

“I’m–“ you pursed your lips and exhaled. “I’m not. I just–“

Before you finished your sentence, he leaned in to plant a peck on your cheek, causing you to gasp. Your hand automatically flew up to grip his wrist, a flushing heat spread over your face when he leaned away and met eyes with you. The hair on your neck rose at the unexpected occasion, and if you weren’t so appalled, you would have noticed the tint of red on his ears.

Jisung's initial playfulness was partially gone when you and Seungmin were bantering. It has completely vanished now that the deed was done. At his angle, he wasn’t sure if his friend really kissed you on the mouth, and your reactions gave him no benefit of the doubt.

He rolled the inside of his bottom lip over his front teeth; grind, pull, grind, pull. There was a knot in his stomach he couldn’t loosen and frustration in his fists he couldn’t uncurl. When the stare you and Seungmin shared prolonged for over a few seconds, he forced himself to look down at his lap.

He hadn’t realized it, but all that crossed his mind was that he was being close. Seungmin was being too close to you. It was out of his comfort zone. He wanted to get between you and laugh him away. 

“Jisung! Spin the bottle!"

He snapped out of his thoughts. Seungmin returned to his seat on the couch, and you looked at him curiously. Everyone was looking at him, but you were the only face he cared to decipher. 

Hesitantly, he reached out and turned the bottle. His heart beats with every turn, flickering with prayers that it lands on you. Not just because he wanted to kiss you but also because he couldn’t fathom kissing anyone else. 

Miraculously, the tip of the bottle landed on you again. There was a gentle uproar in the circle as Jisung’s visibly perked up. In his head, he had already crawled over to you and pressed his lips against yours. In his dreams, you accepted it. 

In his dreams, you were together, love clear, and hearts inter-winded. He always woke up blushing, recalling every moment as he stared at the ceiling until his mother came knocking. 

It also plagued him sometimes. He wasn’t sure how he could explain to his future soulmate that he had already fallen in love with someone else.

Your alarmed gaze met his when he searched for you. There was a burn where your soul mark was, and you palmed over it uneasily. When Seungmin spun the bottle, you didn’t particularly cared if he kissed you outside of the conditioned value that a kiss was meant between lovers. But with Jisung—he’s too important. 

This would be the closest you have ever been with each other. His lips on your skin. It could not happen because of some stupid game. It could not be dictated by a sleepover activity you didn’t want to participate in.

“[Name]! Can you change out the water bottle? It’s been squeezed so much it doesn’t even turn that well anymore,” Jiae requested quickly when she noticed Jisung getting up. She moved to the center, grabbed the plastic bottle, and handed it to you. “Here. You’re such a love!”

“Huh? It’s a plastic bottle. You can just blow it back up–" Hyunjin clamped his mouth shut when the girl threw him a threatening smile.

You received the bottle reluctantly but nodded anyway. This was a good reason to escape the game. Without arguing, you stood up and walked out of the living room. Jisung watched your departure with disappointment, his feet pausing into a dejected position. Hyunjin yelped when he dropped his weight on the floor and sulked. 

“Why would you do that?”

Jiae, who had sat down with a satisfied expression, tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”

“Why did you do that?” Jisung looked up, frustrated but not rude enough to show his anger. He rubbed his face and dropped his head between his knees, a bored and monotonous hum fleeing his mouth. “I almost had it. You ruined my chance. Seungmin did it and you ruined mine.”

“Jisung?" Hyunjin called gently with a poke to his friend’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not!” Jisung exclaimed. He let go of his face and sighed. “You’re being rude. You have been rude to [Name] this whole time. Getting puddings, switching out a water bottle. They’re my friend, too!”

Jiae looked startled, as did everyone else. Jisung had never been one to scold. He was always the mediator while the others stepped up to make everything worse. This headstrong side of him has only been brought out by you, back at the library when he accused you and this moment. 

Ever since what happened at the cafeteria, there was no chance that Jisung would let that kind of disappointment flash before your eyes again.

“That’s one way to make sure she’ll go to prom with you, Jisung,” someone said.

“I haven’t even asked,” Jisung said. “I don’t think I plan to anymore.”

There was a moment of painful silence. Hyunjin and Seungmin shared a knowing glance with each other, acknowledging that your presence alone might have just ruined the overall atmosphere of their friend group, but their eyes were accepting when they turned to look at Jisung.

If Jisung cared about you this much to break out of his comfort zone, they would do the same.

“Um, I’m not sure if it’s okay, but I got a different type of water bottle.” You entered the living room again to be welcomed by a dreadful quietness. Glancing at Jisung questioningly, you decided to stand by the door and wait it out.

Jiae rolled her eyes and scoffed. Scrambling onto her feet, she brushed past you to leave the living room. “Whatever, I'm heading to bed. You guys can have the guest room."

You made space as her friends scooted past you, leaving you bewildered. Last time you checked, it only took you a minute to get a new water bottle, not half an hour. Hyunjin and Seungmin got up, too, the taller boy dragging his friend along and bidding you a cheerful farewell before disappearing into the hallway. 

"Nothing happened," Jisung replied without your need to ask.

“Okay.” You eyed him suspiciously as he approached you. “I'm gonna head back home then."

"What? No, stay,” he said, gesturing upstairs. “We're all sleeping in the guest room.”

“Your friends–“

“Would love to get to know you too.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. There must be a limited number of beds in the guest room, if there wasn’t just one. You would not be comfortable sleeping with strangers and weren’t sure if you were ready to be so close to Jisung. Your odd presence would mess up the sleeping arrangement, so you’d rather leave peacefully. 

“I’ll sleep in the living room. You go hang out with your friends,” you said. “This is a sleepover. Go and have fun. Besides, it’s the best chance for you to ask Jiae to prom right now.”

Jisung opened his mouth to protest, but you interrupted him by pushing him back and getting him out of the living room.”  Don’t make this more complicated than it has to be. I’ll stay here, I promise. You will see me in the morning.”

He pouted, looking at you as he took a few steps back. He stopped by the staircase, his hand holding onto the railing in hopes that you would change your mind at the last minute, but you only shooed him away with your arms. 

"I'll be fine. I have the couch all to myself," you said. "Go have a nice girl talk."

You shut the door between the hallway and the living room and turned around to face the empty area. With a tired sigh, you moved over to your bag and got out your essentials, preparing to start your nighttime routine alone.

Jisung had woken up in the middle of the night. His groggy eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light outside the window before he stood up and carefully stepped over his friends who slept on the floor. He put his arms out to feel for the walls and any obstacles as he headed for the kitchen to get a well-deserved glass of water.

Opening the door to the living room, his eyes trailed from the dining table to the couch, and it hit him that you had chosen to sleep on the couch. He tilted his head to the side, his thirst for water disappearing as he approached your sleeping figure instead. The floor beneath him was cold, but the edge of the couch where you lay wasn’t. 

He knelt at the side, his arms flat against the soft surface with his chin on top.

Your peaceful face was one of the things he loved about you. You were utterly unguarded and unaware. Sometimes, he thought the only time you weren’t angry was when you were asleep, and he wished things were different. He wished nothing bad ever happened to you. 

Reaching out to gently trace the back of his finger against your cheek, his eyes admired your features every step before they landed on your arm.

The sleeve of your sweater was scooted up loosely around your wrist, threatening to reveal the soul mark you had once desperately hidden from his sight. You hid it from him for a reason, and he would have otherwise respected your wishes if curiosity didn’t get the best of him. 

Observing your stillness, his hand timidly moved to grab hold of the fabric and pulled it up your forearm. The long sentence began to reveal itself. He angled his head to look at the words better.

tell me baby you're the happiest when you're with me right

Jisung inhaled, and his breathing stilled. He told you that. That was the first thing he has ever said to you. It was the exact line. 

He’s the one. He is your soulmate.

He is yours.

Your eyes were opened when Jisung turned to look at your face. You had been awake ever since you felt the gentle touch on your cheek, but you were too late to have stopped him from reading your mark.

You trembled, expecting Jisung to show you anger or at least something akin to frustration. But he only held your gaze under the soft light. 

"I'm your soulmate,” he whispered.

You nodded, and your voice was equally quiet. “Yeah.”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I didn’t think you’d love me.”

Jisung sighed heartbrokenly. How could you still think after all the conversations you’ve had? 

Wordlessly, he got onto his knees and leaned over so his face could get close to yours. Your eyes were getting hazy at the proximity, and you couldn’t do anything but wait for him. He took the initiative, mostly because he felt like if he didn’t take the chance to kiss you right now, he would regret it later.

You closed your eyes as soon as you felt the soft surface of his lips touch yours. The next few seconds as Jisung pressed himself up against you were pure ecstasy, the blossomed longing in his chest withering into fallen petals before the breeze blew them toward you.

Your hands found their way to his neck, pulling him down as you sunk against the pillow. The background had dissolved into a shade of white. It was only the two of you, sharing an intimate moment on the couch with the dim moonlight shining at the end of your legs as if it was shyly glancing away from Jisung’s wandering hands and your delighted expression.

Jisung was short of breath when his hands went from your hips to your hair. He hadn’t even recognized it until he found himself laying his entire weight down on your body in exhaustion, feeling your heart beat in line with his.

He wouldn’t have known. Your lips were like oxygen, and he couldn’t tell if he was breathing when he kissed you. He gently angled his face to take your bottom lip, pressing tight for a long moment before pulling away, resisting the temptation to dive in again when he saw your eyes.

You two didn’t speak. There wasn’t a need to say any words. Your actions had conveyed pretty much everything you needed to know about him and him about you.

Refusing to leave, Jisung laid his head on your shoulder, the warmth of your body giving him complete solace. He found himself never wanting to leave this position.

He had known all along the feeling he held for you. He wouldn’t have debated his feelings for you and how they conflicted with his future soulmate if he didn’t know. It took a slight push for him to finally bring it to light. 

Jisung smiled a little at the thought of having a sacred bond between you and him, and he would be eternally amazed at how miraculous it was. 

Despite not knowing the truth, the link had brought you two together anyway. It pulled him towards you and made him feel things he had never felt. He didn’t need to know his soulmate to love them; he had been right before. He couldn’t imagine never being in love with you.

You woke up earlier than everyone else and slowly slipped out of the couch, leaving Jisung sound asleep. You moved quick, getting ready in the bathroom and sneaking back to the living room to pack your things and leave with a small note stuck to the tea table.

But Jisung was a step ahead of you, his eyes big and round as he greeted you from the couch, his lips pursing into an excited grin. 

You melted, offering him a faint smile. “Hey, Jisung. I’m going to head back home, so I’ll see you in school, okay?”

Jisung sat up with a pout. “Why? Did your mom call?”

“Uh, sure,” you replied.

“Oh,” he nodded as he exited the couch, “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” you said. 

“It’s Saturday. We can hang out!” he exclaimed, rubbing his head. “And, you know, I can meet your mom.” 

“What? That’s so–“ you laughed as you aggressively zipped your bag. “You’re funny!”

He squinted his eyes. He thought he was hallucinating because he was groggy, but there was something off about you. When you threw your bag over your shoulder, he reached out to hold your hand and pulled you back.

“Hold on, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You’re off.”

“Off to go home! Yes, I am!” 

“[Name].”

“Okay, fine.” You sighed. “It’s nothing. I’ve always been like this. You’re you, and I’m me.”

You wouldn’t look at him in the eyes. Judging by your impulsive actions and the lack of bashfulness, he knew this was about what happened yesterday night. 

“You’re pushing me away,” he said, his voice sounding like alarm bells. “You’re freaked out.”

“Jisung, I'm not pushing you away," you muttered. “We're still friends.”

“You kissed me back,” he pointed out in disbelief. “Your arms were around my neck. I was on top of you. We made out.”

You gulped at the thought of that. It had been going on rewind in your head the whole morning. Even now, as you looked at Jisung, you felt your gaze gravitating towards his lips.

“I’m not ready, Jisung,” you whispered. “I can’t do it now.”

“Okay.” He nodded, his voice much softer. “But it meant something. It meant something to you?”

"Yeah, I guess," you muttered. "But you–"

“You are very worried about me.”

"You don't love me, Jisung," you whispered. “You love me because we're soulmates.”

That wasn’t true, but telling you that wouldn’t suddenly change your point of view. Otherwise, Jisung wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to convince you that he was wholeheartedly in love with you.

You licked your lip and pulled away from him. “I'll see you at school,”

The softness of your voice pierced a hole in his heart, but he told himself to be patient. The time will come when he knows what to say, which will surely make you change your mind and believe that someone could love you.

When he finally crossed through your barrier, and you finally let him all the way in, he could never let you go again.

Things have changed. You two continued to hang out after school, having dinner in a different restaurant every day and chatting away as you would. But occasionally, a moment of dreadful silence would send the back of your hair raising.

You hated it as much as you hated the prom proposal you were witnessing.

Standing at the corner of the cafeteria where the entrance doors were, your deadpan eyes watched as everyone stopped to watch the public proposal unfold. No one questioned when Jisung stepped up on the table with empty hands as if they had expected this to happen at some point.

There were no banners, flowers, speakers, or microphones. It was him and his voice alone. You were certain half of your annoyance came from seeing his bare minimum. 

Jiae playfully shoved her friends as they pushed her forward, making her stand close to the table. She looked up at Jisung expectantly, and Jisung looked unfocused and nervous. It took a harsh shove from his Seungmin and a sharp glare thrown toward you for him to snap out of his trance.

Jisung crouched suddenly, facing Seungmin, who rolled his eyes in return.

Jisung ran a hand through his hair, a grimace on his face. ”Is it necessary? They probably hate public proposals like this.”

“Listen, they are standing all the way over by the doors. Either way, you're going to have to yell for them to hear you," Seungmin pointed out, nudging his head toward the direction you were in.

“So none of us care that Jiae stepped up alone?” Hyunjin asked shakily as he pushed himself closer to Seungmin, occasionally peeking behind Jisung’s shoulder.

Seungmin raised a fist and put it down when Jisung habitually leaned away. He stepped up, leaning over to speak in Jisung's ear. 

“If you want things to return to the way they were, you have to try,” he said, then shrugged. “Either you ask them to prom, or I will.”

"Or I will!” Felix chimed in, “We’ve become pretty good friends. They will go to a friendly prom with me!”

Jisung exhaled deeply. Seungmin was right. He has to properly announce his feelings for both of your sake. You needed to hear from him that he loves you, all business and no jokes.

“Yeah.” He looked off to the side and nodded. “You guys are insufferable. I love you both.”

Seungmin flinched and shook the words off his chest while Hyunjin grinned and sent Jisung flying kisses as he stood up to be in the spotlight. 

“[Name],” Jisung started, his voice echoing throughout the room. He looked over to the side, to where you were standing. When you flashed him a reluctant smile of encouragement, his heart clenched. He didn’t look away as he spoke. “Will you go to prom with me?”

You gasped along with the rest of the students, your eyes widening in shock. His proposal prompted everyone else to stare at you. It was embarrassing. You could only curse, duck your head, and spin to leave the cafeteria.

The crowd hollered in disappointment and hilarity at your reaction. Jisung panicked and jumped off the table, tipping over and barely catching himself when he landed on the ground. He shifted past a sea of people laughing at his face and welcomed the fresh air outside the cafeteria. He ran, turning corners and racing down hallways before he caught up to you.

You could hear the door to your empty classroom burst open harshly and rapid footsteps following behind. You spun around, glaring at him with a heavy frown. It was still baffling that he would do something outrageous, knowing how much you hated the attention. Still, you were more mad at him for the indirect confession than the crowd.

“What was that? We had a plan!"

“No, you had a plan, and I had a plan of my own,” Jisung said, marching up to you. He halted to a stop when he was of considerable distance, and he took a dramatic breath. 

This was the moment for him to change everything. This has to work.

“I love you. I really do. I don’t know how else I can express that besides being straightforward. Just because you don’t believe me or don’t want to believe me does not make my feelings any less true. I can’t read your mind, I don’t know how you feel, but I know that you’re denying my feelings because you don’t think you’re good enough for me, which isn’t a call for you to make. I choose what is best for me

“And fine, maybe I wouldn't have loved you if we weren't soulmates. But you are my soulmate, and I do love you now. Actually, if anything, your lack of trust in me is invalidating and demeaning. It upsets me! You upset me!”

His voice sounded as if he had bottled up many emotions inside. He wasn’t sticking to the script his friends made for him anymore. He was going to pour his heart out to you, and his heart told him he was pretty angry.

You blinked at the increasing grit in his voice. It felt familiar. He called you out once like this; that was the beginning of your friendship. You let your guard down back then because you liked him, and no matter how much you tried to cover your eyes, you could see it was the best decision you’ve made. 

“This is your master plan?” you muttered. “To yell at me?”

“What, no. I’m not yelling at you. I don’t want to yell at you.” His eyes rounded as he waved his hands in disagreement. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

His pleading eyes made you scoff, but there was laughter in them like you couldn’t stand him in the most endearing way possible. 

His shoulders shuddered when you reached for his hands and carefully closed the gap between your feet. 

“This is a chance,” you said. “I’m still not entirely ready for this.”

It took him a moment. When he realized you mailed him an acceptance letter, he squeezed your hands and nodded. “We’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, relief flushing over your chest upon his familiarity, like closing the last page of a long book. You’ve missed his stillness and his presence overall. You’re glad you got to have him back so quickly.

"I'm not going to prom," you said.

"It's okay,” he said. “We can stay home. We can turn on fairy lights and be cliché together."

“As if falling in love with your soulmate isn’t cliché enough,” you snorted with a slight eye roll while Jisung scrunched his nose at how casually you talked about you both.

“Speaking of soulmates,” he said. “You haven't given me an answer yet.”

You tilted your head. “To what?”

Jisung pulled at your sleeve to reveal your soul mark before he turned to look at you, a smirk on his face. "Tell me, baby. You’re the happiest when you're with me, right?”

“Goodbye.” You rolled your eyes, giving him a light shove before spinning on your heels and walking away.

Jisung giggled, catching up to you again and again. Judging by how you smiled as he interlocked your hands, the answer was crystal clear without needing words.

You were both very sure that you were happiest when you were with Han Jisung.

[dilfkillerr]

˚✧ ₊˚ʚ 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓼 — 𝓳𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓸𝓻 𝓪.𝓲

♡┊𝓣𝓦: 𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮

❥ Sugar Daddy || Nanami Kento — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 He wanted a traditional romance, but finding you in a night of sexual frustration... Maybe he had found what he was looking for.

❥ Carlos Oliveira — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 After the worldwide contamination, Carlos was the only one left to contain the city's zombies - however, you had also survived and now, he needed to convince you to stay with him at the base.

❥ Kratos || God of War — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Maybe he started to feel something more for you... And it was strange for him to feel emotions other than anger and hate.

❥ Freak || Joe Mayhem — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 A government experiment gone wrong when they tried to create a perfect war soldier – giving rise to Joe, a man who was pure chaos. Yet you seemed to attract him somehow... And now you had a "scary dog" to guard you.

❥ Scorpion || Kuai Liang — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Oh no... It's his wedding...

❥ Mafia Stepdad || Klaus Morgan — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 He married your mother to cover up the crimes, but at the same time he saw something that interested him a lot in this marriage by adhesion... You.

❥ Nanami Kento — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 You had a promising future as a sorcerer, but you gave it all up to go to Geto's side — and now your former tutor needed to stop you.

❥ Detective coworker || Hermes Charles [FTM BOT] — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Your coworker was a tired and hot dilf, in dire need of getting fucked... And you seemed great for that role and especially for fucking his pussy until he forgot about his problems – However he found himself with more intense feelings for you.

❥ Enemy || Félix Ludwig — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 His hatred was a thick shell that covered an unresolved love; and now he had the opportunity to have you in his hands... Or rather, on his feet.

❥ Alpha cellmate || Reiji Kaito — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 You were the only omega in prison, and luckily, you ended up in the cell of an Alpha who would protect you during your heat.

❥ Femdom || Roxie Katherine — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 She loved turning men like you into beautiful princesses...

❥ Rich Husband || Alex Ludwig — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Everyone thought you only married him because of his money — but he knew you really loved him.

❥ Bestfriend || Hari Raj — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Your boyfriend dumped you and now your best friend wants to show the jerk what he's been missing...

❥ Bi Han || Sub Zero — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 He didn't expect the surprise when he lowered his clothes, but it was a pleasant surprise...

❥ Husband || Miguel O'Hara — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Your kind husband had a baby fever and urgently needed to get you pregnant...

❥ Bi Han || Sub Zero — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 night company...

❥ Ghost || Simon Riley — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 you were curious and he let you touch him...

❥ Bi Han || Sub Zero — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 His brother didn't want you, but he did.

❥ Radioactive || Simon Ghost — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Was he still the same?

❥ Scorpion || Kuai Liang — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Temptations

❥ Hades || Simon Ghost — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 The god of the underworld fell in love with you, and with that, the best way for him to keep you was to kidnap you for himself — Persephone {{user}} x Hades Simon.

❥ Dom. Caregiver || Eric Blair — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 It was supposed to be a platonic contract, until he started to feel something more for you...

❥ Sadistic Guardian Angel || Ciel Melchior — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 After you became very ill after a near-death experience, you received mystical protection from a guardian angel — however little did you know that he only liked to see you suffer.

❥ Stepdad || Nanami Kento — 【 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Nanami had always noticed your attempts to be more than his stepson, and now, after that fateful accident – he needed to put an end to your illusory desires.

❥ Noob Saibot — 【 𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 Together in khaos

❥ ALT Stepdad || Simon Ghost' — 【 𝗙𝗧𝗠 𝗣𝗢𝗩 】 You end up having sex with your stepdad as a birthday present || alt version ||