#I think this week will be a minsung week

[hyunhoverse]

Minsung minsunging series: 2/?

[krosiefics]

let’s fulfill the prophecy • minsung x reader

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: you and your best friends, Minho and Jisung, don’t mind talking about your sex lives and desires. Though one night when Jisung makes a suggestion about a fantasy all three of you share, you can’t help but take the offer.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: PURE SMUT, pwp, smut, afab!reader, softdom!minho, switch!reader, sub!jisung, bsf!minho, bsf!jisung, piv, unprotected sex (PEE AFTER SEX AND USE PROTECTION), same hole double penetration, threesome, vaginal sex, double creampie, jisung is super vocal while minho isn’t, oral (f&m receiving), nippleplay (f&m receiving), some m/m action, breeding kink, pet names (baby, princess, pretty, good boy), friends to idk what(lovers???)…probably forgetting some- tee hee sorry

a/n: imma go touch grass now just like chan told us

Even though your two best friends are boys, you never thought much about talking to them about your sex life, they never hindered from telling you theirs either. So tonight didn’t seem any different.

The three of you gathered around the short wooden coffee table that laid in the middle of the living room, blabbing about things that happened this week.

“Ooh! There was a girl that was all over Minho this week!” Jisung exclaimed as if he just remembered the most important thing in the world. His words peeked your interests, you turned your gaze over to the previously mentioned boy, giving him a knowing look.

Minho’s shoulders rose from being put on the spot, “She wasn’t all over me…she was just there?” Minho furrowed his brows in a questioning manner. “She was totally into you! She was hot too!” Jisung said matter-a-factly, crossing his arms and jutting out his chin. Minho simply rolled his eyes at him.

Minho isn’t necessarily the type to have one-night stands unlike Jisung who likes to play around a bit. “Well what about you Ji? You’ve snuck your way into anyone’s pants this week?” Minho changes the subject. Jisung’s eyes usually light up like a kid on Christmas when he’s asked about his sex life. Liking to recall everything while you and Minho just sit there listening…internally disturbed at some of the things he says.

Though, this time, Jisung’s eyes didn’t have that spark. The round cheeked boy simply shook his head, “I’ve been left blue balled all week. That one girl I told yall about got a family emergency notification while we were grinding on each other!” Jisung threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

You let out a snort and Minho chuckles at his words. “What about you?”

“Me? Nah, haven’t gotten laid in a few weeks. Though when I went to the bar last weekend these two random dudes offered to do a three way with me-“

“Shit, a threesome sounds like so much fun! I wanna do one!” Jisung cut you off, “How was it?!”

“Well if you would let me fucking finish- I turned them down cuz my friend I was with puked.”

“Aww, would you have said yes if she hadn’t puked?” Minho pokes at you jokingly.

“Yeah probably, it’s seems like it’d be intresting- but at the same time I’d want them to be trustable people since I’m guessing it’d hurt like fuck! Don’t wanna be just left to clean up myself, you know.”

As you rambled you failed to notice Jisung suggestively nudging Minho with his elbow. Minho stared between him and you, before realizing what Jisung was indicating. “Jisung what the fuck?” The black haired boy stared at the younger. You look between the two confused.

“Oh c'mon Min! It’d be fun don’t ya think?!” Jisung whined, Minho continued staring at him as if he was crazy. “What is it?”

“This dumbass just suggested that we have a threesome.” Minho spat, though he’d never admit aloud that the idea slightly aroused him.

“Wait…you wanna try it too, right Ji?” You ask, Jisung nods frantically in response. “Do you wanna try it Min?” Minho stared at you as if you’d lost your mind by agreeing with Jisung. “I mean…I guess, but won’t you think it’s weird?”

“Oh c’mon! It’s for scientific research to determine if we like it or not.” You whine just as Jisung had done prior. “I guess.” He answered unsure. You notice his uneasiness, “Hey, if you don’t wanna do it we won’t.” Minho smiled at you appreciatively, “No, I want to do it.”

“Are we doing this or what?” Jisung grinned, popping up from his spot on the floor and making his way to your bedroom door. Your heart raced with anticipation, you’d be lying if you said you’d hadn’t thought about this before…when your best friends are as hot as Minho and Jisung are, how could you not fantasize about them at least one time.

You bolted up from your spot on the floor and towards your bedroom, pulling Jisung inside. “C’mon Min!” Jisung called out to the elder who just watched as the two of his best friends just ran off to a room to have sex together. Nonetheless, Minho rose from his spot, walking towards your now open bedroom door. As Minho neared the door, he watched as Jisung had his lips attached to your neck.

You tilt your head, allowing him more space to nibble and suck at. Your eyes shifted to the man who was standing at your door, you motioned for him to come over. “We’re actually doing this then?”

Minho sighed, arousal shooting quickly to his cock. “We can stop if you want.” You stated, Jisung whining at your words. Minho shook his head as he neared the two of you. “You guys are actually insane.” The feline-eyed boy chuckles, cupping your cheek in his hand. You melt into his touch with a sigh.

Small moans began flowing from your mouth as Jisung bit down along your collarbone before licking a stripe on the spot. “Ji,” You scrunch your eyes, hands flying to his hair. Jisung pulled away from your neck with a smirk. As Jisung fully removes himself from you, Minho decides to take the lead and back you towards the bed, falling onto the bed when the back of your knees hit the mattress.

Minho guided you gently to lay down. “You sure you want this?” He stared down at you, he noticed how flushed your cheeks were and the multiple marks that Jisung had left on your skin. “God yes, shit, this might just be an excuse at this point.” You bashfully confess, turning your head away to avoid eye contact. “Oh, she thinks we’re hot!” Jisung piped up, you felt the weight of the bed dip to your left. Jisung hovered over you, his face coming into your sight. “Don’t worry babe, I’ve thought about this before too. How could I not, you two are ridiculously hot.” He grins before placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

Your eyes follow Jisung’s as he turns his gaze to Minho who just stands there, lip caught between his teeth. “He’s probably fantasized about this more though.” Though you weren't looking at him, you knew he wore a teasing smirk. “Oh fuck you Ji.” Minho groaned, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, “That’s what I’m trying for you to do.” Growing annoyed, Minho pushes Jisung onto the bed, harsher than how he guided you down.

“Hey pretty,” Minho turned his gaze to you, his eyes burning with lust, “Wanna help me out with this one while I take care of you?” You can feel your heart hammering in your chest, Minho’s sudden change in demeanor fully arousing you. You quickly rise from the bed and straddle Jisung’s hips. Jisung stares up at you with rosey cheeks. “You gonna take care of me baby- oh fuck!” His teasing was cut short with the roll of your hips. His hands fly up to your hips, trying to guide you to move faster, but you’re faster, slapping his hands away. “If you’re a good boy I’ll let you touch later.”

Jisung groans loudly at your words, you note how his cock twitched under you at the pet name. You continue rolling your hips into his, soft whimpers falling from both of your mouths. Suddenly, a pair of hands start trailing along the curves of your body, trailing their way down to the hem of your t-shirt. You could feel Minho’s warmth behind you. His hands stop right at the hem, as if the boy behind you were asking to continue. You were quick to nod, pleas flowing from your mouth.

Minho tugged your shirt up and over your head, your chest now almost fully exposed to your best friends. Jisung watched as you grind down on him as Minho took your shirt off. He could see how your nipples pebbled through your bra. Jisung’s hands unconsciously moved to touch them, but yet again you smacked them away before he could touch you. “What did I say?” You tsked.

Jisung simply whined. “Shirt.” You order below, he’s quick to understand what you mean, peeling his shirt from his body, tossing it somewhere in the room.

You stared down at the flushed boy, his abs flexed and his nipples hardened. You reach down and pinch one of his nubs, twisting and pulling at it as whines flow from Jisung’s mouth. “Fuck, baby c’mon! Lemme touch you already…I wanna touch you.” He babbles. You hunch over, taking one of his nipples in your mouth, nibbling at the nub teasingly as Jisung’s cock throbbed against your cunt. “Holy fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Suddenly you’re pulled away from Jisung’s chest. Hands harshly gripping your hips before hesitantly cupping your breasts, you throw your head back, resting it on Minho’s shoulder. Minho takes this as a chance to suck at the skin of your neck. Trailing his teeth along your neck before leaving feather kisses under your ear.

Your hips rolled needily into Jisung below you. The latter staring up with an arousal driven gaze as he watched you grind into him, the feeling of your warmth against him, Minho kneading at your tits and his mouth all over your skin…the skin that he, Jisung, wanted to so desperately touch. “Baby…please. I’ve been a good boy- I’ll keep being a good boy, just let me touch you.” Jisung fisted the sheets next to him as your hips edged him towards his climax.

“Fuck, Imma cum.” He warned. And almost immediately you lifted yourself from him, a broken moan slipping past his lips from the loss of friction, Minho also frowning at the loss of contact with your tits. “Baby, why’d you do that?”

“You said you were gonna be a good boy, no?” You teased him, his round cheeks flushing an impossibly deeper shade of red. You smirk at his reaction.

You tugged at the elastic waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs till you could kick them off somewhere. Both Jisung and Minho watched as you removed the articles of clothing, the sight making their cocks throb in their pants. “Min, care to help tease him for a bit.” You offered, your eyes burning into Jisung’s. Minho nodded, his eyes turning towards the younger boy. Minho didn’t fail to notice the bulge Jisung was sporting through his jeans.

“Pretty boy, you want help with these?” Minho smirked, his fingers trailing along the hem of Jisung’s jeans, looping around one of the belt loops. “God please- fuck Min!” Jisung groaned, willing to do anything at this point to be touched or touch someone. Jisung reached for Minho’s wrist but stopped himself, assuming he’d get rejected again.

Minho let out a deep chuckle before wrapping his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and guiding it to his face. “I’ll let you touch me for now.” He cocked his head as his fingers worked Jisung’s zipper down. You watched as the two boys maneuvered around to get Jisung undressed, until Jisung laid there fully naked. His cock erected, resting on his lower abdomen. Your mouth watered as you stared at the pretty boy’s cock. You wanted him in your mouth- no you needed him in your mouth.

“Minnie, can you prep me?” You asked Minho though your eyes remained on Jisung’s cock. Minho’s gaze shifted from Jisung to you. He noticed your staring and shifted over, freeing up space between Jisung’s legs. “You sure?” Minho asked as you bent over, leaving your ass exposed to him. “Yeah, I am…are you guys?”

“Fuck yeah.” Minho breathed out. “Can one of yal fucking touch me…please?” Jisung cried out, his cock leaking precum as it throbbed painfully.

You roll your eyes playfully before leaning in and taking the whining boy into your mouth. A waterfall of ‘fucks’ and ‘so good baby’ fell from his mouth, Jisung’s eyes screwed shut, but not until he started feeling vibrations against his cock. His eyes snap open, seeing how you took his cock into his mouth so easily, your lips so pink and wet around his shaft.

Another wave of vibrations surrounded his cock, he finally noticed that they were your moans. Your moans as Minho ate you out from behind, wet sounds of your juices mixing with his spit as his fingers pumped into your sopping cunt. “Fuck Min, keep doing that! She’s taking me so well!” Jisung cried out, his knuckles were white with how tight he was holding on to the sheets, just like how he was holding off his climax as best he could.

“I think you’re good now, pretty.” Minho said with a huff, his face wet with your arousal. You pulled away from Jisung’s throbbing cock with a ‘pop’.

Swinging your legs over the younger’s hips, straddling him as you had previously. “You ready Ji?”

“More than ready, princess.” Your eyes go wide at the sudden nickname, your heart unreasonably hammering into your chest. You shake your head out of it. The messy haired boy hisses as you guide his cock towards your entrance.

You sink down slowly onto his cock, the two of you letting out pornographic moans at the feeling. His cock fit you so well, you could feel every vein and curve of his cock as you unconsciously clenched around him, prompting him to buck his hips slightly.

Jisung’s gaze fell on your face, how your eyes scrunched up with pleasure as you began rolling your hips onto his, the new feeling already edging you both towards an orgasm. His gaze fell to your lips and how they formed a small ‘o’ shape as breathy moans left them. Fuck, he wanted to kiss you so bad. You must’ve picked up on his desire because before the two of you knew it, you were kissing.

Lips moving sloppily against each other as your hips started moving faster and as Jisung started thrusting into you. “Sungie.” You whimpered into the kiss, his hands flying to your face, cupping your cheeks gently. Jisung didn’t even care if you’d be upset at him touching you. But you didn’t care, you need his hands in you. “I’m right here princess.” He cooed as his hands made their way down to your hips, steadily holding as he thrust into you.

You moan into the kiss when you feel something else probing at your entrance. It was Minho’s finger. The older boy watched as his younger friends made out like hormonal teenagers. His finger traced along the rim of your pussy which was currently taking Jisung. “I’ve waited a bit, no?”

Minho smirked as he pushed his finger inside your hole, both you and Jisung letting out moans.

Minho worked his fingers in and out of you, stretching your hole even more while Jisung pounded into you. “You ready?” Minho asked, his hands rubbing circles on your waist. “God, need to feel both of you- fuck, now please Min- fuck Sungie!”

“Oh fuck!” Jisung and you moaned simultaneously as Minho pushed his cock into your tight cunt. The stinging pain of both of their cocks only turning you on more. “Fuck, Imma cum- fucking shit.” Jisung warned, his cock twitching deep inside you along Minho’s. “Fu...f-fill me up- you’ve been a good boyf fill me up baby.” You slump your head against his as Minho pounds you from behind.

Jisung spills over the edge, filling you up with every last drop of his seed, your pussy milking him so perfectly. Minho continued rutting into you, Jisung cried out from the overstimulation but nonetheless didn’t pull out. “Fuck, Minnie Imma cum- fuck Min!” A tear fell from your eye as your mind went blank with ecstasy. Your climax hit you like a truck as you squirted around both of their cocks, leaving Jisung’s abdomen soaked.

“Fucking hell.” Minho grunted at how tight you clenched around him that it sent him over the end. His hips stuttered as he filled you with his seed, both his and Jisung mixing within yours.

Your body felt limp as they both pulled out. The icky feeling of their cum rushing down your thighs made you cringe. Minho guided you to lay on your back before running off somewhere.

Both you and Jisung laid there staring at the ceiling, chest heaving and faces flushed.

“We just did that.” You huffed out a laugh.

“We just did that.” Jisung confirms, his voice sounding so raspy.

Minho returned with a warm towel, nudging your legs open before cleaning you. “I love you guys.” You said after cleaning up everything. Minho turned to you with a small smile on his face, his hands moved to cup your cheek before leaning in and planting a kiss on your lips. The two of you pull away, a grumble catching both of your attentions. Your gaze shifted to Jisung who pouted, wanting a kiss for himself.

You giggle before giving him a kiss as well. Jisung melts into your touch so easily, “I love you guys too.” He sighed into the kiss, pulling away before cuddling you into his chest. “You guys are still crazy for that.”

“Oh c’mon Min, you know you liked it.” You scoff, the feeling of Minho’s arms wrapping around both you and Jisung comforting you. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I love you guys too.”

[estellan0vella]

The Art of Wooing: L.F & H.H Lee Felix x fem!reader x Hwang Hyunjin (College AU)

WC: 16.1K

CWs: Sexual References, Polyamory, Background Minsung, Discussion of Safe Sex, Jisung being a dramatic king

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The Alpha Phi frat house is a mess, but that’s standard. Empty beer cans litter the coffee table, a pile of someone’s laundry, probably Jeongin’s, because it’s been sitting there for two days, rests on one of the armchairs, and there’s a faint, lingering scent of weed in the air. Not strong enough to be recent, but present enough to let anyone walking in know exactly what kind of house this is.

Hyunjin is sprawled across the couch, legs draped over Felix’s lap. He’s wearing one of Felix’s oversized hoodies, sleeves pulled over his hands, and his hair is still damp from his shower, sticking in wisps to his sharp jawline.

Felix absentmindedly plays with the hem of Hyunjin’s shorts, scrolling through his phone with his free hand. Across from them, Chan and Seungmin are mid-lecture, voices raised in exasperation as Jeongin lounges in the armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table like he isn’t being verbally torn apart.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Jeongin mutters, flipping his phone in his hand.

“The big deal,” Seungmin snaps, “is that you are going to knock someone up, and we’re all gonna have to deal with your fucking consequences.”

Chan rubs a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, I don’t even know where to start. One, you’re a fucking idiot. Two, what the fuck do you mean you don’t get what the big deal is? You think we wanna raise your fucking kid when you inevitably become a deadbeat because you can’t even wake up before noon?”

“I’d be a great dad,” Jeongin argues.

“You forgot your laundry in the washer for three days last week,” Changbin says from where he’s lying on the floor, tossing a football up and catching it. “The entire house smelled like mildew. You can’t even take care of your own shit.”

“I was busy!”

Felix scoffs. “You were playing League.”

Jeongin glares. “You don’t know my life.”

Seungmin sighs like this is actually causing him physical pain. “Condoms exist for a fucking reason, dumbass.”

“Yeah, and I don’t like them.”

The room goes silent for a moment before Minho, who’s been flipping through the channels on the TV, snorts. “Rawdogging isn’t a personality trait, Jeongin.”

Jeongin huffs. “It’s not-"

Chan cuts him off. “Do you even know if these girls are on birth control? Have you considered that for even a second?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin says, rolling his eyes. “I ask.”

Seungmin blinks. “You ask.”

“Yeah.”

Minho turns fully to face him. “You’re telling me,” he says slowly, “that you trust a random girl at a party to be honest with you about her birth control status, just so you don’t have to wear a condom.”

Jeongin hesitates. “I mean-”

“Oh my fucking god,” Chan mutters.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Seungmin groans at the same time.

Hyunjin, who has been quiet up until now, shakes his head. “I hope one of them baby traps you.”

Jeongin flips him off and Felix grins. “Dude, you’d be a terrible baby daddy. That kid would be the only one showing up to daycare in a Supreme hoodie.”

“Fuck you, I’d dress them cute.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, Jeongin.”

“Wait, Minho,” Hyunjin suddenly pipes up, stretching his arms above his head. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Minho glances at him, then turns his attention back to the TV. “Jisung’s with his dancer friend.”

Felix tilts his head. “Jisung has a dancer friend?”

Minho nods. “Yeah. Her name’s Y/N. Nice girl. Her and Jisung have known each other since they were babies.”

Felix furrows his brows. “Wait, what? Since they were babies? How have I never heard of her?”

“She’s quiet,” Minho says with a shrug. “Does that air shit. Hoops and silks. She’s a trained ballerina, too. Turned down Vaganova"

Hyunjin perks up slightly. “Wait, hoops and silks?” He glances at Felix. “Isn’t that what we wanted to try?”

Felix nods slowly. “Yeah. That aerial stuff looks sick.”

“Think she teaches?” Hyunjin asks Minho.

Minho shrugs. “Dunno. She’s shy. Doesn’t talk much. But she’s sweet. She and Jisung are that weird level of close where if I’m arguing with Jisung about something, he sneakily texts her to change the Wikipedia page just to fuck with me.” He shakes his head. “I pretend not to know.”

Felix laughs. “She sounds fun.”

Minho snorts. “She’s one of my cats now. All wide-eyed and shit. I’ve adopted her.”

Changbin, who has been listening, finally speaks up. “Hold up. You’re telling me there’s a ballerina out there who turned down Vaganova? The fuck kind of ballerina does that?”

Minho shrugs again. “She wants to be on Broadway.”

“That’s a choice,” Felix mutters.

“She’s a theatre major,” Minho explains. “She’s practising for the big showcase right now. Jisung’s being her hype man or some shit.”

Felix hums in thought. “I kinda wanna meet her now.”

Hyunjin nods in agreement. “Same. You think she’d actually teach us some aerial stuff?”

Minho stretches his legs out. “Maybe. You’d have to ask her.”

Jeongin, who has been quiet for a moment, suddenly speaks up. “Okay, but what if she secretly hates Jisung and she’s just waiting for the right moment to murder him?”

Minho gives him a blank look. “They fucking bathed together as babies. She’s not gonna kill him.”

Jeongin scoffs. “Sounds like the perfect cover story.”

Chan groans. “Why the fuck do you say shit like this?”

Jeongin grins. “Keeps life interesting.”

Felix shakes his head and then nudges Hyunjin. “We should figure out a way to meet her.”

Hyunjin hums. “Yeah. If Minho likes her, she’s gotta be cool.”

Minho rolls his eyes. “She’s not a fucking zoo exhibit, Jesus.”

Felix tilts his head, his lips curving into a smirk as he glances at Minho. “Is she cute?”

Minho doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. She’s got this dyed white and black hair, black with two white streaks at the front, white underlayer. Kinda like that one chick from Harry Potter.”

Felix’s eyes widen slightly before a grin spreads across his face. “Narcissa Malfoy,” he breathes, looking downright delighted. “One of the MILFiest MILFs to ever MILF. Holy shit.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow but smirks when Felix turns to look at him with a knowing glint in his eyes. Felix leans in, nudging him playfully, and Hyunjin chuckles before nudging him back.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Chan mutters, rubbing his temples. “The two of you cannot fuck Jisung’s friend.”

Felix gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Excuse me?”

Chan glares at him. “I’m serious. Stick to the usual desperate guys or girls you pick up to rail between you. Do not get any ideas about Jisung’s friend.”

Felix scoffs. “We are not that bad!” He turns to Hyunjin, pressing his face close. “Are we, baby?”

Hyunjin doesn’t even pause. “No.”

The entire room erupts into groans, scoffs, and snorts of disbelief.

“Not that bad?” Minho says, narrowing his eyes. “Not that bad?”

“You two are actual menaces,” Changbin says, shaking his head.

Jeongin snorts. “Bro, do we need to start listing shit? ‘Cause I can start listing shit.”

“Oh, please,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Seungmin cracks his neck before ticking off on his fingers. “Alright. Last month, you two took home that one guy from our rival football team and railed him so good he showed up to the next game unable to walk properly.”

Chan lets out a loud groan. “Oh, fuck, I forgot about that. That was embarrassing.”

Hyunjin just grins. “We won that game, though.”

“That is not the fucking point,” Chan snaps.

Minho crosses his arms. “There was also that one girl from the photography department. You two fucked her in the darkroom. During open hours.”

Felix shrugs. “In our defence, it was empty.”

Changbin lets out a bark of laughter. “It was empty because everyone left when they heard what the fuck was going on.”

Jeongin smirks. “Oh, oh! What about that bartender from Golden Hour? The one who gave you guys free shots all night and then went home with you?”

Hyunjin sighs fondly. “She made us breakfast the next morning. Sweet girl.”

Minho gives him a deadpan look. “That’s not the fucking point.”

Felix shakes his head, grinning. “I don’t see how any of this is a problem.”

Seungmin lets out a sharp, humourless laugh. “Of course you don’t.”

Chan points a finger at them. “I am saying this once. Jisung’s friend is off-limits. You two have your little freaky sex adventures with people who know what they’re getting into, and that’s fine. But you will not touch her. Got it?”

Felix pouts dramatically. “You’re so mean, Chris.”

“I will actually beat the shit out of you,” Chan says, exasperated.

Minho sighs, running a hand through his hair before fixing them both with a pointed look. “You two cannot upset this girl, okay? She is my boyfriend’s best friend. Jisung would choose her over me any fucking day of the week, no hesitation. If you fuckers upset her, I have to cut you out of my life just to save my relationship.”

Felix blinks. “Damn. That serious?”

“Yes, you dumbass,” Minho snaps. “Jisung is the best sex I’ve ever had, and I am not losing that because you two decide to be little whores and fuck over his best friend.”

Hyunjin presses his lips together, eyes twinkling with amusement. “That’s fair.”

“Not to mention,” Minho continues, “Y/N cooks better food than all of you combined. I slaved away to build this fucking friendship with her, and I will not lose it because you two dipshits can’t keep it in your pants.”

Felix tilts his head. “She cooks?”

“Yes, and it’s fucking amazing,” Minho says. “Like, restaurant-tier shit. I will actually commit murder if I lose that.”

Felix hums. “So, you’re saying she’s cute, she’s insanely talented, and she can cook?” He turns to Hyunjin. “Baby, I think I’m in love.”

Minho throws a pillow at him. “Shut the fuck up. I am dead fucking serious. If you make her uncomfortable in any way, I will kill you, then kill myself out of guilt for associating with you.”

Seungmin nods. “I’ll help.”

Chan sighs. “Same.”

Hyunjin just smirks. “Noted.”

Jisung stands in the middle of the Alpha Phi frat house living room, arms crossed, expression severe, well, as severe as Jisung can look. Minho is beside him, arms mirroring his boyfriend’s stance, though there’s a distinct gleam in his eyes that promises he will absolutely make good on any threats Jisung is about to lay down.

"Alright, listen the fuck up," Jisung announces, looking around at his gathered frat brothers like they’re about to be disciplined by a high school principal. "I have managed to convince my best friend, my ride or die, the person I would sell all of you for in a heartbeat, to come over tomorrow and meet you absolute fucking heathens."

Felix grins. "Oh shit, is this the elusive Y/N?"

"The one and only," Jisung says before levelling a sharp look at everyone in the room. "But there are ground rules. You will follow them, or Minho will make your lives miserable. I will not hesitate to give him the go-ahead. You all know what he’s like when he’s pissed."

Minho smirks and nods, looking positively gleeful at the thought.

"Rule number one," Jisung continues, holding up a finger. "No interrogating her. She is shy, she is sweet, and if you overwhelm her, I will be the one throwing fists, not Minho."

Changbin shifts in his seat. "Define interrogating."

Minho narrows his eyes. "If you so much as grill her on her entire life history within the first five minutes, I’m shaving your eyebrows off in your sleep."

Changbin sighs. "Noted."

"Rule number two," Jisung says, his voice gaining a sharper edge. "No flirting, no asking for threesomes, no trying to see how fast you can make her blush, none of that bullshit."

His eyes land directly on Felix and Hyunjin, who are both lounging on the couch looking far too innocent for anyone to actually believe it and Hyunjin feigns offence, placing a hand on his chest. "Why are you looking at me and my angel?"

Jisung deadpans. "Because you two propositioned the pizza delivery guy last night."

Felix huffs. "And?"

"You offered to tip him in dick," Jisung snaps.

Felix shrugs. "And he accepted. The man was in heaven for hours getting spit-roasted."

Changbin chokes on his drink. Jeongin lets out a wheeze of laughter. Chan just groans, rubbing a hand over his face. "Point is," Jisung says, rubbing his temples, "Y/N is not here for that. You will treat her with respect."

Hyunjin smirks. "We are nothing if not respectful."

Minho scoffs. "I’m gonna fucking kill you."

Jisung ignores him and presses on. "Rule three, be polite and clean. She already knows you’re all heathens, but she doesn’t need to see the full extent of the hedonism in this house."

Seungmin snorts. "So, what you’re saying is, we should hide the evidence?"

"Yes, you fucking goblin," Jisung says. "That means no used condoms on the floor, no random underwear hanging off the TV, and for the love of God, clean the couch."

Changbin glances at the couch. "What’s wrong with the couch?"

Minho gives him a look. "Bin, that couch has seen more fluids than a goddamn hospital."

Jisung presses on, ignoring the groans of disgust that ripple through the room. "Rule four, and this is important, be clothed."

Every single set of eyes in the room immediately lands on Chan, who is, predictably, sitting in nothing but his boxers.

Chan blinks. "What?"

Jisung glares. "We are all used to seeing your dick or balls fall out of your boxers when you manspread or seeing you walk around like you were just fucking born, but Y/N does not deserve that horror. Fully clothed tomorrow."

Chan scoffs. "My dick does not-"

"Your dick absolutely does," Seungmin interrupts.

"I saw your balls fall out at breakfast two days ago," Changbin adds.

"That time we were watching a movie and your dick just flopped out like it was clocking in for work," Jeongin says.

Felix grins. "You were in the kitchen last week making eggs, and I saw your whole-ass sack."

"That time at practice when you sat on the bench and forgot you weren’t wearing underwear," Hyunjin says, shaking his head.

Chan scowls. "Okay, you guys are exaggerating."

Jisung gives him a flat look. "It’s out right now."

Chan grumbles, shifting his legs. "I like airflow."

Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before moving on. "Rule five, and this is specifically for you, Jeongin, keep your feral pussy poker away from her."

Jeongin gapes. "Excuse me?"

"You are the fucking worst," Jisung accuses. "Raw dogging every girl you meet, and you especially have a shy girl kink, you cute little bastard."

"I do not-"

Seungmin cuts him off. "We all caught you raw dogging that fucking cheerleader in the locker room."

"And that ball bunny on the kitchen counter," Hyunjin adds.

"And the girl on the couch," Changbin chimes in.

"And the TA," Chan sighs.

Jeongin groans, throwing his head back. "Okay, okay, point made."

"Yeah, so you keep that demon dick locked the fuck up around Y/N," Jisung warns.

Changbin crosses his arms. "And what happens if we don’t?"

Jisung smirks. "I let Minho off his leash."

Minho beams.

Jisung continues. "Not only would you be upsetting my best friend, my fucking ride or die, but you’d also be upsetting Minho’s friend. And you all know Minho is protective as fuck over her. She’s like one of his cats."

Minho nods, smug.

"My night terror of a boyfriend has my full permission to make your lives miserable. For. Ev. Er," Jisung finishes, his voice dropping into something ominous.

The room falls into a contemplative silence before Minho claps his hands together. "Oh, I have plans."

Felix raises an eyebrow. "What kind of plans?"

Minho smirks. "Well, for starters, I will piss on your beds."

Hyunjin wrinkles his nose. "Like a fucking cat?"

"Yes."

Jeongin groans. "That’s so fucking gross."

"You touch Y/N, you get marked like territory," Minho says cheerfully.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Chan mutters.

"Oh, and I’m switching out all your body wash for Nair," Minho continues.

Felix gapes. "You wouldn’t."

Minho grins wider. "Wouldn't I?"

Seungmin exhales. "You absolutely would."

"I’m also changing all your ringtones to my voice saying terrible things at max volume," Minho adds.

Jisung grins. "Oh, that one’s good."

"Sabotaging alarm clocks, hiding keys, replacing all snacks with wasabi-coated almonds," Minho lists off, ticking each one on his fingers. "Setting your laptop wallpapers to cursed images, filling your shampoo bottles with mayonnaise, oh, and if you touch her, Jeongin, I will glue your fucking dick to your stomach."

Jeongin looks horrified. "You are an actual fucking psychopath."

Minho tilts his head, smiling. "Then follow the fucking rules."

Felix sighs. "Fine, we’ll be good."

Hyunjin pouts but nods.

Jeongin groans but mutters, "Whatever."

"Good," Jisung says, clapping his hands together. "Tomorrow, we’re on our best behaviour. If I have to kill any of you, I’m making you pay for the bleach to clean up the mess."

Minho nods, satisfied. "Now, who wants dinner? I cooked, and none of you deserve it, but I’m feeling generous."

As the boys disperse, Felix mutters to Hyunjin, "Still think she’s gonna be hot, though."

Minho glares at him. "I heard that, you little shit."

Jisung yanks the front door open with a dramatic flourish, grinning wide as he sees you standing there. "Y/N! Welcome to the den of indecency!"

You blink at him, lips curving into a small amused smile. "It can’t be that bad."

Minho, standing just behind Jisung, simply lifts an arm and gestures toward the coffee table in the middle of the frat house living room. You follow his gaze and sure enough, sitting right there on the table is a banana, proudly wearing a condom. Jisung groans, grabs the banana, and promptly chucks it at Seungmin, who catches it without even looking up from where he’s standing in front of Jeongin, arms crossed, face locked in the kind of judgmental expression only he can pull off.

"You fucking psychopath," Jisung mutters.

Seungmin waves a dismissive hand. "It’s a visual aid."

Minho smirks at you. "Still think it’s not that bad?"

Your lips press together in an attempt to hold back laughter as you step inside. "I stand corrected."

Seungmin, still ignoring the peanut gallery, turns back to Jeongin with an expression of pure exasperation. "Okay, I don’t know how else to explain this to you. You keep acting like condoms are some mythical burden when they are literally designed to prevent you from ruining your goddamn life."

Jeongin slouches on the couch, arms crossed, looking very much like a petulant child being forced to eat vegetables. "I’m not ruining my life."

Seungmin scoffs. "No? You think I wanna spend the next eighteen years hearing you bitch about child support payments? ‘Cause I don’t. I already have to deal with your constant whining about having to wake up before noon. Imagine adding a baby to that equation."

Jisung gestures vaguely. "That’s Seungmin and Jeongin, by the way," he tells you.

You nod, watching as Seungmin grabs the banana again and waves it in Jeongin’s face.

"Do you see this?" Seungmin asks.

"I see it, Seungmin," Jeongin sighs.

"This could be your dick," Seungmin says.

"Stop saying that like it’s a fucking commercial," Jeongin groans.

Seungmin holds up the condom-covered banana. "Look how simple this is. Banana. Condom. Boom. Protected. This is not rocket science, dumbass."

Jeongin glares at him. "Why don’t Jisung and Minho get this lecture? They raw dog each other all the time!"

Seungmin doesn’t even hesitate. "They’re two men in a committed relationship, no risk of STDs, and a baby is biologically impossible. Their biggest concern is haemorrhoids."

Minho nods sagely. "Real shit."

You can’t help it, you let out a small giggle at that, covering your mouth. Jisung gasps dramatically and whips around to face you.

"Did you just fucking laugh?"

"Maybe."

Minho grins. "She thinks we’re funny. You might actually survive in this house."

Jisung shakes his head, still dramatically scandalized before he fully takes you in. His eyes narrow slightly. "Hold up." He tilts his head. "Why am I looking up at you right now?"

You blink at him, confused, before following his gaze down to your feet. "Oh." You gesture at your platform Converse. "Shoes."

Jisung scowls. "Outrageous. Take them off."

You laugh, but you comply, toeing off your shoes and stepping out of them. Now back at your usual height, you glance at him.

Jisung immediately nods, satisfied. "There we go. Back to the same height. All is right in the world again."

Minho sighs. "You are the dumbest person I know."

"Hey," Jisung says, pointing at him. "She was towering over me. That’s unnatural."

"It’s two fucking inches," Minho mutters.

Jisung shudders. "Still counts."

Seungmin clears his throat. "Excuse me, but I am still in the middle of my goddamn PSA."

Minho rolls his eyes, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Come on, Y/N. Let’s leave these idiots to their nonsense."

As you follow Minho further into the house, Jisung throws one last glance at Jeongin. "Use the fucking condoms, feral boy. I’m not about to start babysitting because you can’t control your dick."

Jeongin groans. "Whatever."

Seungmin smirks. "No ‘whatever.’ You will respect the banana."

Jisung leads you into the kitchen with Minho right beside him, and the moment you step through the doorway, four heads turn in unison.

Seated around the kitchen island, mid-bite into whatever meal they’ve scrounged together, are four guys, all of them freezing as they catch sight of you.

Jisung gestures lazily. "Y/N, meet Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Felix. Alright, fuckers, this is Y/N. Done? Great. Alright, Y/N, let’s go."

He immediately pivots on his heel like he’s about to march you right out of there, but the four of them are still staring, practically slack-jawed. Chan and Changbin mutter a low, simultaneous, "Damn," before exchanging a knowing glance and fist-bumping like absolute Neanderthals.

Felix’s mouth is slightly parted, eyes flicking over you like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory, and Hyunjin, still chewing his food, just blatantly watches you, his gaze unreadable but intense.

Jisung groans. "Oh my fucking god."

He grabs a tablecloth from the counter and dramatically holds it up in front of you like he’s shielding you from a pack of wolves. "Stop staring at her, you freaks!" he hisses. "Come on, Y/N, upstairs. Stay behind the tablecloth, I’ve got you, sweetie. Ignore the losers."

Jisung physically ushers you toward the stairs, still holding up the damn fabric like a makeshift barrier. Minho follows behind, hands shoved in his pockets, looking smug as hell. Behind you, the complaints start immediately.

"Are you fucking serious?" Chan grumbles.

"This is bullshit," Changbin adds.

Felix’s voice is loud and scandalized. "Jisung, you’re fucking gay, and you hid your hot female friend from us?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Fucking betrayal, man."

Jisung doesn’t even turn around, still guiding you up the stairs. "She is a person, not a fucking collectable, you fucking vultures!"

"You let us think all your female friends were weird theatre kids!" Chan shouts.

"She is a theatre kid, you dumbass!" Jisung calls back.

"But a hot one!" Changbin complains.

Jisung groans. "Minho, baby, start biting."

Minho sighs happily, cracks his knuckles, and turns back around.

Felix barely has time to blink before Minho lunges and bites him right on the arm. "OW, YOU LITTLE-" Felix yelps, nearly dropping his fork.

Minho whirls and sinks his teeth into Hyunjin’s shoulder next, making the taller boy jerk back with a shout. "The fuck, Min?" Hyunjin complains, rubbing his shoulder like he’s just been mauled.

Chan barely gets out, "Oh, come on, that’s not-" before Minho turns and bites him directly on the bicep.

Changbin tries to escape, but Minho is fast, darting after him and chomping down on his forearm like a gremlin. "FUCK, FUCK, OKAY, JESUS!" Changbin howls.

Jisung smirks as he continues leading you upstairs. "That’s what you get, you absolute fucking vultures."

Jisung practically drags you into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him like he’s just escaped from a war zone. He presses his back against it, chest rising and falling dramatically as if he’s single-handedly saved you from an untimely fate at the hands of his ravenous frat brothers.

"Safe space," he announces.

You take one glance around the room and immediately deadpan. "Except for the biohazards growing in here."

Jisung frowns, looking vaguely offended. "Excuse me?"

You gesture vaguely to the mess surrounding you. It’s a disaster, clothes scattered across the floor, empty snack wrappers piled up on the desk, a concerning amount of energy drink cans stacked precariously in the corner like a makeshift tower of death. The air is thick with the undeniable scent of laundry that hasn’t quite made it to the washer yet, and there’s an unidentified object peeking out from under his bed that you’re not sure you even want to acknowledge.

"Jisung," you say slowly, carefully. "When was the last time you cleaned in here?"

He shrugs. "Define cleaned."

You stare at him and he grins. "Okay, okay, don’t give me that look. I clean. Sometimes."

You let out a long, suffering sigh and step further into the chaos, carefully manoeuvring around what looks like a hoodie he abandoned weeks ago. Your gaze lands on an old soju bottle sitting on his desk, filled with something dark and fuzzy, the inside clouded over with what can only be described as a science experiment gone horribly wrong.

"What the fuck is that?" you ask, pointing at it.

Jisung follows your gaze and beams. "That," he says proudly, "is now my vivarium. I’m hoping life forms grow in it and I discover a new species."

Your face twists in absolute horror. "Jisung, that is fucking disgusting."

He scoffs. "What? It’s not like I drink from it. It’s science. I’m conducting research. What if it becomes sentient? I could make billions of won from this."

You take a careful step away from the bottle as if proximity alone might make you contract some sort of airborne disease. "Jisung," you say seriously, "if that thing becomes sentient, it’s not gonna make you money. It’s gonna crawl out of that bottle in the middle of the night and strangle you for keeping it in there."

Jisung lets out a loud laugh. "Holy shit, imagine!" He clasps his hands together, eyes sparkling with excitement. "If it becomes sentient, I’m gonna call it Dobby."

You blink at him. "Wow. You’re gonna enslave the sentient life you’re growing. Cancelled."

Jisung gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "What?! You can’t cancel me!"

"Cancelled," you repeat, shaking your head in mock disappointment. "You’re cancelled, Jisung."

Jisung groans. "Noooo, you can’t do this to me! Think of my legacy!"

You raise an eyebrow. "Your legacy as the dumbass who let a mutant soju mould take over his frat house?"

He sighs, shaking his head. "You just don’t understand the vision."

"Some visions should remain undiscovered," you say, crossing your arms. "This is one of them."

Jisung pouts. "You’re no fun."

"I am fun," you argue. "I just also value basic hygiene."

"Basic hygiene is overrated," he mutters.

You give him a pointed look. "That’s exactly what someone with a sentient soju bottle would say."

Jisung flops onto his bed like he’s just run a marathon, stretching his limbs dramatically before grabbing his controller and starting up Mario Kart on his massive TV. The bright colours of the game flicker across the screen, illuminating his shit-eating grin as he shoots you a look.

"Oh, darling best friend," he says, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. "Please roll two spliffs for us, I beg of you. My weed, my cherry papers, and my grinder are in my drawer."

You roll your eyes but head over to the drawer anyway, easily finding his stash amongst the clutter of random bullshit, half-used ChapStick, tangled earphones, and an alarming amount of stray gum wrappers. You pluck out the necessary items, setting them on his desk before turning back toward him.

"Alright," you say. "Set me up as Rosalina then."

Jisung scoffs like this is an offence to his very soul. "You always pick her."

"And you always pick that little green one," you counter.

Jisung gasps, clutching his chest. "His name is YOSHI!"

You grin, settling yourself on the floor beside his bed as you begin grinding up the weed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, dinosaur boy."

As you expertly roll, you suddenly remember something and fish around in your bag. "Oh! I got these," you say, pulling out a small packet and holding it up for him to see. "Dried rose petals. It’s how I smoke."

Jisung’s eyes widen in delight as he leans forward, inspecting them with interest. "Ooh, fancy! That’s some real fairy princess shit. You’re out here rolling magical, nature-ass blunts while I’m stuffing my lungs with fucking cherry papers like a peasant."

You chuckle, carefully mixing some of the dried petals into the rolling paper before sealing it up with practised ease. "It tastes really nice. Plus, it looks pretty."

Jisung shakes his head, amused. "Of course, you’d care about aesthetics even while getting high."

Before you can respond, Minho saunters into the room, arms crossed as he surveys the situation like an unimpressed parent walking in on their child making a terrible life decision. "What’s up, losers," he greets.

Jisung perks up immediately. "Oh! Perfect timing, babe. I’m setting up for a three-player race." He quickly adjusts the settings before turning to you with puppy-dog eyes. "Can you roll Min one too?"

You nod, already reaching for more paper as Minho sighs dramatically before holding something up in his hands. "I brought a clean blanket from my room so you don’t have to sit directly on Jisung’s bed."

You gasp, placing a hand over your heart. "God bless you, Lee Minho."

Minho grins, pleased with himself, and lays the blanket down on the bed before plopping himself down. Jisung, completely ignoring the display of chivalry, is too busy selecting his kart, eyes locked on the screen like his life depends on it.

As you finish rolling the second spliff, you glance up at Minho. "By the way, Minho, how have you allowed that?" You gesture toward the cursed soju bottle of doom.

Minho immediately scowls. "I tried to throw it out. He bit me."

Jisung cackles. "It’s my science experiment, I had to defend it!"

Minho rubs his wrist as if recalling the traumatic event. "You are actually fucking feral. Who bites their own boyfriend over a mouldy-ass bottle?"

Jisung grins. "Me. And I’d do it again."

The rhythmic, eerie notes of Ma Meilleure Ennemie echo through the empty college dance studio, the haunting melody filling the space as you dangle upside down from the aerial hoop. Your legs are hooked securely over the steel ring, muscles taut as you let yourself spin slowly, arms outstretched, fingers grazing the air with every lazy rotation.

The fabric of your black yoga shorts clings to your thighs, your white cropped turtleneck hugging your torso, moving with the soft rise and fall of your breath. Your hair, clipped up in its usual messy style, sways slightly with your movements, and though you can’t see yourself, you know the contrast of your flawless black-and-white eyeliner, the subtle shimmer of pink gloss, adds to the picture of quiet elegance you strive to maintain.

The world shifts around you in soft blurs as you spin, upside down but completely in control, the dim studio lights casting long shadows across the polished floors.

"Hi!"

The sudden voice nearly startles you enough to make you lose focus. Your grip on the hoop tightens instinctively as your eyes snap toward the entrance of the studio. You spot a bright smile first. Platinum blond mullet, warm brown eyes, an aura of pure sunshine even under the cool fluorescent lighting.

You quickly adjust, lifting yourself up so you’re seated properly in the hoop, legs draped over the metal as you gaze down at him.

Felix beams up at you like he’s just stumbled upon something magical. "Jin! She’s here!"

A second later, another head pops into the room, dark eyes and feathered bangs, the sharp cut of Hyunjin’s jawline evident even from a distance.

Felix gestures between the two of them. "I don’t know if you remember, but you met us at the frat house the other day. Felix and Hyunjin."

You do remember, though your interaction with them was brief before Jisung had shielded you with a tablecloth and rushed you upstairs. You study them now, still seated in your hoop, slightly tilted as you continue to spin just a little, an unintentional effect of being up here.

Your voice is soft when you speak. "Can I help you?"

Felix and Hyunjin both crane their necks, staring up at you with something close to awe, like they weren’t expecting to walk in and see you suspended in midair like some kind of ethereal acrobat.

Felix is the first to recover. "Yeah, actually! We want to learn how to do that!" He gestures toward you. "In the hoop. Like Zendaya in Greatest Showman!"

You blink. "You two want to-"

Hyunjin sighs, giving Felix a look before turning back to you. "Felix wants to do a couples activity. He chose this."

Felix grins, completely unapologetic. "When are you free?"

You hesitate for a moment, still processing the image of these two very athletic frat boys attempting something as graceful and controlled as aerial hoop. But there’s something so eager about Felix’s expression, and Hyunjin, despite his usual sharp-edged aura, doesn’t seem opposed to the idea.

"Tuesday and Thursday after six p.m."

Felix nods immediately. "We can do that!"

There’s an unmistakable excitement in his voice, and even Hyunjin looks intrigued as they continue gazing up at you, as if seeing you like this has only cemented their decision.

You exhale, amusement tugging at your lips as you realize you’re about to teach two frat boys how to fly.

Felix’s room in the Alpha Phi frat house is different from the chaos outside its walls. Where the rest of the house is an unholy mess of abandoned beer cans, questionable stains, and the lingering scent of cologne, weed, and regret, Felix’s room is a haven. It’s warm, dimly lit with fairy lights strung along the walls, and the air smells like vanilla and cinnamon, like fresh-baked cookies and something unmistakably Felix.

The bed is a cocoon of soft blankets, mismatched but cosy, and there are stuffed animals nestled between the pillows, a stark contrast to the general debauchery of frat life. A Polaroid collage of his favourite memories covers one wall, photos of the guys mid-laugh, blurry selfies, and an obscene number of candid shots of Hyunjin. 

Felix is curled up against Hyunjin, nuzzling into his chest, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Hyunjin’s arm. "She's so pretty," Felix murmurs, voice soft.

Hyunjin nods, lips pressing to Felix’s temple as he absentmindedly runs his fingers through Felix’s hair. "Yeah."

They lay there for a moment, lost in thought, the warmth of each other’s bodies a familiar comfort. Then Felix, ever the chaotic one, shifts, pulling back just enough to tilt his head up at Hyunjin. "So what if we date her?"

Hyunjin blinks. "What, like a throuple?"

Felix nods immediately as if the thought has been brewing in his mind for hours. "Think about it. We get to know her, we romance her, we woo her."

Hyunjin scoffs, amused. "Woo her?"

Felix grins. "Yeah. Woo. We can woo."

Hyunjin smirks. "We would be ace at wooing."

Felix nods eagerly. "Exactly! You, with your art and deep-ass stares that make people weak in the knees, and me, with my baking and cooking skills. Who the fuck could resist that?"

Hyunjin huffs out a laugh. "You’re so fucking serious about this."

"Dead fucking serious," Felix says, pushing himself up so he’s sitting cross-legged. "We need a plan."

Before Hyunjin can even process what’s happening, Felix is reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing his designated planning notebook, a beat-up, sticker-covered thing that has been used for everything from grocery lists to world domination strategies.

Felix flips it open, grabs a handful of glitter pens, and looks up at Hyunjin with wide, determined eyes. "Alright, let’s map this shit out."

Hyunjin drags a hand down his face. "God, I love you, you ridiculous fucking man."

Felix winks. "I know, baby. Now grab a pen, we have work to do."

Hyunjin sighs but grabs a pink glitter pen, because at this point, why the fuck not?

Felix taps the pen against his chin. "Step one..."

Hyunjin raises a brow. "We know nothing about her."

Felix gasps, dropping his pen. "You're so fucking right." He scribbles messily across the top of the page, STEP ONE: GET TO KNOW HER.

Hyunjin leans in, intrigued now despite himself. "How do we do that?"

Felix grins, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, baby, we are about to research the fuck out of her."

Hyunjin grins. “So, stalking.”

Felix smacks his arm. “No, dumbass. We just hang out with her. Talk to her. Figure out what she likes.”

Hyunjin smirks. “Which is basically soft stalking.”

Felix rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Hyunjin leans over Felix’s shoulder, watching as the glittery pink pen scratches across the notebook page, the words STEP ONE: GET TO KNOW HER underlined three times like it’s the most important revelation of the century. He tilts his head, drumming his fingers lightly against his knee.

"What if Jisung finds this little written-out plan?" he asks because honestly, that is a real concern. Jisung has no common sense but he does have an eerily good sixth sense for bullshit.

Felix waves a dismissive hand. "Don’t be silly, Jisung can’t read."

From the room next door, there’s an offended whine. "Hey!"

Minho’s voice follows almost immediately, smooth and amused. "It’s okay, baby, reading is hard for some people."

"I WILL BITE YOUR DICK OFF."

Felix dissolves into laughter, clutching his stomach as he flops backwards onto the bed. Hyunjin just shakes his head, exhaling through his nose, because of course, this is his life.

Once Felix regains his composure, he sits up and beams at Hyunjin. "Anyway, don’t worry about Jisung finding our little operation."

Hyunjin gives him a wary look. "Why do you sound like you already thought of a way to distract him?"

Felix grins, practically vibrating with excitement. "Because I did."

He reaches under the bed and pulls out a nondescript brown shopping bag. Hyunjin watches, both curious and slightly apprehensive, as Felix rummages inside before triumphantly holding up a bright pink box full of edible panties.

Hyunjin blinks. "I-" He gestures vaguely at the box. "What the actual fuck?"

Felix wiggles the box, his grin growing. "I nipped off campus earlier and bought these. I’m gonna give them to Jisung and Minho, and those two will be too distracted by these to realise we’re trying to woo his best friend!"

Hyunjin runs a hand down his face, shaking his head. "You are insane."

Felix gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. "How dare you? This is strategy."

Hyunjin gives him a flat look. "Your strategy is to give Jisung candy underwear?"

Felix nods enthusiastically. "Exactly! It’s foolproof! They’ll be too busy either laughing their asses off or actually trying them out to notice us being all sneaky and romantic."

Hyunjin sighs, knowing better than to argue when Felix is in one of his chaotic, genius moods. "And what’s with the second box?"

Felix’s grin turns positively wicked. "That’s for us."

Hyunjin just stares and Felix wiggles his eyebrows. "You’ll eat cherry panties off me, right? And I’ll eat them off you!"

Hyunjin groans. "You actually have a problem."

Felix nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on, babe, don’t pretend that doesn’t sound hot."

Hyunjin mutters something under his breath but doesn’t deny it, which makes Felix laugh in victory. Then, as if remembering why they were here in the first place, Felix suddenly sits up straight. "Right! Planning!"

Hyunjin exhales heavily, rubbing his temples. "Finally."

Felix grins, flipping the page in his notebook. "Okay, step two..."

Hyunjin glances at him, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "Operation Woo is officially in session."

Hyunjin and Felix push through the doors of the college dance studio, the familiar scent of resin, rubber mats, and faint lavender from the cleaning sprays hitting them immediately. The room is massive, lined with mirrors, with high ceilings fitted with sturdy metal rigs designed for aerial apparatuses. The air is cool, the faint hum of the ventilation system filling the space between their footsteps.

You’re already waiting for them, standing near the aerial hoops, adjusting some of the rigging with an expert touch. The bright studio lights illuminate you from above, casting a soft glow over your features. You’re dressed in sleek black leggings and a white cropped, tight long-sleeve top that clings to your figure, your hands and feet wrapped securely, a necessary precaution for grip and safety. Your black hair is messily clipped up, the two stark white strips at the front framing your face.

Felix, ever the ball of sunshine, greets you first. "Hey, gorgeous instructor," he says with a wink.

Hyunjin elbows him lightly. "Stop trying to flirt on day one."

You flush slightly, eyes darting to the side as you hold out two harnesses for them. "Here," you say softly, the shyness in your voice evident, "put these on."

Hyunjin takes his with an amused smile. "Damn, I was hoping we’d just get to climb up and hope for the best."

You shake your head, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips. "You’d break your neck."

Felix lets out a breathless laugh as he starts stepping into his harness. "See, this is why we need you."

You kneel down slightly, adjusting Felix’s straps first, making sure they sit snug against his waist and thighs before moving to Hyunjin. He stands still as you tighten the buckles, hands brushing against his hips briefly. His dark eyes watch you, something unreadable flickering in them.

Once their harnesses are secure, you lead them toward the hoops, clicking their carabiners onto the rigging before moving toward a nearby control panel. You press the button that raises the hoops slowly, allowing them to get a feel for the tension before you step away.

Then, without hesitation, you grip your own hoop freehand, fingers curling securely around the cool steel as it lifts into the air. With effortless grace, you swing yourself upward, twisting lightly before perching in the hoop, your legs draped elegantly over the metal, your back straight.

Felix and Hyunjin, still slightly disoriented from just being in the air, watch with open admiration.

"Okay," you say, voice gentle but steady. "Simple stuff today. Just getting comfortable. Move however you want, see how your body feels in the air."

Felix exhales, shifting slightly in the harness. "Distract us."

Hyunjin nods. "Yeah, tell us about yourself while we try not to panic."

You hesitate slightly before tilting your head. "Um, I’m twenty."

Felix perks up. "Oh shit, we’re twenty-one."

You nod, twisting your wrist lightly against the hoop, letting the movement centre you. "I did ballet for years, but I rarely practice anymore. Only enough to stay flexible."

Felix grins. "Favourite colour?"

You hum softly, fingers tracing absent patterns on the steel. "Blue. Deep ocean blue."

Felix nods approvingly. "Solid choice. Favourite sweet treat?"

"Salted caramel brownies."

Felix makes a noise of delight. "I knew I liked you."

Hyunjin, who has been watching you quietly, speaks up. "Favourite piece of artwork?"

You pause, lips pursing slightly. "Most people would say a painting," you murmur, eyes drifting to the ceiling in thought. "But I’d say the Varvakeion Athena."

Felix furrows his brows. "That a sculpture?"

You nod. "It’s a Roman marble copy of the original Athena Parthenos statue. I went to Athens last summer to see it at The National Archaeological Museum." You glance at them. "Ji came with me."

Felix’s eyes widen. "Oh shit, he said he went to Greece!"

Hyunjin exhales, something flickering in his expression. "I've always wanted to go there," he admits. "It’s on my art history bucket list."

You smile, the shyness still lingering in the corners of your lips. "You should go. The museums alone are worth it."

Hyunjin watches you, his fingers tightening slightly on the hoop. Oh yeah, he thinks. This girl is gonna ruin us.

Felix and Hyunjin are sprawled out on Felix’s bed, limbs tangled comfortably as Arcane plays in the background. The glow from the TV bathes the room in soft neon hues, blues, purples, and oranges flickering across their faces as Jinx wreaks havoc on the screen.

Between them, Felix’s designated planning notebook lays open, its pages already filled with messy, colourful writing and an obscene amount of glitter pen doodles. They’ve been adding to it ever since they got back from the dance studio, scribbling down everything they learned about you in an effort to refine Operation Woo.

Hyunjin flips his glitter pen between his fingers, his other hand resting comfortably against Felix’s hip. "Deep ocean blue for favourite colour," he murmurs, reading aloud as he underlines the words. "Salted caramel brownies for favourite sweet treat. Girl’s got taste."

Felix grins, propping himself up on one elbow as he kicks his legs back and forth. "My plan worked!" he announces proudly. "Distracted!"

From across the hall, an obscene noise filters through the walls, Jisung’s breathy moan, followed by something that sounds suspiciously like Minho chuckling.

Hyunjin sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. "So fucking distracted."

Felix giggles. "See? I told you the edible panties would work."

Hyunjin lifts his head slightly, staring at him in mock horror. "The worst part is that they’re actually using them."

Felix snickers, his freckles crinkling with amusement. "Jisung has zero shame."

Another particularly loud noise echoes through the house, and Hyunjin aggressively presses a pillow over his face. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Felix pats his stomach soothingly. "Shhh, let them live their best life, baby."

"I don’t want to hear their best life," Hyunjin groans into the pillow.

Felix, completely unbothered, flicks his glitter pen open again and leans over the notebook. "Alright, next steps. Bake brownies." He underlines it three times. "We need to flirt with her, but in a way that won’t be too much."

Hyunjin lifts the pillow off his face and turns his head toward Felix, eyes narrowing. "Define too much."

Felix hums thoughtfully. "Like, enough that she knows we’re into her, but not so much that she gets overwhelmed and runs away."

Hyunjin twirls his pen lazily. "So no ‘hey baby, let’s go back to our place and make it a throuple tonight’?"

Felix snorts. "Yeah, no. Ease her into it. Be charming. Use our natural chemistry. We are sexy, we are alluring."

Hyunjin smirks. "We are menacing."

Felix winks. "Exactly."

Hyunjin taps the notebook. "We should also find out if she likes poetry. Romantic poetry shit is prime for girls like Y/N."

Felix blinks. "You think?"

Hyunjin grins, reaching for his phone. "Lix, trust me. Girls like her? The soft, shy, kind ones? They melt over romantic poetry. Give her some flowery words, and she’ll be ours before she even realizes."

Felix watches as Hyunjin starts scrolling through classic poetry collections, his dark hair falling into his face as he smirks.

Felix grins to himself. "You’re fucking dangerous."

Felix walks into the dance studio with Hyunjin in tow, his usual bright energy tempered only slightly by the plastic container clutched in one hand. The smell of caramel and chocolate drifts faintly from the tub, and he beams at the thought of presenting his little offering to you.

The studio is quiet, save for the faint hum of the air vents and the creak of rigging. And then they see you. You’re perched high in the aerial hoop, your legs hooked securely over the metal, your body poised as if weightless. The second you spot them, there’s no hesitation, no graceful climb down, no careful descent. You simply let go.

Felix’s heart fucking stops.

You drop, free-falling through the air like gravity is nothing, like the laws of physics don’t apply to you, and just when Felix is about to have a fucking heart attack, you hit the safety mat with fluid ease, rolling seamlessly to your feet in one smooth motion.

Felix lets out a strangled noise and immediately slaps one hand over his eyes. "Fucking hell, woman!"

Hyunjin, meanwhile, lets out an appreciative whistle. "Damn," he mutters.

You brush off your leggings, smiling softly as you greet them. "Hey, guys."

Felix, still reeling, drops his hand from his eyes and jabs a finger at you. "You can't just do that!"

You tilt your head, blinking at him in confusion. "Do what?"

"Scare me into an early grave!" Felix huffs, still clutching his Tupperware tub like a lifeline.

Hyunjin snickers, nudging him. "Relax, babe, she knows what she’s doing."

You nod, amusement flickering in your gaze. "I do it all the time."

Felix groans. "Great. Cool. Love that for my fucking blood pressure." Then he thrusts the container forward. "Anyway, I made you salted caramel brownies."

Your eyes widen slightly as you take the tub from him, handling it like it’s something precious. "Oh, thank you," you say. "You didn’t have to."

Felix grins. "Wanted to."

Hyunjin watches the exchange, eyes sharp as ever, before he casually leans against the nearest barre. "So, do you read? I need some recommendations."

You perk up slightly, shifting the tub of brownies in your arms. "Yeah, I like poetry."

Hyunjin hums, sharing a quick glance with Felix that you don’t catch. Bingo.

You set the brownies down carefully, then step toward the harnesses, pulling them from the hooks on the wall. "Ready to get started?"

Felix grins. "Strap me in, baby."

Once they’re both secured in their harnesses, they let you guide them through the next steps, demonstrating different movements in the hoop with practised ease. You explain the importance of balance, of tension, of keeping their core engaged, all while effortlessly moving through poses that make it look so damn easy.

It’s not. Felix and Hyunjin struggle at first, laughing at their own flailing attempts, but they’re quick learners, determined to keep up.

The whole time, they soft-flirt. Felix, grinning as he swings slightly, says, "I think you’re just showing off now, princess."

You blink at him, lips parting slightly before you quickly lower your gaze.

Hyunjin, hanging upside down for the first time, smirks. "Damn, Y/N. You always this good at making people weak in the knees?"

You freeze for half a second, fingers tightening on the hoop before you glance away. Felix exchanges a look with Hyunjin. Oh, this is fun.

Later, as you help Felix adjust his grip, his fingers brushing against yours, he flashes his brightest smile. "You got the prettiest hands, you know that?"

You stare at him for a long moment before blinking and looking down, clearing your throat softly.

Hyunjin chuckles under his breath. "Adorable."

By the end of the session, it’s clear, you’re not used to being flirted with like this. Not by them. And that? That just makes the game even better.

You sit cross-legged on Jisung’s bed, hands resting in your lap as you look between him and Minho with the kind of seriousness usually reserved for life-or-death situations. "I need you to teach me how to flirt," you say.

Jisung’s eyes light up instantly. "Gladly!"

You shake your head, pointing directly at Minho. "Not you. Him."

Jisung gapes at you, clutching his chest in exaggerated betrayal. "What the fuck?!"

Minho grins, stretching his arms above his head like he’s just been called in for his moment of glory. "Oh, sweetheart, get ready for me to turn you into a fucking succubus."

Jisung groans, flopping backwards dramatically. "This is bullshit!"

Minho pats his thigh condescendingly. "She needs guidance that you can’t give her, baby."

Jisung sits up, squinting at you. "Wait. Hold on. Rewind. Who are you flirting with?"

You tilt your head slightly, lips twitching. "Your eomma."

Jisung sucks in a breath, his face twisting. "Bitch. The worst part is you could probably turn my eomma gay."

Minho snorts, shaking his head. "Okay, let’s focus. Flirt with me."

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Min, baby, I don’t know if you remember, but you’re gay."

Minho waves a hand dismissively. "It’s for science." He turns back to you. "Come on. Woo me."

You stare at him for a second, then sigh. "I don’t know how."

Minho smirks, shifting closer. "That’s why I’m teaching you," He studies you for a moment, then hums. "You already have a massive advantage."

Jisung scoffs. "Yeah, she’s fucking hot."

Minho snaps his fingers. "Exactly. And on top of that, she’s got that whole soft, sweet, shy thing going on. You know what that means?"

Jisung smirks. "That’s why everyone thinks you like them."

Your mouth opens slightly in surprise. "Wait, what?"

Minho nods sagely. "You’re too soft-spoken and polite for your own good. Guys see the way you lower your eyes when you talk, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear, and they assume shit."

Jisung snorts. "She literally has it down to an art by accident."

Minho places a hand on his chest. "I am the expert here, Ji, shhh." He turns back to you. "Alright, so flirting. First things first, lean into the shyness. Play into it. Flutter those pretty lashes, soften your voice, act like you don’t even realize how fucking tempting you are."

You frown. "That’s how I always act."

Jisung claps his hands. "See?! This is what I mean."

Minho smirks. "You’ve been driving people insane without even trying. But now? Now we weaponize it."

Jisung sighs dramatically and turns to the side, staring at his mouldy soju bottle. "I’m just gonna talk to Dobby. No one needs me anymore."

Minho ignores him. "Okay, I’m going out on a limb here and assuming you are not dominant."

Jisung cackles and you shake your head immediately. "No."

Minho grins. "Perfect. Then we tailor your flirting to be all soft and submissive."

You nod slowly, starting to see his logic. "Okay."

Minho leans in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "The key," he says, "is keeping that sweet, innocent voice while saying absolute filthy shit."

You swallow. "Like what?"

Minho smirks. "Say this to me. ‘You’re so strong. I bet you could do anything you wanted to me, and I wouldn’t even stop you.’"

You inhale sharply but steady yourself. Slowly, you lower your eyes, flutter your lashes, and soften your voice into something dangerous.

"You’re so strong," you murmur, letting the words slip out like honey. "I bet you could do anything you wanted to me, and I wouldn’t even stop you."

The room falls silent. Minho stares at you, completely still and Jisung’s mouth falls open. "Holy fuck."

Minho exhales slowly. "I might not be fully gay."

Jisung wheezes. "Fucking hell."

Minho clears his throat, snapping himself back to reality. "Okay. Jesus. Yeah. That’ll work."

Jisung still looks partially like he’s been struck by lightning. "Honestly, she’d be better off talking about that smutty romance poetry she reads."

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You hesitate for a moment, then reach into your bag, pulling out a well-worn book. You hand it to Minho.

He flips it open, skimming through a few pages before whistling lowly. "Damn, sweetheart. You really are dangerous."

Minho exhales slowly, eyes still scanning the poetry book in his hands. Then, as if something clicks in his head, he snaps the book shut and looks up at Jisung.

"Ji, baby, can you run downstairs and grab the wine? Smutty romance poetry requires wine."

Jisung perks up immediately, pleased to finally be included again. "Oh, fuck yeah. I’m on it." He hops up from the bed, already making a beeline for the door. "Be back in five!"

The second the door shuts behind him, Minho leans in, his expression sharp and conspiratorial. "Okay," he says in a low voice, "we have about five minutes for me to teach you how to flirt with Felix and Hyunjin, so get fucking ready."

You don’t even question how Minho figured it out. Of course, he did. He’s Minho. Instead, you just nod, sitting up straighter, hands resting in your lap like an eager student ready to take notes.

Minho grins, satisfied. "Good. You’re fucking perfect for this, you know that?"

You blink at him. "What?"

He waves a hand. "Felix and Hyunjin? Both dominant. That’s why they like a third who’s soft. Submissive. Sweet. Which is why you are perfect. You don’t even have to fake shit, you just have to lean into it."

You chew on your lip for a moment. "So… how do I flirt with them?"

Minho smirks. "It’s all about contrast, sweetheart. They’re used to taking charge, right? So what you do is let them. Make them feel powerful, make them want to take care of you. You don’t have to say much, you just have to react the right way."

You tilt your head. "React?"

Minho hums. "With Hyunjin, it’s eye contact. Hold it just a little too long. Not in a challenging way, in a trusting way. Like you’re looking at him like he already owns you."

You shift slightly, processing the thought. "Like I believe in him?"

Minho grins, tapping his nose. "Exactly. That man lives for that shit. He wants to be needed, wants to feel like he’s guiding someone. So you let him. Nod when he speaks, let him touch you first, act like the ground isn’t solid unless he’s keeping you steady."

You exhale slowly. "That’s oddly poetic."

Minho snorts. "Yeah, well, you’re about to be Hyunjin’s favourite fucking poem if you pull it off."

You swallow, your heart thudding slightly faster at the idea. "And Felix?"

Minho grins. "Felix is tactile. You lean into that. Touch him, reach for his hand when he’s talking, let him be close. He loves affection. But the trick is? Let him be the one to get greedy."

You frown slightly. "What do you mean?"

Minho smirks. "Be soft, be warm, but just out of reach. Make him close the gap. Lean just far enough away that he has to follow. He’s like a fucking cat, he wants to be the one to come to you."

Something clicks in your brain, and suddenly all of Felix’s behaviour makes sense. The way he lingers, the way he pulls at the smallest openings for affection.

Minho watches you absorb the information, his grin widening. "Damn, you’re quick."

You shake your head, slightly breathless. "I never realized-"

"You weren’t meant to realize," Minho interrupts. "That’s what makes it fucking perfect."

Before you can respond, the door swings open again, and Jisung struts in, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and three mismatched mugs in the other.

"We drink like peasants tonight!" he announces proudly.

Minho immediately relaxes back into the bed, flipping the poetry book open again. You mimic him, both of you suddenly looking as though you’ve been deeply absorbed in literature this entire time.

Jisung squints at you both as he sets the wine and mugs down. "Why do I feel like you were up to some shit?"

Minho doesn’t even look up. "Ji, sweetheart, shut the fuck up and pour the wine."

Jisung hums as he uncorks the wine, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision as he pours deep red liquid into the three mismatched mugs. One of them has World’s Okayest Student scrawled across it in fading block letters, another has a faint lipstick stain from some previous owner, and the third is surprisingly plain compared to the chaos of the others.

He hands you your mug with a wink before plopping himself onto the bed between you and Minho, taking a long sip like a seasoned connoisseur before immediately grimacing. "Tastes like fucking fermented regret."

Minho snorts, swirling his own mug. "Yeah, well, that’s what you get for stealing from Chan’s bottom shelf stash. You think he’s splurging on the good shit for a house full of degenerates?"

Jisung shrugs. "Tastes better than convenience store soju."

"Debatable," you murmur, taking a careful sip, letting the bitterness settle on your tongue before reaching for the poetry book.

Minho glances at you, amused. "Alright, sweetheart. Enlighten us. What’s so filthy about this book?"

You flip open to a random page and clear your throat, eyes skimming over the words before reciting, voice soft yet steady, "Take me as the night takes the stars, without hesitation, without mercy. Let me be the gasp between your teeth, the ache in your fingertips, the cry in your throat as you carve your name into the temple of my skin."

Minho exhales slowly, blinking at you. "This is the most eloquent written porn I’ve ever heard."

You grin, tracing the words with the tip of your finger. "Yeah, it’s classy porn."

Jisung lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "You were born to be fucking Victorian nobility or something."

Your grin widens as you lift your mug to your lips. "What can I say? I have taste."

Minho smirks, leaning in slightly. "You do realize this is like historical whore literature, right?"

Jisung gasps dramatically. "Oh my god, you’re a literary slut."

You roll your eyes, laughing. "Shut up."

Minho grins against the rim of his mug. "You know what’s funny? This entire book is basically a blueprint for seduction."

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Oh? And what the fuck do you need seduction tips for, babe? You already have me."

Minho sips his wine. "Doesn’t hurt to be educated."

Jisung narrows his eyes at him suspiciously. "You are up to something."

Minho smiles. "Drink your wine, baby."

Jisung glares at him but obediently takes another sip, groaning immediately after. "This tastes like bad decisions."

Minho clinks his mug against yours. "A toast," he announces. "To classy porn and the fact that Y/N could probably read this out loud in a lecture hall and have people slipping out of their seats."

"Fucking hell, I hate how accurate that is."

Felix and Hyunjin stroll into the dance studio like they own the place, confidence radiating off them in waves. Felix has his usual easy-going grin, dimples on full display, while Hyunjin’s sharp eyes scan the room, landing on you almost immediately.

You’re stretching near the rigging, adjusting the wraps on your hands with methodical precision. The white sleeveless turtleneck you’re wearing hugs your frame perfectly, highlighting the curve of your waist, while the pink yoga shorts show off the strength in your legs. 

Your black-and-white-streaked hair is messily clipped up, a few loose strands framing your face, and your makeup, as always, is flawless, winged liner sharp enough to kill, lips glossy and soft.

Felix lets out a low whistle. "Damn, princess, you’re trying to kill us today, huh?"

Hyunjin smirks, stepping closer, eyes dragging down your body before meeting your gaze again. "She knows exactly what she’s doing."

You feel heat crawl up your spine, but you keep your expression soft, blinking up at them through your lashes as Minho taught you as Felix hands you the harnesses, grinning. "Strap us in, baby."

You take the harness from him, stepping forward to help secure it around his waist. As your fingers work over the straps, tightening them just enough, you let them graze against Felix’s stomach, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

Felix’s breath catches and you look up at him, eyes wide and innocent. "Too tight?"

Felix swallows thickly. "No, it’s good."

Hyunjin watches with sharp amusement, lips twitching. You move to him next, adjusting his harness with the same deliberate care. This time, when you lean in, you make sure your breath ghosts over the side of his neck, just barely noticeable.

Hyunjin’s fingers twitch where they rest on his thighs.

"Okay," you murmur, stepping back like nothing happened. "Ready?"

Hyunjin clears his throat. "Yeah."

Felix laughs, shaking his head. "You’re dangerous."

You blink. "What do you mean?"

Felix looks at Hyunjin. "She knows exactly what she’s doing."

You tilt your head slightly, letting the corners of your lips twitch into something just shy of a smile. "Do I?"

Felix groans. "Oh, fuck."

Hyunjin mutters, "We're so fucked."

You bite back a laugh as you step toward the rigging, pressing the button that lifts the hoops into the air. Felix and Hyunjin follow, getting adjusted as they begin moving, testing their balance.

"You guys are getting better," you say softly, watching them settle.

Felix grins, flipping himself into a more relaxed position. "Oh, yeah?"

You nod, tilting your chin up slightly. "Mmhmm. More control. More strength. More confidence." You let your voice drop just a little, just enough to sound teasing. "It’s really nice to watch."

Hyunjin almost falls out of the fucking hoop and Felix lets out a strangled laugh, gripping the metal tighter. "Holy shit."

You blink at them, feigning innocence. "Something wrong?"

Felix stares at you, mouth parted slightly. "Nope. Nothing at all."

Hyunjin just breathes, "Oh, fuck me."

Felix laughs breathlessly, shaking his head before glancing at Hyunjin. Then, without even hesitating, he turns back to you and grins. "Go on a date with us," he says. "We’ll plan it. You just need to show up and have a good time."

Your heart skips, but you keep your expression soft. Then, slowly, you nod.

Felix lights up. "Oh, fuck yeah."

Hyunjin exhales, looking like he just won the goddamn lottery. "This is gonna be fun."

Felix and Hyunjin peek their heads into Minho’s room, eyes darting around like two kids about to get caught sneaking into the teacher’s lounge. Minho, who is lounging on his bed with his laptop balanced on his stomach, barely glances up before sighing. 

"Jisung's at a lecture," he mutters. "You're fine."

That’s all the confirmation they need. They immediately shuffle inside, Felix closing the door behind them like he’s sealing off some top-secret mission. "We need your help," Felix announces, flopping dramatically onto the bed beside Minho.

Minho doesn’t look impressed. "Distracting Jisung while you two go on a date with Y/N?"

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. "Yep."

Minho hums, eyes flicking between them. Then, after a long pause, he smirks. "Pay up."

Felix frowns. "What?"

Minho sits up, shutting his laptop with a casual flick of his wrist. "If it was Y/N asking me, I’d do it for free. But you two fuckers? No way."

Hyunjin crosses his arms. "How much?"

Minho taps his chin thoughtfully. "Hundred thousand won. Then I can take Jisung out for dinner while you two are with his best friend."

Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate. "Done."

Felix sighs dramatically. "We just got fucking extorted."

Minho grins. "I prefer the term paid for my valuable services."

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but pulls out his phone, sending over the money without even blinking. "There. You’re so welcome."

Minho hums, satisfied, then stretches like a cat. "Alright, now what?"

Felix leans forward. "Min, help us figure out a date."

Minho lets out the longest suffering sigh, tilting his head back against the headboard. "Fine." He cracks an eye open. "No fancy restaurants. Not her scene at all."

Felix nods. "Okay, actual ideas, not just 'no’s, please."

Minho smirks, sitting up properly this time. "She likes stars. There's the planetarium where you can rent out a private room that projects constellations on the ceiling. Make a cute little picnic, take her there, and bam, there you go."

Felix stares at him in awe. "I fucking love you."

Minho smirks. "I know." But then, his expression shifts, darkens. His gaze sharpens as he levels them with a look so deadly serious it actually sends a shiver down Felix’s spine. "But you two hurt her or upset her?"

He leans in slightly, voice dropping to something dangerous.

"I will de-ball you both."

Felix swallows. "Message received, right, Hyun?"

Hyunjin nods solemnly. "Message fucking received."

Minho holds their gazes for a few seconds longer before he beams, all traces of threat vanishing like they never existed. "Good boys."

Felix exhales. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Hyunjin just mutters, "He’s terrifying."

Minho grins. "And don’t you forget it."

You’re rifling through your closet, pulling out options and tossing them onto your bed, lips pressed together in thought. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing here, staring at the growing pile of rejected outfits, but it’s long enough that you’re starting to wonder if you even own clothes that qualify as date-worthy.

Then there’s a knock at your apartment door.

You hesitate for a second before closing the closet, brushing off imaginary lint from your leggings as you make your way to the door. When you swing it open, you’re met with Jeongin and Seungmin.

They stand there casually, like this is something they do all the time. Jeongin, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, rocks on his heels, while Seungmin adjusts the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder.

You blink at them. "Jeongin and Seungmin, right?"

They both nod.

"Can I help you?"

Jeongin grins. "Minho sent me to help you find an outfit for your date!"

Seungmin sighs dramatically, shaking his head. "And I was sent to babysit Jeongin, in case he ended up fucking your neighbour before he got here."

Your eyebrows lift slightly. "Ms. Seok is forty-five."

Seungmin nods. "Jeongin does not care."

Jeongin pouts. "Hey, fuck you. I have standards."

Seungmin deadpans. "You fucked a girl in the coat closet at a house party because she had a nice voice."

Jeongin crosses his arms. "She did have a nice voice."

You shake your head, stifling a laugh before stepping aside. "Come in."

Jeongin immediately heads toward your bedroom like he owns the place, pushing open the door and surveying the pile of clothes you’d already pulled out with a critical eye.

Seungmin, on the other hand, pauses near the kitchen. "You got anything to drink?"

You gesture toward the fridge. "Booze on the bottom shelf."

Seungmin tilts his head, considering you for a moment before nodding. "I like you."

You grin. "Thanks?"

Seungmin pulls open the fridge, eyes lighting up when he spots a half-empty bottle of soju. "Oh, hell yeah."

Jeongin hums as he rifles through your closet, occasionally letting out a pleased noise whenever he comes across something he likes. He pulls out a sequined dress at one point, holds it up to the light, then shakes his head and shoves it back in.

"Your closet is to die for," he mutters, shifting through the hangers with a keen eye. "And yet, whenever you're at the frat, you're in sweatpants."

Seungmin and you step into your bedroom just in time to hear that, and Seungmin snorts, leaning against your doorframe. "And Felix, Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin drool like horny goblins anyway."

You roll your eyes, sitting on the edge of your bed. "I hang out with Jisung and Minho. It’s not like I’m dressing up to impress them."

Jeongin turns away from the closet, flipping his hair dramatically. "And yet, the slutty little men you’re going on a date with?" He gestures vaguely. "You’ll dress up for them?"

You cross your arms. "You literally just said I only wear sweatpants at the frat. Which means I won’t go on a date in sweatpants"

Jeongin gasps. "A fair point."

Seungmin rolls his eyes. "Just pick the damn outfit, fashionista."

Jeongin grins, then dives back into the closet like a man on a mission. Within seconds, he pulls out a black and blue tartan mini skirt, a pair of knee-high black platform boots, and a sleek black corset top with long sleeves that cinches at the waist. He spins around and holds them up like a proud parent showing off their child.

"This is your outfit," he announces. "Now go get changed so I can do your hair and makeup."

You stare at him for a long moment before turning to Seungmin, who doesn’t even hesitate before saying, "He’s a bossy little bitch. He’s on a power trip because he’s older than you."

Jeongin gasps, clutching his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. "Excuse me?! I am an artist."

Seungmin sips from the bottle of soju he stole from your fridge. "You’re a menace."

You shake your head, grabbing the outfit from Jeongin’s outstretched hands before heading toward your bathroom. "I swear to god, if I come out and you’ve somehow rearranged my closet, I’m locking you out."

Jeongin smirks. "No promises."

You sigh, closing the bathroom door behind you. The things you put up with.

You step out of the bathroom, the heavy click of your platform boots against the wooden floor drawing Jeongin and Seungmin’s attention immediately.

Jeongin, sprawled across your bed like he owns it, takes one look at you and gasps, hand flying to his chest. "Yes! Boobs are boobing, waist is waisting-"

Seungmin smacks the back of his head before he can continue. "Shut the fuck up and help the girl, pabo."

Jeongin pouts, rubbing his head, but immediately waves you over. "Come, sit. My work here is not yet done."

You settle into the chair he pulls out, letting him position you in front of your vanity mirror. He studies your reflection with the intense scrutiny of an artist before turning to Seungmin. "Hair. Up or down?"

Seungmin tilts his head, eyeing you thoughtfully. "Up, but with some loose strands."

Jeongin nods like he’s just received divine inspiration. "Agreed. Let’s get to work."

You sit still as he gathers your hair, nimble fingers securing it into a styled updo, leaving soft, loose strands framing your face. He fluffs them lightly, tilting his head as he studies his work. "Perfect."

Then he reaches for your makeup bag, pulling out what he needs with an expert’s precision. "Alright, gorgeous, time to make you a literal goddess."

He works quickly but carefully, blending, dabbing, and perfecting every little detail. He sharpens your eyeliner, darkens the corners of your eyes just enough to give them an alluring depth, and then adds a touch of shimmer, just subtle enough to catch the light when you move.

He steps back, admiring his work before grabbing a tube of gloss. "And now for the finishing touch." He swipes the gloss over your lips, then grins at his reflection in the mirror. "Oh, I am too good."

Seungmin, now sitting on your bed, gives you an approving nod. "Alright. You look hot. They’re gonna lose their fucking minds."

Jeongin smirks, twirling the gloss in his fingers. "Mission accomplished."

You step out of your apartment, the cool evening air brushing against your skin as you turn to wave off Seungmin and Jeongin. They’re climbing into Seungmin’s car, Jeongin leaning out of the passenger seat window with a shit-eating grin.

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!" Jeongin calls, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin snorts as he buckles himself in. "That doesn’t rule out much. Really, that’s a tiny fucking list"

You shake your head, smiling as you cross your arms. "Just go already."

Jeongin blows a dramatic kiss before Seungmin pulls off, the car disappearing down the street. You exhale, shaking off the last of your nerves before the low hum of an approaching engine makes your stomach flip.

Hyunjin’s car glides smoothly to a stop in front of you, the sleek black vehicle gleaming under the streetlights. The moment the car stills, the passenger door swings open, and Felix hops out effortlessly, moving with the kind of grace that makes it look intentional.

His smile is bright as he steps around, pulling open the back door for you with a playful bow. "Your chariot awaits, princess."

Your breath catches slightly as you take him in properly. He’s dressed in a black fitted turtleneck layered under a sleek, oversized black blazer that drapes perfectly over his frame. His pants, wide-leg, two-toned cargo-style in beige and brown, cinch at the waist with a black leather belt, accentuating his sharp proportions. His hands, adorned with silver rings, gesture toward the open door as he tilts his head, strands of platinum blond hair falling over his forehead. A black choker necklace rests snugly against his throat, catching the dim glow of the streetlights.

You let out a small breath, suddenly very aware of your own outfit, and how much effort Jeongin had put into choosing it and Felix’s grin widens slightly as if he knows. "Come on, sweetheart. Don’t keep us waiting."

You step forward, sliding into the car, the scent of expensive cologne and leather instantly surrounding you. Felix follows, closing the door behind him as he settles in beside you, the warmth of his body noticeable even with the slight distance between you.

From the driver’s seat, Hyunjin glances at you through the rearview mirror, his dark eyes flicking over your outfit before a slow smirk tugs at his lips. "Fuck."

"What?"

Hyunjin shakes his head, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "You just look dangerous."

You swallow. "Dangerous?"

Felix laughs, resting an elbow on the centre console as he leans slightly closer. "Yeah, baby. You’re out here dressed to fucking kill."

You glance down at yourself, at the way the black and blue tartan mini skirt hugs your hips, the way the long-sleeve corset top cinches your waist, emphasizing every delicate curve. The knee-high platform boots add height, confidence, a sharp contrast to your usual softness.

Hyunjin’s gaze flicks from you to Felix, then back to the road. "She’s gonna ruin us."

Felix hums, adjusting one of his rings. "Oh, she already fucking is."

Hyunjin shifts slightly in his seat, and for the first time, you get a full view of his outfit. The oversized red cardigan drapes over his frame, the distressed, flame-like pattern adding a touch of recklessness to his otherwise effortless look. Underneath, the fitted black tank top clings to his torso, contrasting with the heavily distressed black jeans that stretch over his long legs. 

The rips and frayed details expose hints of skin, silver chains hanging loosely from the belt loops, matching the statement belt cinching his waist. His chunky black combat boots, adorned with silver chains, rest firmly against the floor of the car, completing the effortlessly Hyunjin aesthetic.

You exhale slowly. "You both look nice."

Hyunjin chuckles, shifting gears. "That’s fucking rich, coming from you."

Felix’s fingers tap lightly against your knee, his voice dropping slightly. "Nice is an understatement, sweetheart."

The warmth spreads through your skin at the soft rasp in his tone, but before you can say anything, Hyunjin puts the car into drive. "Buckle up," he murmurs, smirking. "Let’s get this date started."

The car ride is filled with quiet anticipation, the kind of charged silence that hums just beneath the surface, made heavier by the occasional glance Felix sneaks your way and the way Hyunjin’s fingers tap rhythmically against the steering wheel.

Felix keeps shifting beside you, adjusting the large picnic basket resting between his legs, his rings clinking lightly against the woven handle. Every time the car slows for a turn or a red light, he glances over, his dimpled smile never quite fading.

When they finally pull into the lot of the planetarium, the massive glass dome reflecting the city lights in a breathtaking shimmer, you feel a small bubble of excitement rise in your chest. Hyunjin parks smoothly, turning off the engine before stretching slightly, the sleeves of his oversized red cardigan slipping down his arms.

"Come on," Felix says brightly, hopping out of the car first. "We’ve got a room to ourselves, princess."

You step out, the cool evening air brushing against your skin, and follow them inside. The planetarium’s lobby is dimly lit, the faint blue glow of interactive screens casting soft hues onto the marble floors. The receptionist barely looks up as Hyunjin hands over the confirmation email, gesturing for you to head toward the private viewing rooms.

Felix adjusts his grip on the picnic basket, swinging it slightly as he walks beside you. "You ever been to one of these private rooms before?"

You shake your head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "No, never."

Felix smirks. "Good. You’re in for a fucking treat."

Hyunjin pushes open the door to the room they rented, and the moment you step inside, your breath catches.

The ceiling above you isn’t just a projection of stars, it’s a full, shifting map of constellations, rotating slowly as if the entire universe has been condensed into this one, intimate space. The deep indigo sky is littered with bright specks of light, swirling galaxies stretching across the expanse in stunning clarity.

You exhale, eyes wide as you tilt your head back, completely mesmerized and Hyunjin chuckles, setting down the blanket he’s been carrying. "I knew she’d like it."

Felix grins, setting the picnic basket down before nudging your hip lightly. "You can keep staring, baby, but at least sit down so we can feed you."

You blink, reluctantly pulling your gaze away to look at them. Hyunjin is already spreading out the thick, plush blanket on the floor, smoothing out the edges before plopping down with an easy grace. Felix, ever the perfectionist, is fussing over the arrangement of the picnic basket and its contents, ensuring everything is positioned just right.

Felix glances up and pats the space beside him. "Come sit with us, pretty girl."

Your heart flutters at the softness in his voice, and you lower yourself onto the blanket, smoothing your skirt as you settle in.

Felix grins, flicking open the latch of the picnic basket before dramatically lifting the lid. "Ta-da!"

Inside, an impressive spread of food is neatly packed, sliced fruits, an assortment of cheeses, freshly baked pastries, chocolate-dipped strawberries, small containers of honey and jam, and a bottle of sparkling wine with three glass flutes carefully wrapped in cloth.

You stare at the display, lips parting slightly. "Felix, this is…"

Felix winks. "I do work in culinary, baby."

Hyunjin smirks, popping open the wine. "Yeah, he went a little overboard, but we’re not complaining."

Felix holds up a chocolate-dipped strawberry, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he smirks. "Eat up, sweetheart. You’re gonna need the energy."

Felix hands you the chocolate-dipped strawberry, his fingers brushing against yours, and you take it with a small, grateful smile. The warmth of their attention lingers on you, both Hyunjin and Felix watching as you bring it to your lips. The moment stretches just a second too long, the weight of their gazes making your skin prickle, before you quickly drop your eyes to the spread of food before you.

Hyunjin pours the sparkling wine into each flute, the soft fizz filling the quiet space. He hands you a glass, then Felix, before lifting his own. “A toast,” he murmurs, voice lazy and smooth. “To our pretty guide through the universe tonight.”

Felix grins, clinking his glass against yours before taking a slow sip. “I like the sound of that.”

You swallow, shifting slightly where you sit. The dim light of the constellations overhead casts their features in a soft, celestial glow, Felix’s freckles illuminated like the stars themselves, Hyunjin’s dark eyes glinting like constellations you’ve studied a thousand times.

Your gaze drifts back up to the ceiling, and something in your chest loosens. “That one,” you say softly, pointing to a cluster of stars near the centre. “That’s Cygnus. The Swan.”

Felix follows your gaze, tilting his head. “Like an actual swan?”

You nod, setting your glass down beside you. “It’s part of the Summer Triangle, along with Vega and Altair. There are a few different myths about it, but my favourite is the one about Zeus and Nemesis.”

Hyunjin leans in slightly, resting an elbow on his knee. “Tell us.”

There’s something about the way he says it, something about how both of them are looking at you, waiting, their focus entirely yours. Your heart stutters, but you push past it.

You clear your throat gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “So, in the story, Zeus wanted Nemesis, but she didn’t want anything to do with him. She tried to escape, taking the form of different animals to hide from him, but he kept chasing her. Eventually, she turned into a swan, thinking it would finally throw him off, but Zeus-” You gesture toward the constellation. “-turned into a swan, too. He caught her, and from that, Helen of Troy was born.”

Felix whistles lowly. “Damn. That’s kinda fucked.”

You let out a small laugh. “Most myths are.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, studying the stars above you. “That’s wild, though. A whole constellation just up there, frozen in time because of some messed-up divine love chase.”

You nod, fingers tracing a small circle on the blanket. “That’s why I love them. The stories. Even the tragic ones. It’s like a history written in the sky.”

Felix hums, propping his chin on his palm as he watches you. “I like how you talk about it.”

You blink at him. “What do you mean?”

Hyunjin smirks slightly. “You get all soft when you explain things. It’s cute.”

Your breath hitches slightly, your fingers stilling against the fabric. The compliment settles warm in your chest, unexpected, unguarded.

Felix leans in, voice dropping to something sweeter. “It’s really nice, y’know? The way your voice gets all quiet and careful, like you’re telling us a secret.”

You swallow, shifting slightly. “It’s just something I like.”

Hyunjin’s gaze flickers over your face before he gestures back up. “What’s that one?”

Grateful for the redirection, you follow where he’s pointing. “That’s Cassiopeia.”

Felix raises an eyebrow. “That’s the one that looks like a W, right?”

You nod. “Yeah. She was a queen, but she was arrogant. She said she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, and it pissed off Poseidon. So, as punishment, he sent a sea monster to destroy her kingdom. The only way to stop it was to sacrifice her daughter, Andromeda.”

Hyunjin scoffs. “Gods are so fucking dramatic.”

Felix grins. “Right? Ruining an entire kingdom just because some lady knew she was hot?”

You smile slightly. “Well, Andromeda didn’t actually die. Perseus saved her, and they fell in love.”

Felix wiggles his eyebrows. “Now that’s a love story.”

Hyunjin nudges your knee lightly. “What about us? You got a constellation for three people?”

Your breath catches slightly at the phrasing, and Hyunjin’s smirk widens like he knows.

You scan the ceiling quickly, mind sorting through the stories you’ve memorized. “Orion,” you say softly, gesturing upward. “It’s one of the most famous ones.”

Felix tilts his head, curious. “What’s the story?”

You hesitate, then smile faintly. “Orion was a great hunter. He was strong, beautiful, and had the favour of the gods. But there was a prophecy that said he’d be killed by something weaker than him. He laughed it off, until one day, a tiny scorpion stung him, and he died. The gods placed him in the sky, and Scorpius, the scorpion, was placed on the opposite side of the sky, so they’d never have to see each other again.”

Hyunjin lets out a low chuckle. “Felix is Orion.”

Felix gasps. “What?! Why am I Orion?”

Hyunjin grins. “Because you’re strong, beautiful, and a little too cocky for your own good.”

Felix groans, dramatically throwing himself back onto the blanket. “This is slander.”

You laugh, covering your mouth.

Hyunjin watches you, his smirk softening into something gentler. “She likes that.”

Felix perks up, turning to you with wide, expectant eyes. “You like bullying me?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! I just-”

Felix reaches out, gently tugging on the loose strand of hair framing your face. “I like when you laugh.”

The air shifts slightly, the warmth curling through your stomach.

Hyunjin leans in just a little, watching you closely. “So tell us more.”

Felix nods, tilting his head. “Yeah, princess. Tell us all your favourite stories.”

And so you do. You talk, and they listen. Hanging onto every word.

The sizzling sound of meat hitting the grill fills the air, the rich scent of beef and garlic-heavy marinades wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. Jisung sits across from Minho in their favourite BBQ restaurant, chopsticks twirling idly in his fingers as he studies his boyfriend with narrowed eyes.

"Not that I’m complaining," he says, plucking a piece of pork belly from the grill and dipping it into sesame oil, "but why the sudden date night?"

Minho, the picture of nonchalance, flips a piece of beef with precise movements, watching it char perfectly before answering. "What? I can’t just want to spoil my boyfriend?"

Jisung squints, chewing slowly as he leans forward. "You can. But I know you. And you, my love, are full of shit."

Minho scoffs, clicking his tongue. "Wow, okay. Accusations already? We just started eating."

Jisung tilts his head, not buying it for a second. "What are you hiding?"

Minho’s eyes stay firmly on the grill. "Nothing!"

Jisung narrows his eyes further. "You’re lying."

"No, I’m not."

"Yes, you fucking are."

Minho lets out a short laugh, shaking his head as he picks up a perfectly cooked piece of meat and places it on Jisung’s plate. "Eat, baby."

Jisung glares at him but eats it anyway because free food. The silence stretches for a moment as Minho continues tending to the grill with his usual precision, flipping and cutting the meat with expert hands.

Jisung watches him for a long moment before sighing dramatically. "Fine. No blowjobs for a month."

Minho doesn’t even flinch. He just nods, completely unaffected. "Okay."

Jisung gapes at him. "The fuck?!"

Minho shrugs. "What?"

"No protest?! No nothing?!"

Minho picks up his own chopsticks, calmly plucking a piece of grilled mushroom and popping it into his mouth. "Nope."

Jisung slams his chopsticks down. "You’re hiding something, you fucking rat."

Minho, completely unbothered, takes a sip of his beer. "I’m really not."

Jisung crosses his arms. "Two months."

For the first time, Minho’s eye twitches. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but Jisung sees it.

"Aha!" Jisung points an accusatory finger at him. "That was a fucking tell!"

Minho takes another sip of his beer, his fingers tapping lightly against the bottle, jaw clenching ever so slightly. "It was not."

"It fucking was!"

"No, it wasn’t."

Jisung leans back, smirking now. "Two months, baby."

Minho exhales slowly, setting his bottle down a little too carefully. "You’re so fucking annoying."

"And you’re fucking hiding something."

Minho picks up a lettuce wrap, stuffing it into Jisung’s mouth before he can say anything else. "Chew, my love."

Jisung glares but obeys, still chewing when Minho suddenly speaks again. "Fine. Two months? Whatever. Do your worst. Sweetheart, I can outlast you."

Jisung stares at him and Minho stares back.

Jisung shifts in his seat. "You’re bluffing."

Minho smiles. "Am I?"

Jisung swallows. "You’re bluffing."

Minho doesn’t blink. "Try me."

Jisung’s hands tighten around his chopsticks. "You’re a monster."

Minho hums, picking up another piece of meat. "And you’re an idiot who made a bet you can’t win."

Jisung’s entire body stiffens. He sets his chopsticks down with deliberate precision, eyes locking onto Minho’s with newfound determination. "No dick sucking for three months."

Minho, who had been reaching for his beer, pauses mid-motion. His eyes flick up, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of something that isn’t cocky amusement. "Jisung."

Jisung smirks. "Yeah?"

Minho lets out a slow breath, setting the beer down without taking a sip. "Felix and Hyunjin are on a date with Y/N."

Jisung stops breathing.

Minho tilts his head. "I can’t not have my dick sucked for three months. That’s just cruel of you."

Jisung wheezes. His chair scrapes against the floor as he grabs the edge of the table, knuckles white. "Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna pass out."

Minho smirks, poking at the grill with his tongs like this is just a normal conversation. "Breathe, baby."

"SHE NEEDS A CHAPERONE," Jisung practically shrieks, gripping the table like he’s about to flip it. "What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Minho sighs, flipping a piece of pork belly. "That your best friend should be allowed to be wined, dined, and double cream pied in peace."

Jisung gags. Loudly.

Minho doesn’t even blink. "You okay, baby?"

Jisung’s entire face twists in horror. "I am going to fucking die."

"Dramatic," Minho hums, plucking a perfectly cooked piece of meat and placing it on his plate. 

Jisung slaps a hand over his forehead. "Minho, she is too soft for those two degenerates!"

Minho shrugs, sipping his beer. "She’s got them wrapped around her little fucking finger. They’re the ones in danger, honestly."

Jisung groans, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth aggressively. "I hate everything."

Minho smiles. "I know, baby."

Hyunjin parks the car smoothly in the frat house driveway, the soft purr of the engine dying down as the three of you sit in a comfortable, lingering silence. The date had been perfect, from the soft glow of the constellations above you to the way Felix and Hyunjin had kept you warm between them, stealing little touches and lingering glances. Even now, your skin still tingles from their attention, the warmth of their presence settling into you like a second skin.

But the peace doesn’t last. Because standing in the driveway, waiting like a furious little housewife, is Jisung. In a bathrobe. With his hair wrapped in a towel. Tapping his slipper-covered foot against the pavement, arms crossed so tightly across his chest that he looks like he’s physically restraining himself from launching into orbit.

Felix is the first to react, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh as he lets out a low whistle. "Oh, shit."

You blink, watching the sheer rage radiating off Jisung like an impending storm. "It’s fine," you murmur, completely calm. "If he says anything, just tell him you’ll tell his eomma his nipples are pierced."

Felix stares at you like you’ve just handed him the fucking Ark of the Covenant. "You beautiful little genius."

You smile just slightly, and before you can even process what’s happening, Felix is leaning in, pressing his lips against yours in an excited, impulsive kiss. It’s warm, eager, and filled with so much amusement that you can’t help but kiss him back, fingers tangling briefly in the fabric of his blazer.

From the driver’s seat, Hyunjin watches through the rearview mirror, his smirk widening. "God, that’s hot."

Jisung gasps, his hands flying up to clutch his chest like a scandalized Victorian widow. "Disgusting! Stop that!"

Felix pulls away with a lazy grin, licking his lips as he winks at Jisung. "What? You jealous, Ji? You wanna kiss me too?"

Jisung screeches, whipping around to point aggressively at Minho, who is now standing on the front porch, leaning against the doorframe like he’s been waiting for this entire fucking moment.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Jisung yells, eyes wild. "You taught her how to FLIRT!"

Minho just smirks, crossing his arms. "Damn right, I did."

Felix grins as he tugs you closer, still buzzing from the high of your kiss. You’re barely out of the car when Hyunjin suddenly stretches, rolls his shoulders, then tilts his head at you with that telltale smirk. 

"My turn," he murmurs, stepping in close before you can even register what’s happening.

His fingers tilt your chin up, and then he’s kissing you, soft at first, a gentle press of lips that lingers just enough to send warmth curling through your chest. But then his other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens. There’s something entirely Hyunjin about it, slow and teasing, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for anything else in your mind except for him.

"AAAAAHHHHH!"

Jisung’s horrified shriek shatters the moment, echoing through the entire front yard. "DISGUSTING! NO! I AM BEING HAUNTED IN REAL TIME!" He dramatically slaps both hands over his eyes, spinning away from the sight like it physically burns him. "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?"

Felix, still breathless from watching the kiss, immediately starts cackling, doubling over in laughter as Minho sips his tea, giggling behind the rim. "I love this movie," Minho murmurs, eyes crinkling with amusement.

Hyunjin pulls back, licking his lips, looking very pleased with himself as he watches you process what just happened. "Yeah," he says smugly, "that was a good one."

Jisung makes a high-pitched, dying animal noise. "STOP IT! STOP SPEAKING! I CAN STILL SEE IT IN MY BRAIN!"

Felix wipes at his eyes, still grinning as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Suck it up, buttercup," he teases. "Your best friend? She’s our girlfriend now. Right, baby?*"

You blink, turning to him, caught off guard by the casual way he says it. "That was such a romantic way of asking," you say dryly.

Felix’s grin widens. "Well?"

"Okay."

Felix’s dimples pop as he beams, and Hyunjin, who has been watching you closely, grins, eyes lighting up.

Jisung shrieks. Again. "NO! I REFUSE! UNDO IT! UNSAY IT! I’M NOT LISTENING!" He covers his ears, spinning in place like a malfunctioning NPC. "THIS DID NOT HAPPEN!"

The frat house door slams open, and Chan and Changbin poke their heads out, both squinting into the dim light. "Oh, come the fuck on!" Chan yells, arms thrown up.

Changbin scowls. "Are you fucking serious?"

Felix raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Chan groans. "You two were already in a fucking relationship! And now you’ve snatched up Y/N too?"

Changbin crosses his arms. "Do you two ever leave anything for the rest of us?"

Hyunjin smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Nope."

Felix nods in agreement. "Not even a little bit."

Jisung groans, yanking the towel off his head and throwing it to the ground in despair. "I hate everything about tonight."

Minho sips his tea. "I love everything about tonight."

Changbin crosses his arms. "This is some bullshit."

"Cry about it," Hyunjin murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

Chan groans. "Unfair. Un-fucking-fair."

You smile softly, warmth spreading through you as Felix squeezes your shoulder.

"Too bad, hyungs," Felix teases. "She’s ours now."

Jisung groans loudly as you slot yourself between Felix and Hyunjin, their arms immediately wrapping around you like you belong there because apparently, you fucking do now.

"This is a nightmare," Jisung mutters, rubbing his temples like he’s getting the worst migraine of his life. "An actual, living nightmare."

Felix grins, resting his chin on your shoulder, while Hyunjin presses a casual kiss to the top of your head, clearly basking in the chaos. "Love you too, Ji," Felix sing-songs, his fingers idly toying with the hem of your skirt.

Jisung points an accusatory finger at him. "YOU shut the fuck up before I start throwing hands!"

Felix only laughs, dimples on full display as he tightens his hold around you. "What’s got you so upset, Ji? You jealous?"

"I AM NOT JEALOUS!" Jisung shrieks, throwing his hands in the air. "I am CONCERNED! And BETRAYED! And-" He turns sharply toward Minho. "THIS IS STILL YOUR FAULT!"

Minho, sipping his tea like this is the most entertainment he’s had in years, raises an eyebrow. "Oh? My fault?"

"YES!" Jisung jabs a finger at him. "You fucking taught her how to flirt and now she’s out here, batting her pretty little eyes at TWO WHORE DEMONS!"

Hyunjin gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Wow, Jisung. Whore demons? That’s so rude."

"Well, it’s not wrong, is it?!" Jisung shouts.

Chan groans from the porch, running a hand through his already messy hair. "So you two stop being whores and immediately get a hot girlfriend?"

Felix snorts. "Sounds about right."

Changbin crosses his arms, glaring. "That’s fucking unfair."

Felix hums, resting his weight against you. "We must have racked up some good karma in our past lives."

Changbin scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Good, because the pair of you better be fucking ugly in your next life."

Hyunjin smirks, tilting his head. "Impossible."

Jisung shrieks louder. "YOU GUYS ARE THE WORST!"

Minho, sipping his tea in pure, unfiltered amusement, hums. "This is the best day of my life."

Jisung whirls on him, face twisted in horror. "You enabled this. You encouraged this."

Minho shrugs. "I set my friend up for success. Sue me."

Jisung groans, stomping his slipper-covered foot against the driveway. "Oh my fucking god, I hate everyone."

Felix leans in, grinning. "Not us, right, Ji?"

Jisung screams into his hands.

Chan groans, rubbing at his temples. "I need a drink."

Changbin nods. "Same."

Hyunjin kisses the top of your head again, murmuring just for you to hear, "You still good, pretty girl?"

You nod softly, warmth curling in your chest at the way they hold you between them like something precious. "I’m good."

Felix smiles against your shoulder. "Yeah, baby, you are."

Minho, still drinking his fucking tea, watches the chaos with pure satisfaction. "God, I love my life."

Jisung groans louder.

And as the night stretches on, the world filled with bickering, teasing, and chaotic found-family bullshit, you realize, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx @velvetmoonlght @annafee_bou @mlink64 @intoanothermind @furfoxsake22 @daaaph-lol

Proofread by the wonderful @eastjonowhere

Requested by @ranna206

[h4nj1sunggg]

who? minsung x fem!reader genre: drabble a/n: I'm so sorry for not posting much but my exam session is killing me, I'll be back in two weeks!! wait for me >:)

minsung poly! where y/n is looking for some cat's food in a small shop, talking on the phone with a friend about the crazy idea of being a cat mom in her 20s, totally not expecting to see minsung kissing gin the hall where cat toys are.. and they notice her after, her mouth open wide in surprised like 'what the actual fuck is that', them being confused but then they notice the freaking miso's photo card on your pic holder attached to the bag that you're holding up.

"calling you later," you whispers a the phone, trying to take a step back and going from where you were coming, when a voice stops you, "wait!"

Your heart races as you clutch the phone in one hand and your bag in the other, fully prepared to disappear back down the aisle. But before you can make your grand escape, the voice stops you.

“Wait!” It’s Jisung. Of course, it’s Jisung. His voice is unmistakable—soft yet commanding in a way that sends chills down your spine.

Every instinct in your body screams at you to keep walking, to pretend you didn’t see the two men you’ve idolized for years kissing in the middle of a cat aisle like it’s the most normal thing in the world. But your feet betray you, and you turn around, clutching your phone and bag like they’re shields against the chaos you just witnessed.

“What?” you croak out, your voice shaky. Your gaze is glued to a suspiciously fluffy cat bed on the shelf behind them, absolutely refusing to make eye contact.

“Hey, no need to act like you just saw a ghost,” Jisung says, his tone light but clearly uneasy. “We’re just… uh, hanging out?”

“Is that what they call it?” you mutter under your breath, still avoiding their eyes as your brain replays the scene on loop like a cursed gif.

Minho, who has been silent so far, steps closer, arms crossed, and raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “You look like we’ve traumatized you for life.”

You blink rapidly, gripping your bag tighter. “I—uh—nope, not traumatized,” you lie, your voice an octave too high. “Just… buying cat food. Totally normal day. Nothing weird happened. Haha!”

It’s a terrible attempt at deflection, and they both know it.

Jisung looks between you and Minho, clearly trying not to laugh. “Are you… scared of us?” he asks, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “We’re not gonna eat you or something.”

“That’s what someone scary would say,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. You cringe immediately, heat rushing to your face. “I mean, no! I’m fine. This is fine. You guys do… whatever you’re doing. I’ll just…” You gesture vaguely toward the opposite end of the aisle. “…go that way.”

“Not before you explain this,” Minho says, pointing to the photo card of them hanging from your bag.

Your soul leaves your body. “Oh, that? It’s… uh… it came with the bag?” you try, wincing internally. Minho’s unimpressed stare tells you he isn’t buying it.

“She’s a fan,” Jisung says, grinning like he’s cracked some big mystery. “Right? That’s why you’re so weird right now—you know us.”

“Who? Me? A fan?” You laugh awkwardly, taking a shaky step back. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Minho rolls his eyes, clearly over the theatrics. “You’ve got Minsung’s photo card on your bag, and you’re buying cat food. Do you think we’re dumb?”

You open your mouth to argue, but all that comes out is a strangled squeak. The reality of the situation hits you all over again: you just caught two of your favorite idols making out, and now they’re grilling you in a pet store aisle.

“Nope. Nope, I can’t do this,” you mutter, shaking your head and taking another step back. “I didn’t see anything. This didn’t happen. You guys don’t exist. Bye.”

Minho and Jisung exchange a quick glance as you attempt to bolt, but Jisung steps forward, his hands raised like he’s trying to calm a frightened animal. “Wait, wait, wait! Just… can we talk? Please? We don’t bite. Minho looks scary, but I promise he’s harmless.”

“I am scary,” Minho deadpans, but the flicker of concern in his eyes betrays him.

You freeze mid-step, throwing them a look over your shoulder. “Talk? About what? How you were just kissing in public, where literally anyone could see you? What were you thinking?”

Minho’s jaw tightens. “We didn’t exactly plan on putting on a show,” he says coolly. “It’s not like this place is packed.”

“Packed or not, I saw it!” you hiss, jabbing a finger at yourself. “A fan. Do you know how risky that is? What if I wasn’t—” You stop yourself, realizing you’re dangerously close to spilling your entire identity as a devoted STAY. “What if I wasn’t, you know… normal about this?”

Jisung blinks at you, a little taken aback. “You’re not exactly being normal now, to be fair.”

You glare at him, and his grin falters as Minho nudges him hard in the ribs. “Not helping,” Minho mutters under his breath before turning back to you. “Okay, fine. You caught us. We get it. But you’re not going to, like… shout it from the rooftops or something, right?”

You blink at him. “Shout it from the rooftops? Do I look like someone who’s ready to start a scandal? I’m too busy trying to figure out how to scrub this from my memory.” You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “Seriously, what were you thinking? You’re Lee Minho and Han Jisung, not two random guys in love at a grocery store. You cannot just… make out next to the catnip and hope no one notices.”

Jisung winces, glancing nervously down the aisle. “Okay, yeah, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad,” you emphasize, lowering your voice but still gesturing wildly. “Do you have any idea how many fans would lose their minds over this? You’re so lucky it was me and not some TikTok-obsessed fangirl ready to post a blurry video.”

Minho’s expression shifts to something like mild panic, his cool demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a hint of worry. “Okay, okay, we get it. You made your point. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Why should I?” you counter, crossing your arms. “I’m just saying, maybe next time, don’t risk it. Especially not in a pet store of all places.”

Jisung leans toward Minho, whispering loud enough for you to hear, “She’s scarier than my mom.”

Minho’s lips twitch into a smirk. “She’s got a point, though.”

You huff, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Look, I don’t want to ruin your lives or anything. I just… didn’t expect to see that when I came in here to buy cat food. So if we can all agree to pretend this didn’t happen, I’ll just—”

“You promise?” Minho cuts in, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. It’s not intimidating—it’s pleading.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “What, do you want me to sign an NDA or something?”

As you turn to leave, Minho suddenly calls out, “Wait.”

You freeze mid-step, again. Slowly, you turn back around, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “What now? Are you going to ask me to swear on my future cat’s life or something?”

Minho smirks faintly at your sarcasm but doesn’t take the bait. “No. I just think we should… exchange numbers.”

Your eyes narrow. “Exchange numbers? For what?”

“For… secret privacy,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Secret privacy?” you repeat, deadpan.

Jisung snickers beside him, biting back a laugh. “Wow, hyung, that’s not suspicious at all.”

Minho glares at him before returning his attention to you. “Look, in case something happens. You know, if you accidentally let something slip or decide to post about this.” He shrugs. “I’d like a way to contact you.”

You blink, processing his words. “So, what? You’re giving me your number as a bribe to keep my mouth shut?”

“More like insurance,” Minho corrects, crossing his arms.

“Insurance,” you echo. “Right. Because that doesn’t sound shady at all.”

“Hey, you’re the one who saw us kissing in a pet store,” Minho counters, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly in the position to judge.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Jisung chimes in, grinning. “To be fair, he’s got a point. This is all a little… unconventional, isn’t it?”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Give me your number. But if you start spamming me with cat memes or asking for cat food recommendations, I’m blocking you.”

Minho pulls out his phone, his smirk widening. “Noted.”

“Wait, hold on,” Jisung interrupts, eyes sparkling with mischief. “If she gets your number, I should give her mine, too. For fairness, you know. And, uh, backup insurance.”

“Backup insurance?” you ask, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“Yeah, in case Minho forgets to text you or something,” Jisung says with a grin. “You never know.”

You roll your eyes but hand over your phone anyway. “You two are ridiculous,” you mutter as Minho types in his number, followed by Jisung.

“Ridiculous, but memorable,” Jisung quips, winking as he hands your phone back.

You stare at the new contacts saved in your phone, feeling like you’ve just signed up for something you’re not entirely sure about. “Okay. I’ve got your numbers. Are we done now? Can I go buy my cat food in peace?”

Minho nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Just… don’t forget your promise.”

“And don’t forget to text us if you ever need cat advice!” Jisung adds cheerfully, earning another glare from Minho.

You shake your head, turning to walk away for what you hope is the final time. “I’m never shopping here again,” you mutter under your breath, clutching your bag tightly.

As you leave the store, you can’t help but glance at your phone again, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You have the numbers of Lee Minho and Han Jisung in your contacts… and all because they couldn’t resist kissing in a pet store.

[fenya-scribbles]

Collide - Part 1

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Pairing: Non-Idol!Dancer!Hyunjin x Dancer!Fem!Reader

Other Characters: Non-Idol!bff!Minho, Non-Idol!Jisung

Summary: Dancing alongside Hyunjin is hard, especially because he seem’s to dislike you, but your best friend will not let that stop you. And maybe he also has other plans, who knows?

Genre: fluff, rivals to lovers

Content warnings: none in this one :) 

Word Count: 1,643

A/N: So, I had this idea while I was out on a walk. And I really wanted to write something for Hyunjin, because have you seen the man? He's occupying the first spot on my wrecker list of a reason. Also, yet again, Minsung is a thing here.

The beat blaring through the speakers accelerated, marking the most difficult part of the choreography you were currently learning. It involved spinning and crouching and lots of footwork, and more often than not you lost your balance and had to catch yourself ungracefully with your hands in order to continue the rest of the dance routine. That’s how it went down again this time. You cursed under your breath, knowing full well that not only your instructor and best friend Minho saw it - your fellow dancer Hyunjin did as well. 

When the music stopped, the room was filled with the collective panting of you and the other dance students. You risked a glance at Hyunjin, all sweaty and gorgeous, his eyes fixed on you. Quickly, you turned away again, ears turning red. “Alright, that’s it for today”, Minho said loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’ll see you next week!”

Slowly, everyone scurried towards the door, except for you. You had to wait for Minho to pack up, since he was your ride. When Hyunjin passed you, your eyes briefly met again and he said with a devilish grin: “You’ll get it next time, leftie.” You huffed, but before you could throw anything back at him, he was already out the door. 

“Ugh, I hate him”, you said when you were finally alone with your best friend. “Sure you do, kitten”, he said with a knowing smile. “Oh, shut up”, you said, letting yourself fall onto the bench that went along the back wall of the practice room. “I didn’t say anything”, he said, his hands up in the air, before offering you his water bottle. You accepted, giving him a side eye.

“He calls me leftie, you know”, you said, “because of my two left feet.” “Which you don’t have.” “I still can’t get this choreo right.” Minho chuckled. “That’s because you keep staring at Hyunjin instead of focusing on your footwork.” You let out an exasperated groan. “Ugh, whatever”, you mumbled.

“So, have you thought about the spring competition?”, Minho asked after a short silence. You sighed. He’d been pestering about joining the competition since before it had even been officially announced. It was a yearly tournament hosted by the dance studio. Another one would be held in the fall. The winner would get some money and be spotlighted on the studio’s website and socials. Part of you wanted to join, to further your career as a dancer, but especially after today, you felt discouraged again. You just didn’t feel like you were good enough to enter a competition yet. 

“I don’t know, Min”, you said, “I think I should skip this one.” He furrowed his eyebrows in disappointment. “You still have a few more days to decide”, he said, “just think about it? For me?” Once again, a groan escaped your lips. “What if Hyunjin enters?”, you asked, “I could never beat him.” “You don’t know that, kitten.” Minho gave you an encouraging nudge. “You’re already better than most of my students.” You couldn’t help but smile at your best friends unwavering believe in you. He’d always been like that, which was why you had picked up dancing seriously in the first place.

Minho dropped you off at home, pressing a light kiss to your temple before you got out of his car. “Say hi to Ji for me”, you said, one leg already on the pavement. “Will do.” Minho waved as he drove way, and you made your way to your apartment.

A few minutes later, you enjoyed the hot water in the shower running over your sore muscles. And once again, Hyunjin invaded your mind. The way he moved had you awestruck every time. You’d tried to befriend him in the beginning, but he’d quickly started to throw dismissive comments your way, and so you’d given up your attempts. You didn’t know why he didn’t like you, but that combined with the effortlessness with which he seemed to master every choreography in no time, had you boil on the inside. He just did something to you and you didn’t like it. Or did you?

***

The next day, you found yourself in the middle of the grocery store, when your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out to see a message from Minho. “Ji wants to know if you want to come over for dinner tonight.” You smiled and send back an affirmative gif.

You loved having dinner at Minho’s place. He was a great cook and you also enjoyed spending time with his boyfriend. You’d been friends with Minho since before they’d gotten together and seeing their relationship build and grow had always given you immense amounts of joy. 

“Y/N!” Jisung flung his arms around your neck as soon as he’d opened the door for you. “I have to show you something!” He barely let you take off your shoes and coat before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into the living room.

“Look”, he said, grabbing an acoustic guitar from a stand next to the couch. “Oh, is that the one you’ve been telling me about?” He nodded and put the guitar strap over his head. “It sounds so good, listen!” You let yourself sink onto the couch as you listened to Jisung play a sweet, beautiful melody on the instrument. You marvelled at the way his fingers slid over the strings, as if he’d been born to do just that.

Minho poked his head in from the kitchen. “Jagi, can you serenade my best friend later?”, he said with a grin, “dinner’s almost ready.” Then his eyes went over to you. “Hi kitten!” “Hi Min!” You turned your attention back to Jisung. “It sounds beautiful, Ji”, you said with a warm smile. You meant it, but then again, anything Jisung did on any guitar sounded like heaven. He was a musician for a reason, after all.  “Let’s go eat, hm?” You got up off the couch and made your way to the dinner table, Jisung following shortly behind, after placing his new baby back in the guitar stand. 

Dinner was excellent, as always. The three of you chatted about everything and nothing, laughing over Jisung’s stupid jokes and complimenting Minho’s cooking skills.

“So, Min says you’re not sure about the spring competition?”, Jisung said eventually. You gave Minho a look, but he just shrugged. “I don’t think I’m in competition shape yet.” Minho huffed. “That’s stupid”, he said, “you’re one of my best dancers.” “But I’m not the best. I should train more. Maybe I can enter the fall competition.” Jisung narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re afraid of competing with Hyunjin, aren’t you?”, he asked with a smirk. 

You could feel your cheeks blush. “He hates me, you know”, you said, trying to defend yourself. “He does not hate you, kitten.” “Nobody could hate you”, Jisung added. You shook your head. “You don’t see how he talks to me, Ji”, you replied.

“So, he is the reason why you don’t want to compete?”, Minho asked. You shrugged. “I mean…I guess?” “That’s a stupid reason,” Minho said, a stern look on his face. “There’s still a few days do sign up, you know?” You shook your head. “Can you please just let it go, Min?” He let out a disapproving hum. “Fine, but I still think it’s stupid.” “Yeah, I heard you.” 

Thankfully, both of them dropped the topic for the evening, and after helping with the dishes, the three of you settled on the couch and watched a movie. And even though neither of them brought the competition up again, your mind kept wandering there again and again. And with that, Hyunjin took up residence in your mind again. Hyunjin, with his perfect eyes and his broad shoulders and his unfair ability to rock every hairstyle. Hyunjin, with his cocky smile and his fluid movements and his gorgeous laugh. You would never be able to compete with him. Never. 

***

A few days later you were walking through the dance studio’s hallway, when you noticed a presence beside you. “So”, an all too familiar voice said, “you signed up for the competition, huh?” You stopped in your tracks and whirled around. In front of you stood Hyunjin, looking down at you. He was so deliciously tall, you had to lift your head a bit to meet his eyes. “What?”, you asked. You were sure you'd misunderstood him.

“The spring competition, leftie”, he said with a smirk, “your name is on the list of contestants.” “What?!” You could hear Hyunjin chuckle, as you turned and sprinted to the blackboard that was positioned on the wall a bit further down the hallway.

You scanned the board, finding the list with the contestants for the spring competition - and there it was, your name, right underneath Hyunjin’s. It had to be a mistake. You did not sign up. There was no way your name could be on that list. Unless…

“Minho!”, you yelled as you flung open the door of the practice room. Your best friend was currently practicing on his own, stopping mid body roll as he watched you storm towards him. “You signed me up for the competition?!”

“You’re welcome”, he said with a self-satisfied smile. “What were you thinking?! I can’t compete! Not when he’s my competition!” “Breathe, kitten”, Minho said, placing his hands and your shoulders. “You’re gonna be fine. This is a big chance for you and I couldn’t let your stupid obsession with Hyunjin get in the way.” “Obsession? Min, I’m not-“ He raised his hand, interrupting you. “I know, I know. Just thank me later, okay?” 

Fenya's Masterlist

[chimivx]

‘…and when you’re gone, i’ll tell them my religion’s you…’

Jisung’s dreams are an arms length away, lying in the hands of his superior who gives him a test, one that challenges everything he’s ever known, a taste of a life so intriguing. It’s only a matter of time before he’s faced with a choice… Whose hands does he take?

✞ sacrilegious!minsung au ✞ 27k  { three of three } ✞  ‼️ 18+, sacrilegious- it says it up top, blasphemy, its all very religious, they live in a clergy home, religious imagery, praying, god/christ/lord usage, they’re all devoted, eventual explicit sexual content, alcohol use, cigarette smoking, mentions of drug usage, light cussing, sexual acts occur in the church, it costs nothing to keep scrolling, IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW !!

“I don’t understand how you could begin to think that he’s ready.”

Jeongin spoke above whisper, his deep, scratching tone softened by the volume the priests chose to speak at. Christopher and Hyunjin stood on either side of him, the three behind the couch with their long coats on and gloves on their hands, scarves wrapped around their necks.

“You should’ve spoken with us before you said anything of the sort,” Hyunjin said, the melodic softness in his tone easing the harshness of the man before him. Nudging his glasses up his nose with his pinky finger, he exchanged an unreadable look with the eldest priest, then pushed, “This week will be the test,” through his lips in a whisper.

“The test? We know that he’s going to be fine, he always is, he always has been.” Christopher spoke louder than them all, the other two hushed him with raises of their leather gloved fingers. Adjusting the buttons on his jacket he tipped his head backward and took a breath. “You tell me you don’t understand, well here I am, not understanding how you can’t see how much he’s improved- within the past month more so than any time else.”

“That’s what worries me,” Hyunjin sang. 

“And again,” Christopher sighed, “Until you further explain to me why, that argument is useless.” Hyunin’s eyes sharpened, a wicked weapon he’s not usually so quick to whip out, though he’s had to several times over the last thirty one days.

Jeongin took a step forward, separating the two as he started for the kitchen. “Let’s save this for our drive, we’ve got hours ahead of us-”

“We’ve had plenty of time to discuss this prior to today, I don’t care how many hours are ahead of us, Jisung was, and has been ready for longer than this month. We have all the time in the world, but he doesn’t, there is nothing left for him to give, to show us, to show you,” Christopher snapped. Hyunjin lowered his chin. Jeongin released a breath and turned on his heels. “If I am sick of waiting for the okay, take one minute out of your days centered around torturing him and imagine how he feels.”

“Christopher, lower your voice,” Hyunjin said, venom in his tone. He took two steps toward him, his black boots clicking on the hardwood floor not covered in carpet. Standing his ground instead of resorting to caving in within himself like he would when Hyunjin lurked toward him this way, Christopher lifted his chin the slightest, trying to appear taller, stronger. His brain worked harder, quicker, this he knew, but the dark spirit had a way of getting in his head like everyone else’s, the ability to break his brain from the inside out, crack him. “That boy is the test.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Minho?” Christopher questioned, looking between his elders with a growing smile before he laughed. “That boy who has done nothing but his job, attempting to keep up with Jisung who we know goes above and beyond? He’s done it, you know. How long have we said that no one will be able to find the shoes to fit?” Both men were silent. “He’s done it.”

Hyunjin’s shadowed eyes flickered between Christophers, withholding words the youngest could see, a reiteration of what he’d said before. That boy is the test. Lifting a gloved hand, he tucked strands of black hair behind his ear as he turned to Jeongin, his eyes the last thing to leave Christopher.

“I’d like to stop through Soro on the way,” he spoke to Jeongin, passing by him, his boots clicking into the kitchen where he reached for Ann to give her his goodbye. “I want to try that new place for lunch,” he waved a hand about, looking toward the eldest for the answer, picking up a finger when he’d caught the name, “Haven, I believe.”

“Then we’d better leave now,” Jeongin said, stepping toward Ann to also bid her goodbye.

Christopher unclenched his jaw and smoothed his hands over his coat. “I guess I’ll get the kid,” he grumbled for none of them to hear. “Jisung?”

His voice carried through the living room and up the stairs, wrapping around the hall to his bedroom, but there was no need for it to. Jisung sat at the top of the stairs with his arms around his knees, his chin rested on one of the knobby joints. Lips pulled together tight, eyes full of nothing, he barely flinched when Christopher called out his name. 

He heard them wake up, he heard them getting ready, he heard them in the kitchen with Ann, having breakfast, sipping their black coffee. The suitcases he offered to pack into the back of the car last night, he heard them move, the priests taking them outside themselves. They had told him, “Get some extra sleep, Jisung, take the day off, you deserve it. We’ll take care of it, we can do it ourselves.” They were set to wake him up this morning, like this he supposed, calling out his name instead of knocking on his door. 

Standing in the living room, speaking aloud about him like he wouldn't hear, wasn’t supposed to hear, and then they’d call for him.

And he’d come running for them.

Like he always did.

He’d give proper goodbyes to Jeongin and Hyunjin, make sure they were set, that they’d be safe on their trip, and that they’d come back to him, for him. 

He’d maybe give Christopher a hug depending on if the older men got into the car before him. He’d wait for him to tell him good things, nice things. That he would get through this week, that he’d be back sooner than he left, that Jisung wouldn’t even notice he was gone.

Then, he’d shut their doors, plaster a smile to his lips to show them he was equipped to handle seven days on his own, which he was, and he’d watch them pull away. He’d watch the car turn onto the main winding road, and wait until it disappeared over the hilly Avida horizon, and then he’d take to the church, busy himself, distract his mind, and drown in work.

Like he always did.

And it wasn’t enough.

It still wasn’t enough.

“Jisung?” Christopher called out once more, the sound of his feet shuffling on the floor sending Jisung leaping to his.

Settling every gut wrenching feeling down with a breath, he tightened his fingers into fists and took his time down the stairs, a slight pause between each step.

He wouldn’t come running.

Everything he assumed had been the truth. He hadn’t spoken about Minho in a month. He kept their secrets, the ones shared between the hours of one and three in the morning, he’s shown little to no interest in him while around the three other men, only if it pertained to work. 

How was he still the assignment?

The test.

This week with him, it was a test?

Christopher wanted to give him the job.

Hyunjin did not, nor did Jeongin.

Christopher was right, Jisung had given entirely too much to not be handed what he deserved.

He had given too much.

“There you are,” Christopher said with a smile as Jisung turned the corner into the living room. Passing by the fireplace he’d light up later, he shoved his hands into his pockets and didn’t bother to greet any of them. “We’re heading out.”

“Okay,” the boy said. The priest took him in, his stance, his tone, his smile. “Get there safely.”

He hesitated, Christopher did, thinking Jisung would move, that he’d say anything else, try to cling to him like he would in the past. Jisung could see it in how his brow curved under, a slight shift in his eyes indicating his curiosity, his intrigue toward what his brothers had been discussing prior to the boy's appearance.

“Thank you,” he said, dipping his chin. The seconds he took to scope Jisung out once more felt like hours. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Jisung said. With the smallest raise and drop of his shoulders, he rounded the sofa and breezed by Christopher, letting the priest's eyes follow him, and then his feet, through the kitchen, out onto the back step of the home. 

“Ji?” Christopher’s question held nothing of value, Jisung was shaking Jeongin and Hyunjin’s hands, saying goodbye to them with a tilt of his head and the same version of smile he’d given Christopher. The boy glanced over his shoulder at him momentarily, a raise of his eyebrows with that smile telling him he heard him, but he didn’t want to speak with him.

Tugging at Jisung’s heart was the thought of him not opening up to Christopher about what he’s heard. There wasn’t any reason to punish the priest for not giving him what he wanted, it wasn’t his fault, Jisung needed at least two out of three of them to approve his ascent. He also didn’t see anything when it came to Minho, a tiny detail that didn’t and won't go unnoticed. The other two have raised their noses, or at least, Hyunjin has. 

But for the time being, Christopher was on their side. Anything said can and will get back to them.

Jisung wasn’t willing to risk Minho for anything.

Not even Christopher.

“Enjoy your time without us,” Jeongin joked, taking Jisungs shoulder in one hand, giving him the slightest shake. “You won’t have anyone nagging you to get stuff done.”

Jisung shook his head. “None of you do that to me, anyway,” he said. “I’ll miss having you around, like always.”

“I’m sure you will,” Hyunjin's words came with a breath, the man pressing a hand to the boy's back before slipping into the passenger seat of the car waiting for them beside the church. Jeongin followed him after another smile pointed at Jisung, getting into the driver's seat.

Awful really, how he couldn’t believe it. How his smile once held value, telling Jisung he meant something to him, that he was important. He could see straight through it. He couldn’t believe him.

Christopher, the last to get in the car, lingered beside Jisung, waiting for the boy to turn to him, to face him, to tell him what he was thinking, what he could see written all over him no matter how hard Jisung attempted to hide it.

“You’re sure you’re okay, Ji?” he asked him when his eyes finally met his. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Jisung nodded. “Think I’m honestly just a little tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Christopher hung his head, bobbing it in understanding.

“Hopefully this week you’ll feel better,” he said quietly, flickering only his eyes back up at the boy. “Try not to work so hard, yeah? Get some rest. By the time we come back you know how crazy it’ll get.” Jisung rolled his eyes and they both huffed a similar laugh. Christopher narrowed his eyes, watching as Jisung tipped his head backward to take in the sight of the November grey sky above them. His hands went back to living in his pockets, and his shoulders were rolled back. He appeared taller, bigger, and confident. He stood up straight instead of hunched over like he tried to hide himself.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said with a sigh, looking back at Christopher.

Grown up.

Jisung caught it in his eyes, the priest's surveillance sparked a nerve within him, like he’d blown his cover. “Go,” he laughed, gesturing toward the car. “Before they leave you here with me, you don’t want that.”

Christopher accepted the way the boy pushed him toward the car, smiling as he opened the door for him. “What if I do?” Laughing, he stepped up into the car. “Don’t make me go, stuck with these two.” Jeongin and Hyunjin paid him no mind, the two pointing toward the streets, figuring out which way to go. “You’re so quick to get rid of me, Ji.”

Now Hyunjin paid attention, Jisung felt his eyes like two pistols pressed to the back of his head.

“I am not,” the boy breathed, gripping the edge of the door. “You’re all lucky I don’t climb over you and get in the other seat to come with.”

“Any specific reason why you want to run away from here?” Hyunjin asked.

Jisung shot him that same plain smile he’d been wearing all morning. “No,” he said, sure of himself. “It’s just curiosity for this trip,” he nodded, “I hope I get to hear about it this time.”

Jeongin looked at him now, the scholar wearing a face that rendered him anxious. “You know we always bring things back to you, Han.”

Fingers tightening on the silver metal of the car, Jisung took an unsuspecting breath and shrugged once more. “You’re right,” he said. “You do. How silly of me to think you wouldn’t, you’re all so good to me. Thank you.” Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged a glance. Christopher gave the boy half a smile. “Enjoy yourselves, try to not miss me too much.”

Pushing the door closed, he raised a hand and took a few steps backward. The car engine sprung to life, and within seconds they were off, rolling toward the end of the parking lot, pulling out onto the main street. Jisung didn’t wait until they disappeared over the hills this time. Instead, he turned on his feet and hurried back into the house, yanking the wooden door shut with a newfound strength. 

Feet hitting the floor with a vengeance, heat pulsing beneath his skin, he flew through the house without a need to hide any longer. Whirling around furniture, bumping into end tables, all mannerisms he’d hide because there were six pairs of eyes breathing down his neck. Fueled by the thumping of his heart between his heaving lungs, Jisung hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time, the sound of his feet hitting the wood echoing within the empty house.

At the top of the stairs Minho and Christopher’s bedroom door creaked open, and a wicked smile broke out onto Jisungs face. Turning to greet him, Minho smiled, parting his lips to speak, but Jisung caught them in a kiss quicker than the older boy had a chance to get one word out.

They’d never done this in the hallway before.

This was reserved for his bedroom and his bedroom only.

Through a sigh, an involuntary sound escaping his lips without a second though, Jisung knitted his fingers into his hair and pushed him back inside his bedroom, lips locked as he kicked his door closed behind him.

Two beds were pushed to either wall, a dresser between them and nightstands to match. He’s been here before, but not since Minho’s been around. This was where he’d cry to Christopher. These walls have seen his tears more than his own room probably has, a fact both boys knew good and well about. 

Jisung threw himself against Minho, using his hands to pull him and keep him close, keeping himself nearly on top of him, wanting nothing more than for him to do the thing he does that makes him think of nothing else but him. Of Minho. The touch of his hand bringing him the most satisfaction he’s ever felt in his life, more so than he’s felt after venting his feelings to Christopher, even more than he’s felt sitting in a pew within the church.

He’s done it everyday, they’ve done this everyday. In the hours of work he’d do on his own he’d think of nothing else, Minho’s breath on his neck, his lips on his collarbone, his hand over his pants, touching, stroking. Afraid to do anything to himself, if the thoughts got him hard, and they always did, Jisung would clear his head with prayer, turning his focus elsewhere for a moment, until the cycle repeated. 

Every night he couldn’t help himself, he’d be throbbing beneath his slacks, his cotton striped pajama pants, whatever he ended his day with, depending on how long it took Minho to sneak into his bedroom. Knowing that Jisung was waiting for him so eagerly had Minho flustered as well, his hands taking to his being rushed, hurried, excited, the two moving like they were sixteen and giggly. They’d fall to his bed, the creak and rock against the wall not stopping either of their curious hands or heated kisses.

He’d get him there in seconds, Minho would. Amidst one of these nights it took one push of his hand over the fabric of his pants and Jisung, so wound up he could cry, finished immediately. Comforting him with kisses to his neck, to his earlobe, Minho calmed him and his pink cheeks down and showed Jisung the beauty, the marvel, in being able to go again. That was the night he gave Minho his first, what he taught him was called, orgasm. Though Minho called it something else, something that sounded much filthier that tickled Jisungs spine whenever the words were whispered into his ear while he writhed beneath him.

Orgasm. Cum. He didn’t care what it was called, he just never wanted Minho to stop. It was all he could think about. That electric feeling in his veins, the burning in his center, the euphoria rushing through him, the way Minho’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes fluttered shut as Jisung touched him, as he learned from the way he released the air in his lungs, the hums in his chest. The way he pressed his forehead to his temple, Minho’s whispers and praises of how good he was doing satiated him, fed him, spurred him on until he was arching his chest into Jisung’s, his teeth latching to the boys neck to keep from shouting aloud as Jisung felt him cum.

That same disgustingly delicious feeling Minho gave him, he was able to give it right back, and Minho was right, as he always was. After that, Jisung was able to go again.

In the middle of Minho and Christophers room they stood with their limbs intertwined, hands in hair, bodies rolling against the other, tongues pressed together. Jisung dropped his hands to the plain t-shirt Minho wore, the man dressing down as soon as he knew the priests were out of the house. Grabbing onto the cotton, Jisung yanked him backward to one of the beds neatly made with pillows lined against the headboard. Minho hummed, eyes blinking feverishly as his own hands tried to move Jisung away from him.

“Ji,” he whispered between pushes of his slick lips, “This isn’t-”

The boy didn’t care to listen. Thrusting his hips forward he knocked Minho backward and the man fell onto the bed, knees spreading so Jisung could stand between them. Taking his hands to his neck Jisung tipped his chin upward and never let his lips leave his. He wedged himself between his thighs and smiled as Minho closed them around him, trapping him.

“This is Christopher's bed,” Minho managed to whisper.

“I know,” Jisung whispered back, their lips never parting.

Noses brushing, Minho furrowed his brows. “What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked, catching his lips gently, letting the way Minho looked up at him fuel the fire building within him. 

“Something’s up.” Minho’s eyes fluttered shut within the kiss, but each time Jisung parted from him he took the opportunity to gaze up at him, not wanting to miss a moment. “What did they say to you before they left?”

He tried to kiss him again, to shut him up, but Minho dodged his lips and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist instead. Jisung tried again, then tipped his head back with a sigh, defeated. Looking down at the man he held onto, where his hands were wrapped around his jaw, he felt his heart squeeze.

“Why do they talk about you like that?”

His whisper had Minho’s expression go blank. “What do you mean?”

Jisung breathed, looking about the room for help, Christophers blank walls and neatly done bed making the anger he wanted to swallow turn into bile in his throat. “It’s like,” he paused, blinking, then looked down at Minho’s shining eyes, “They know.”

“What?” he asked, hushed, quiet as ever. Jisung swore all color washed from his cheeks.

“No, wait,” Jisung shook his head, feeling Minho’s panic as if it were his own, “They don’t know, I haven’t said anything, I haven’t told anybody anything. This is between us, I promise you, I’ve already promised you, I keep my promises.”

Minho slid a hand up Jisungs torso, placing a hand over his beating heart. “I know,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

Jisung loosed a breath. “I trust you, too.” Minho’s hand slipped behind his head, pulling him down for a slower, longer kiss that made Jisung want to crawl over top of him. “I just hate that they talk about you like you cause me problems.”

Dragging his nails over his scalp, twirling fingers around curls, Minho’s lips tipped up into a smirk. “I’ve been the problem my whole life. I can handle them saying things about me.”

“That’s not fair,” Jisung whined, taking his hands from his jaw to his thighs, falling down onto his knees between Minho’s. He jumped, pulling backward, placing his hands on the bed. Jisung smoothed his fingers over the pants Minho wore, not realizing or recognizing what he was even doing. “You’re not the problem, the problem is them. They’re the ones causing me problems.”

“Wh-what problems?” Minho asked, steadying his breath, keeping his eyes locked on Jisungs. The boy toyed with his belt, his fingers moving as their own entity, like he didn’t know what he was doing.

“I heard them talking this morning,” Jisung started, sliding his fingers in and out of the belt loops on Minho’s pants. “They said this week will make their decision, I guess, for what they give me, or offer me.”

“That’s a good thing though, isn’t it?” Minho questioned, withholding a gasp as Jisungs hands brushed over his zipper before they took back to his thighs. “You do so well this week, you’ve told me all about it. The way you prep them for the rest of the year, it’s always perfect, they’re sure to promote you when they’re back.” Jisung watched his hands as they smoothed from Minho’s hips to his knees. Glancing up at him and his hooded eyes, the boy started to smile. “Oh, you’re hilarious, Han Jisung.”

“What happens if I do this?” Taking his hands to his belt, Jisung sat forward, his chest lodged between Minho’s thighs. Slipping the leather out of one loop, the way Minho’s breath hitched made the boy laugh.

“What? Why are you- You don’t-”

Jisung pulled the buckle out completely, his smile making Minho’s thighs tighten around him. “What happens if I do this?” He dipped his head down, brushing his nose over the fabric that kept Minho’s half hard length from him. 

“Jesus, Jisung,” Minho breathed, taking his hands to the boy's shoulders. Jisung blinked up at him, his lips parted the slightest, his smile wiped away in an instant. “What are you doing?” 

Seconds were shared in silence, both boys staring at one another, one in shock, the other in denial. Jisung removed Minho’s hands from his shoulders and placed them on his own lap, standing to his feet with his head hung.

“Do you not want me either?” he muttered, averting his gaze to the wooden slabs of the floor. 

Minho sprung to his feet, his hands quickly putting his belt back together as he stepped up to face Jisung. Raising a finger he placed it beneath the boy's chin and tipped it up, their noses millimeters apart.

“Han Jisung,” he whispered, and the boy's lip crinkled. “I’m offended you’d even think that.”

“Why deny me?”

Minho furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Never. I just know that you’re feeling a lot of things right now, and I don’t want you to do something you don’t really want to do.” Jisung’s eyes softened. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I don’t,” he whispered quickly, and Minho smiled.

“I know,” Minho nodded, “But, you were about to do something that changes a lot. That changes everything.”  Jisung allowed his hands to grab his waist, his fingers dragging along his back. Minho slid his hand into his curls and the other over his shoulder. “I’m not letting you do anything we haven’t already done, until I hear you say the words.”

“The words,” Jisung whispered.

Minho snickered, the two laughing together in the comfort of his bedroom. “You jerk.”

“I mean it.” Jisung leaned into him, letting Minho bear his weight with ease. 

The older boy smiled down at him and fluttered his lashes. “And why’s that?”

Jisung pressed his lips together. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. He was able to think it, he could feel it, but no words seemed to suffice. How was he to describe to Minho that he made him feel like no one else? That the way he cared for him, spoke to him, brought him the most peace, the most clarity. That within just one look all of Jisung’s worries would disappear, giving him a purpose, a reminder of who he was, what he stood for. Minho became an extension of him, he filled him with pride, for himself, for Minho, for his work, for his life.

Butterflies filled him entirely, he couldn’t quite place what it was, how it happened, why they were there, but he liked it. It made him happy, Minho made him happy. 

He could compare it to the safety he felt around Christopher, but this was such much more. Minho could read his mind, Minho could feel what he was feeling, Minho seemed to understand him in a way no one else could. He never judged him, never hounded him with advice on how to live his life other than inspiring him to live it the way he wants to live it.

Jisung never wanted to be without him. Just the mere thought of him not being here brought him pain, a crack threatening to split his heart in two. It was fragile, already broken and messily thrown back together in no way that was absolute. 

Minho held it in his hands, Jisung couldn’t remember when he’d handed it to him.

When he’d given it over so willingly, letting Minho reach into his chest and take it himself.

“Don’t cry,” Minho whispered, dragging a thumb beneath Jisungs dark lashes. “Why are you going to cry?”

Jisung gulped. Burying his face in Minho’s chest, his fingers dug into his back, clinging to him. Pulling him so close he tried to occupy the same space. Holding him so tight he wouldn’t have a chance to leave, to run away from him.

Letting him wrap himself around him, Minho watched, then cradled him, in hand in his curls, the other around his back. Resting his cheek to his head, he breathed, and he let Jisung do what he needed to do, promising in silence to only pull away when the boy decided to. Pressing a gentle kiss to his hair, Minho whispered, “I’ve got you.”

“Who holds Mass then if none of them are here?”

Minho’s voice echoed within the church, the walls catching his voice and pushing it straight back to him, back to Jisung who balanced vases, candlesticks and books in his arms. Empty handed, Minho held out his palm beneath the boy's loot as if it were going to help catch anything if anything were to fall. All day he’d been a bit distracted, almost unaware of what was around him and what was going on. Smiling at him as he walked beside him, Jisung found it endearing.

“No one,” he said with a shake of his head. 

“Incredible,” Minho grumbled, looking backward into the church as they approached the double doors to the hall. Jisung questioned him with a hum, waiting for him to pull on the handle for him. “This should be the one week they let you do it.”

Following his gaze out into the church, the walls and pews lit up by the setting sun in hues of yellow and orange from the stained glass windows, Jisung took a breath and considered the possibilities. It made sense. If anything, it made more sense for it to happen now, during this week, since the discussions were happening more frequently, now that Minho was here. The two would be more than capable of running service themselves, they’ve done it together for over a month now.

“I never thought of that,” Jisung said under his breath. “Minho?”

Hm?” He faced Jisung, looking down at him and his full arms. “Oh,” he laughed, lunging for the door handles. “I’m sorry, I was…”

Stepping into the hall with Minho on his tail, Jisung slipped through the curtain into the sacristy and smiled. “You were what?” He dropped the candlesticks onto one table and shuffled for another to place the vases. Giving Minho the smile before shelving the books, he raised a brow. “What’s happening to you today?” Standing to his tiptoes, Jisung pushed the spines back, then spun to face Minho who backed him into the shelves. “I feel like I can’t keep your attention.”

Minho grabbed the shelf behind the boy, caging him in. “If I tell you a secret will you keep it?”

“Of course,” Jisung whispered, honed in on Minho’s features inches in front of him. When he moved his chin, Jisung moved his. When he tilted his head, Jisung tilted his. “I keep all your secrets.”

A smile pulled at his lips. “You do,” Minho whispered, taking a hand to the boy's cheek, toying with a few strands of hair that lay there. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, and Minho breathed a laugh toward his unwavering innocence he hadn’t seemed to lose yet. He might be stuck with it forever.

“I keep all your secrets too,” Minho said, pulling the curls away from his forehead with a hand pushed backward on the boy's head. He leaned back against the shelf, chin tipping upward as Minho came closer.

Jisung gulped. “Tell me.”

Minho eyed his lips, then gave him a lazy smile. “I’m nervous,” he whispered, “Han Jisung.”

“Why?” The boy screwed his brows further, a line forming between them that Minho drew a thumb over to smooth out, to relax.

“Because,” Minho said, dragging his fingers down the side of the boy's cheek, “I feel like… if I say anything, or do anything, it’ll… scare you off.” 

“Scare me off, how could you-“

“I could,” Minho cut him off, pressing his thumb to his lips. “Jisung there’s so much we haven’t talked about. And now…”

He didn’t have to say it, Jisung could feel it, like he always has. The nervousness, he understood it, he felt it himself, but he buried it, didn’t want it to come between them, whatever they were doing. The longer Minho spoke, the more it uncovered.

“You’ve had no trouble in the past telling me about myself,” Jisung said in hopes to acquire a smile, which he did. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

“Never, never,” Minho shook his head, glancing away for only a second, “it’s just, it’s not about you, it’s about myself. It has to do with you, but… it’s me.”

Jisung blinked. “Do I do it wrong?”

Minho broke into a laugh. “What,” he snorted, “Ji, please.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re perfect,” Minho said, leaning in to touch their noses together. Jisung smiled something small. “I just want to be honest with you.” Under the impression they’ve been honest with one another all this time, Jisung’s smile dropped. Minho, quick to take his cheeks in his hands, thumbs brushing over his golden skin, pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Remember when I told you about where I came from? The church?”

Cringing, Jisung closed his eyes and shook his head in Minho’s hold. “I do,” he whispered. “Horrible.”

Minho breathed, a dismal smile on his face. “It’s about to get worse.” Jisung peeled his eyes open and grabbed onto Minho’s wrists. “I wasn’t sent away because they found out I,” his voice trailed off as he glanced between him and Jisung, “Prefer… men.” He expected a bigger reaction from the boy, but he didn’t move. “One of the priests there, he and I, we… Were involved.”

“Involved,” Jisung whispered, stuck on his dark eyes. “Like… us?” 

“Yes,” Minho said, and Jisung broke from his gaze. Pressing his hands into his cheeks Minho brought his focus back. “And no, Jisung.” The boy, with eyes softening beyond belief, a type of pain behind them he didn’t quite understand yet, pouted his lips. “I was nothing more than something for him to take his shame out on.”

Gulping, Jisung licked his lips and frowned. “You and him, you, you did…”

“Sex,” Minho said, voice hushed, full of shame for himself. Jisung reacted to the word like he’s never said it before. “Yes.”

“And you wanted to?” Jisung asked.

Minho shrugged, shaking his head. “Sometimes.”

“Min,” Jisung sighed, squeezing his wrists in his hands. “You loved him?”

Minho, eyes going wild, rested his hands to Jisung’s shoulders. “Not at all. Why ask me that question?” 

Jisung knew why, but he didn’t want to say. It felt juvenile to explain his thoughts aloud. It also brought him immense guilt, the feeling so overwhelming he did not have any idea where to put it. 

Sex is exclusive to couples in love. Married couples. Couples as in a man and a woman. One is to be married before engaging in the act, it’s sacred. All his life Jisung kept it aside, didn’t acknowledge it, didn’t think about it, didn’t need it. Not until he met Minho. When the boys in school spoke of it it made him uncomfortable, when Christopher told him his stories of the women he’d meet late at night it made his skin crawl.

Standing here, with his hands on Minho, Minho’s hands on him, his touch strong, confident, and full of care, Jisung seemed to finally understand even if the strategically placed by Hyunjin wires in his brain were beginning to fry. He knew he wouldn’t go through with it if he didn’t care for the person, he knew he wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t in love with them. He’d wait till he was married, until there was a true, pure connection.

It held onto him. It smiled at him. It stood in front of him. 

“When people… have sex, they’re supposed to love each other,” Jisung said quickly before Minho reached into his brain to yank him out.

Smiling wider, Minho said, “They’re also supposed to be married.”

“Then why…” Jisung cut himself off before he said something he shouldn’t.

“And if I’m not mistaken,” Minho continued on like the boy hadn’t spoken, “Men aren’t supposed to do this, together.” Color flushed from Jisung’s cheeks. Hands dropping from Minho altogether he clenched his fingers into fists and sucked in a breath. Two hands slid back to his cheeks, knowing this would happen. “This is why I’m nervous.”

You shall not lie with a man as with a woman — it is an abomination.

Jisung knew the words. He’s read them.

They didn’t scare him until right now, in this moment, alone here with Minho. He felt a great deal towards him, he’s spent plenty of nights with him in his bed, it wasn’t fair. Jisung could meet a woman tomorrow, could marry her the day after, and no one would bat an eye, but this connection he shared with Minho… Repulsive. Disgusting. Untrue. It’s what they’d say. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Jisung whispered, his muscles relaxing. Reaching out his hands he smoothed them over Minho’s solid chest. “I think… Whatever I feel for you outweighs the text I’ve studied.” He felt a breath release from Minho’s chest, his hands resting over his heart. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s that?” Minho asked, tilting his head a bit, Jisung copying him.

“That if we were to… be something, it wouldn’t be allowed,” Jisung said, lifting his wide, sappy eyes to Minho who appeared as if Jisung had handed him the world in the palm of his hand. “I’ve never explored this with anyone before, Min, but I feel things for you, more than I feel for people I consider to be friends. It’s strange to me, to never feel these things for the women I should, but somehow, all at the same time, it makes entirely too much sense.”

“What the hell happened to the boy I met in September?” Minho breathed, the biggest, most genuine smile lighting up his face. 

Jisung grabbed his t-shirt by the fistful, tugging him closer. Pushing off of the bookshelf, the entire thing wobbling, rattling against the wall. He spun around, putting Minho in his place where he once stood.

“Just that, Minho,” he smirked, pressing their noses together, “He met you.” Squinting his eyes, Jisung rested his lips. “We don’t use profanities on the property.”

Minho laughed in his face, his head tipping backward. “You’re unbelievable.” Taking his chin in his hands, Minho looked at him straight. “But, I think I worry about you, Han Jisung.”

Jisung whispered, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But, I do,” Minho whispered back, widening his eyes. “You’re much too fragile to not.”

“Fragile?” The way his brows settled over his eyes made Jisung smile. “Come on.”

“Do not act like you don’t know it,” Minho said.

Rolling his shoulders back, lifting his chin as much as he could within Minho’s grip, Jisung clenched his jaw before he said, “I don’t feel fragile with you.” Minho stilled. “Around you.”

Which also made Minho nervous, but he’d never tell Jisung.

Hands making their claim on his cheeks, where they loved to live, Minho held him close, noses touching, breath intertwining. He wanted to kiss him, longed to press his lips to his, get lost in a moment of them, just them, without a need to fear that someone would find them, that someone would walk in on them. Jisung wanted it too, Minho could see it in the way his eyes flickered about his face, the gears in his head coming to a complete standstill when Minho handled him this way.

Something about being within the walls of the sacristy stopped him. The place sacred, and incredibly important to Jisung. He may not fully understand what he’s feeling, what he’s doing, but Minho did, and Minho could. There wasn’t anything he would do that’d put Jisung in jeopardy, with the men in the house, with the room they stood in, or with himself. He said it, he’s told Jisung, that he wasn’t here to hold him back, to keep him from achieving his dream, his lifelong goal he’s strived and worked incredibly hard for.

Gazing toward him now, the air between them thick, heating up, knowing that if Jisung understood the consequences of his actions, this impressionable, genius of a young man could very well drop everything and run from him. Or, worse. Jisung could throw away everything he’s worked toward. Within his obsessive brain, the hyperfixation jumped from his life, his work, to Minho. Though he feels confident, strong in himself, something he hasn’t ever been able to feel without someone telling him he should, Minho could not shake the guilt that he swallowed and kept buried.

November has never made Jisung smile. November has never filled him with joy. The month of November had been created for work, for grey skies, rainy days, and cool breezes, ones to fuel that incurable cold pit within him. A shock down his spine, skin chilled, raised bumps littering the golden hue he’d been blessed with. November wasn’t a friend, it was a reminder of who he was, where he’d come from, what he hasn’t been able to achieve yet.

Somehow, three days into the priests week away, the grey sky greeted him instead of looming above. The chilly air that’d assault his cheeks, turning them and his nose pink, didn’t cause him as much distress as it would in the past. Whatever the weather, it didn't, and it couldn’t, bother him. By Minho’s side with much more freedom than the two have ever had, November stayed outside. It watched Jisung from the sidelines. It left him alone. With Minho nearby, it couldn’t, and it wouldn’t get to him.

Sitting side by side on the living room couches reading the same book together with the fireplace lit, Jisung couldn’t read one word, his mind couldn’t focus, not with how Minho slid a hand over his thigh beneath the book. The day had come and gone, the two barely getting any work done, spending too much time teasing one another, and when they weren’t poking and prodding one another, giggling like little girls, they were silent, the only sound that of their heavy breaths between kisses.

Minho did kiss Jisung in the sacristy days ago, with his permission. The boy didn’t care, he didn’t think twice, he blinked his big eyes and asked Minho to kiss him, so he did. That night they ended up in Minho’s bed for the first time, and Jisung woke up there, tangled in his arms. It was also the first time their hands explored one another in the hours of the morning, Minho showing Jisung how to take care of the problem he’d wake up with while their tongues pressed to the insides of their cheeks.

It was all Jisung could think about for two days. The way Minho pulled the blanket off of them, how he held beneath his chin, keeping Jisungs eyes focused. His fingers wrapped around the band around his waist and pulled, Minho freeing himself of the pajamas he wore, making sure that the night before he’d fall asleep without a shirt on. The waistband wrapped around his knees, nothing beneath them, Jisung’s lips had parted with a gasp. He’d never seen him before, only felt him.

Talking him through it with whispers to his lips, Minho told him what to do, and Jisung obeyed. The boy pushed his pants down his hips, his heart pounding within his chest, his jaw clenching in Minho’s grasp. No one’s seen him naked before, he’s never seen anyone naked before, and here Minho was beside him, bare aside from the pants covering the lower half of his legs. A smirk had pulled at his lips, the older boy tilting his head to catch Jisung’s lips in a slow, gentle kiss before telling him what to do, to do what he does.

Jisung wanted to watch, but he wanted to kiss him too. Teeth clashing, he darted his eyes to Minho’s hand as it drug over his torso, down his hips. The softest groan came out of Minho, muffled by Jisung’s lips, as his hand wrapped around himself, fingers tightening ever so slightly. White knuckles contrasted with the deepening pink of his tip, Jisung let out a sound right after, tongue lobbing into his mouth without an ounce of self control.

He whispered to him, told him again to do it with him, after instructing him to spit into his open palm he brought beneath his chin, the hand that was just wrapped around his cock. Obeying every order, Minho smiled something soft toward him, grabbing Jisung’s hand that lingered over his torso, letting a thick wad of spit fall from his lips into the boy's palm.

They kissed until they couldn’t. Their tongues danced together until they were whiney, grunting, chest heaving, stomach tightening messes. Jisung came first, Minho showering him in praises in forms of gasps as the boy watched himself cum all over the shirt he wore. Exhilarating, doing that himself, knowing that he can do that himself, and that he will be doing that again, but nothing compared to watching Minho, listening to him, the sounds he made, the sounds his body made.

He knew how to move his hand. Jisung had only been able to jack his hand up and down a few times before he was seeing stars, but Minho, his grip rough, his pace quick, the twist of his wrist positively delectable. Jisung took it all in, he studied him, the way he touched himself without looking away from the boy, his body, his eyes. It took him minutes to finish, Jisung got hard all over again, the moment it happened nearly made him orgasm untouched. 

Lips pressed together in a messy spit slicked kiss, Minho jerked himself dry, whispered Can I touch you? on Jisung’s lips, and after acquiring the most pleading Yes he’s ever heard, he drug his hand through his release on his chest and swiftly wrapped his hand around Jisung, the boy's entire body writhing in an instant. Minho touched him, without anything in the way, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t process it, couldn’t think about anything else but him, Minho. Minho. 

It took nothing. Minho twisted his wrist, teased his tip, whispered one good boy to his lips and Jisung was cumming much harder than he ever had before. 

Fidgeting where he sat, Minho’s hand now toying with the seam of his pants on the inside of his thigh while the other flipped the page of the book, Jisung took his bottom lip between his teeth and laid his head on Minho’s shoulder. Warmth from the crackling fire comforted him, and would have aided in lulling him to sleep if his skin wasn’t burning more than the flames themselves. His hand was too close, it drove him crazy.

He could see it, his fingers tugging at his length, the way his thumb teased his slit, every tweak of his wrist rendering him utterly thoughtless. God, he’s never felt anything more amazing. 

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asked, his voice a low rumble over the cracking of the wood. His eyes never left the page. 

Jisung gulped. “Nothing.”

Minho snapped the book shut with one hand and tossed it to the couch beside him. With a smirk on his lips he turned his chin toward Jisung. “Liar, I can feel how tense you are.” Lowering his eyes to his hand and Jisungs thigh muscles tightened into oblivion, the boy attempted to relax with a chuckle as he reached to tangle his fingers within Minho’s. “What’ve we forgotten to do?” Minho questioned, leaning backward on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front of him, his feet touching the coffee table. “I know we’ve got a lot more to get through, you have to show me how to put the office back together, we have to finish bringing out the decorations for Christmas, but we have four days to do it, we can-”

Jisung swung a leg over his lap, straddling him as he would, and as he liked to do. Cutting him short he grabbed his face and smothered his lips with his own, pressing himself against Minho’s rock solid chest. Hands darting out to the side, Minho didn’t know what to do with them. On the couch, on his own legs, in the air beside him, he didn’t know where to hold, what to touch.

They were in the living room, in the middle of the house where everyone spent the most time, where everyone would collect in the nighttime especially now that the world has grown colder. Sure they’ve both grown bolder, have been together outside of the safety of Jisung’s bedroom, and yes, no one was here. Minho thinks he just can’t believe how bold he’s become, and all of a sudden. 

Jisung says it’s because of him, because of Minho, because of his presence. He’s bold around him, has grown confident because of him. Though Minho could agree, that Jisung has changed him as well, it certainly hasn’t been to this degree. No, Minho would still keep his walls up around anyone that wasn’t the boy on his lap. He’s grown softer, towards Jisung, but wouldn’t allow the others to see this side of him. They didn’t deserve to see it, not with how they treated him, treated Jisung.

Free of having to hide Jisung let out the sweetest little whines as he grinded his body into Minho’s, his lips trailing from his lips to Minho’s sharp jaw where he pressed the softest kisses.

He knows what he’s done, Minho does. That’s why that guilt grew, that fear within him, it had the power to paralyze him if he didn’t have the strength to keep it down, keep it locked up. Jisung had grown attached, which is nothing for Minho to have a say in, because he’s grown attached too. To Jisung, to the way he moves, the way he kisses him like he’ll lose him tomorrow, how he laughs, how he makes decisions for himself and sticks to them, he follows through, he’s always been confident, always been strong, he’s never needed Minho around to act that way.

He was that way.

His tiny frame, barely matching Minho’s chest in width- entirely endearing. How he liked figuring things out for himself now that Minho’s cracked through that shell of his, how each time they’re here, on top of one another, Jisung is doing something different, pressing his lips somewhere new, not letting his fingers keep an inch of Minho unexplored.

He let him. Minho laid back, finally placed his hands to his thin waist, and let Jisung have his way with him. It was as if Minho rewound the clocks to eighteen, Jisung acting and reacting like a teenager whose brain and hormones finally clocked in. 

At least it was him. Between every kiss, every whimper from his lips, every roll of his hips and tug of his hair, Minho thanked God that he had found him before anyone else. The idea that this could have been someone else made his blood run redhot. That Jisung could’ve fallen victim to what he went through, what Minho was forced to succumb to for the sake of his own sexual satisfaction, not that the three men who lived within these walls seemed the type to do such things. Minho worried.

All these years, hearing about Han Jisung, the amazing, talented, genius Han Jisung, Minho had been prepped to be faced with living a nightmare for the rest of his days here in Avida. Hope running on empty, trust rail thin, loyalty on the back burner… Jisung wrecked it all the second he sat down in Christopher’s office. A small, unsuspecting, closeted gay boy flustered beyond belief whenever Minho took a second to look at him. He wasn’t at all what he expected. This boy broke records, this boy held the highest honors, this boy trailblazed his way here without looking back.

This tiny little thing with his knees and toes turned in and the slightest slouch in his shoulders. 

“I’m thinking about you, Min,” Jisung whispered, slipping his tongue over his lips. “I’m always thinking about you.”

Minho wouldn’t say he’d done it on purpose, though his eyes told a different story. It wasn’t his intention to have Jisung end up here on his lap, to corrupt whatever pristine fantasy the boy lived within. Simple curiosity drove him here, drove them both here. Minho wanted to know how he’d done it, lived a life so pure, and Jisung was driven by human instinct. Besides, who could blame Jisung for wanting a taste of sin when it looked this good beneath him.

Minho didn’t intend on falling so damn hard.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

These drawn out nights, the sneaking around, the teasing all day just to kiss him a few times at night- it wasn’t supposed to happen. Minho wanted him the second he saw him, wanted him under him, back arched, slim waist in his big hands. It didn’t happen that way. Jisung climbed on top of him. Every time he pinned him down, he grasped control, he took this where he wanted it to go, and Minho so willingly let it happen.

He doesn’t know when he forfeited the fight, white flag waving, he’s not even sure he’s ever even had the upper hand. Something about Jisung, Minho couldn’t say no, couldn’t tell him what to do even if he tried. He wanted to give him everything he’s ever wanted, all it took was a few blinks of those pure wide eyes and Minho was putty in his hands. The slightest pout of his lips and Minho’s brain switched off.

Whatever Jisung wanted, Jisung got.

Small hands gripped the collar of his shirt, tiny fingers slipping in between the buttons, giving the fabric a harsh tug, pulling it open. Jisung, taking his lips down the side of Minho’s neck, pulling his skin roughly between his teeth, he moved over his collar bone, his tongue dipping into the valleys of each bone, every muscle. Minho’s head tipped backward, eyes fluttering shut, his own sighs and desperate hums, pleas for more, spurring the boy on.

Laying messy, hot, open mouthed kisses to his exposed porcelain chest, Jisung tugged his shirt to the side and tried something new, his conscious brain off, driven completely by the pulsing between his legs. Wrapping his lips around one of Minho’s nipples he giggled as his body jerked, the man's fingers digging into his waist. Pulling away, lips slick, having made a complete mess of his chest, Jisung gazed up at him and poked out his tongue, flicking it over the bud slowly, smiling as every muscle in Minho’s body tensed.

“That feels good?” he asked, and Minho dropped his chin, lips parted, eyes hooded.

Taking a hand to Jisung’s curls, he gasped, “Yes,” and pushed the boy's head back down. 

With a smile he drew his tongue in circles, slipping a hand beneath Minho’s shirt to brush his fingers over the other. “What if I do this?” A delicate graze over the rock hard bud sent a chill down Minho’s spine. He was hard under him, Jisung could feel it, he was fighting to not buck his hips up into him. Taking his lips to the other, making sure he had his full attention everywhere, Jisung rubbed his thumb through the slick he left behind and pushed. Then he flicked his thumb side to side, just barely brushing the tip. Sucking on the other, he pulled away, a string of saliva dangling from his lips. “Minho?” His warm breath tickled his wet skin.

Sucking air in through his teeth, Minho tipped his head down and clenched his jaw. “Jisung?”

The boy twisted his brows together and studied his face, his expression one like he saw that morning, while Minho touched himself. Keeping their eyes locked, Jisung opened his mouth and latched his lips to his nipple, Minho writhing beneath him. He let his teeth graze over it slightly, eliciting a groan from his chest, and made sure to leave a mess behind when he parted from him. 

Lips puffy, shining in the glow of the flames in the fireplace, he released a breath over Minho’s slick skin and watched him gasp. Spinning his tongue in his mouth, gathering what he could, forcing more from his tongue, Jisung leaned over his chest and let a thick wad of spit fall over each hardened bud. Eyes flickering up to meet Minho’s, Jisung pursed his lips and blew cool air over his chest, his middle fingers barely touching those sensitive spots, nudging them, teasing him.

He learned it all in real time, while doing, while watching, listening. A genius, he picked up on all of it, how Minho’s body responded, what he needed to do to make him make moan like that again, what it took to get him hard, what it took to get him not hard.

Wondering what would happen if he kept going like this, if touching him this way could make him cum, he wanted to find out. His body reacted the same way, he made the same sounds, if anything he was louder. Flicking his tongue faster, quicker, prodding him full of more pleasure, he felt determined to make it happen, if it was possible.

But, then he remembered that Minho taught him something about stamina. It’s why Jisung came within seconds, but Minho could go for so much longer. Virgins didn’t have stamina, that’s why Jisung could burst at any moment and Minho wasn’t even touching him. He was new at this, inexperienced, and stamina came with time, with practice. It could take forever to get Minho to finish without touching him elsewhere.

His hands slid down his torso, keeping his lips moving, his tongue working, Minho panting. Unbuttoning his pants, moving so gently he prayed his lips would keep him distracted so he wouldn’t stop him, he pulled at the zipper and sighed, getting his hand over his underwear, over his very long, very hard length. The way Minho moaned made Jisung’s stomach tighten, so much so that he had to stop what he was doing, had to close his eyes and breathe so he didn’t make a mess of his pants.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” Jisung whispered.

Minho threw his head forehead, his eyes wild as he sneered through his teeth, “You’re gonna make me cum.” The way the boy smirked up at him didn’t help.

“Good.”

“Jisung, hang on,” Minho breathed, “Wait, I-”

He didn’t wait. He couldn’t wait. His heart pounded between his lungs, he was one track minded, he had something to do, something to finish.

Sliding off of his lap to the floor, Jisung fit perfectly between his knees, his sturdy thighs framing his face. Fingers curling under the waistband, he tugged his bottoms down and Minho’s length nearly tapped his nose with how it sprung free. Eyes widening, mouth salivating without realizing, Jisung looked up at Minho who held his breath. His hands were on the couch, grasping for anything to keep him here, present, steady. Looking up at him, his broad exposed chest, his wide shoulders, his thick thighs parted to house Jisung between them. He felt small. Just sitting on the couch Minho towered over him, could grab him with a hand and pin him on his back, taking control like it was nothing.

But he didn’t.

His wide eyes laced with lust gazed down at Jisung, admiring how small he was like Jisung admired how big Minho was. The way the boy gulped at the sheer size of him, his pouted lips inches from his leaking, eager red tip, an innocence once conquered by the facade of he knew what he was doing, but he didn’t. 

He’d gotten this far, he’d figure it out.

Blinking a billion times, eyes focused, Jisung leaned into his hips and wrapped a hand around the base of his length, praying away shaking fingers as he grasped him, and squeezed him like Minho did to himself that morning. 

“Shiii- Ji,” Minho grit his teeth, his head falling backward, eyes screwed shut. His hand, so small, his fingers, tiny little things, still able to send sparks through his being.

Remembering what he was taught, looking between his heaving chest and his cock that somehow hardened further, he spit into his other hand and swapped it for the other, the coolness of his touch making Minho wince and whine. Smoothing the slick up and down his length, every ridge, every vein like gold in his fingers, he started to smile. Taking in how he looked, long, thick, perfect, his lips parted and his jaw fell open.

An involuntary response. Mouth pooling with saliva, bound to dribble over his chin if he didn’t shut his jaw, he felt empty.

“God, Jisung,” Minho’s moans were as desperate as they’d started, every deep, orgasmic sound making his throat and belly tighten.

What is that?

Licking his lips as his hand tugged up to his tip, his palm smoothing over it like Minho had done to Jisung, he gulped and moved closer. His tongue bobbed in his mouth, pushing against the back of his throat, longing to fall out of his lips. Minho’s gasps, the twitching of his length, the jerking of his hips, Jisung couldn’t help but moan aloud, pressing himself into his thighs, slipping Minho’s tip between his parted lips. Hands flew into his curls, Minho’s fingers tangling with the waves, gripping him tight.

“Jisung,” he groaned, but the boy ignored him.

It felt good. Body tingling, heart thumping, Jisung’s eyes fluttered shut. Breathing through his nose, taking in a deep breath, he sighed around him and sank further, letting Minho’s length hit that spot in his throat, the back of his mouth. Sliding his tongue along the bottom, he pulled away just a bit before ever so slightly twisting his chin before sinking back down, the tip of Minho’s cock hitting places that made Jisung feel fuzzy. Minho, a mess beneath him, couldn’t compare to the way Jisung rutted himself against the couch, bobbed his head faster, and faster, longing to feel him everywhere, feeling so full of him, like every need he ever had was being fulfilled in this moment.

He couldn’t stop, not even when Minho moaned out his name, not even when he felt his own high sparked, rushing toward him, whimpering louder and louder, fueled by the way Minho jerked up into his throat. He made him feel good, he was making him feel good. Jisungs nails pressed into Minho’s thighs, sure to leave marks behind in their wake.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum,” Minho groaned, pulling Jisung off of him by his hair. Lips swollen, eyes clouded over, brain shut off and dizzy, Jisung was positively wrecked. His tongue fell from his lips and his jaw hung open like his mouth awaited more, unable to do anything else but be used. “How do you know how to do this?”

Jisung gulped, throat tightening around nothing, a soft whine following. “Feels good,” he whispered.

“What?” Minho whispered, holding him by his hair.

Jisungs tongue licked around his lips. “I like the way you feel in my mouth.”

Jaw clenching, groan trapped in his chest, Minho released the boy's hair and tucked his hands beneath his arms, pulling him onto the couch, laying him flat on his back. Lowering himself on top of him, noses centimeters apart, Minho poked out his tongue and pressed his lips to Jisungs, sucking his bottom one between his teeth as his hands worked down his body, tugging off the boy’s pants without him even knowing.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Jisung,” he whispered, then moved down his body, nipping at his neck on the way down. Chest arching off the cushions, Jisung scrambled for his shoulders, but he kept moving, so he had to lace his fingers through his hair. “You smart, smart, boy,” Minho pressed kisses to his protruding hip bones, his hands grasping his waist, his eyes marveling at the difference in size. “Learning so quick,” his tongue dipped out, a thick stripe licked across the strip of skin below his navel, “So eager, too.” Minho looked up at him, meeting his eyes heavy with need. “You’re so good, Jisung, you know that?”

The boy couldn’t do anything but tighten his fingers in his brown locks, barely nodding his head in answer. Minho pressed kisses along the inside of his hips, Jisungs aching length waiting so patiently for him to take it.

“But, what would they say to you right now?” Minho grazed his tongue along the underside of his cock and Jisung trembled. “Their good, perfect, pristine boy, what would they tell you right now, hm? With me here between your legs,” Minho managed to shed him of his pants completely, “My cock just down your throat.” He pushed his knees backward and lowered his chin, his nose brushing against that sweet spot under his length. “So dirty,” he whispered, dipping his tongue out to tease his hole that Minho longed to ruin. A smile snuck onto Jisungs lips, one that made Minho perk a brow. “Yeah?”

“What,” Jisung whispered, unable to wipe his smirk away.

Minho positioned his shoulders just under his hips and nosed his length. “Han Jisung, that turns you on,” he said, lowering his tone. The boy shut his eyes and shook his head.

“No,” he sighed. “No, it doesn’t.”

Minho smirked. “Your smile says otherwise.” Sticking out his tongue, he teased his leaking tip, licking away all evidence of precum, swallowing it down, the taste sweet. Writhing where he laid, hands tugging harshly at Minho’s hair, the man grinned. “Jisung,” he clicked his tongue, tone disappointed. The boy looked down at him. “You filthy fuckin’ sinner,” Minho whispered just before he took him into his mouth, sinking down on him until his nose nudged his pelvis.

Jisung sprung forward, jaw agape, loud, guttural moans tumbling from his lips. Minho could take all of him, and then some. Sure, he didn’t compare in size, but still, the way he could fit him in his throat without a breath, without easing himself onto it, he had Jisung’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. His mouth, his tongue, so warm, so wet, his throat hot and tight as he swallowed him down.

It ended faster than it started, Jisung couldn’t help it.

No stamina.

He couldn’t even warn Minho, his words were mindless babbles of nothing comprehensible, just disgustingly delicious wails of ecstasy. He came in his mouth, down his throat, Minho groaning as he did. Pulling off of him with a pop, Jisung a limp, heaving heap on the couch, Minho sat up and grabbed his waist with one hand, the other pulling at his length, yanking Jisung close to him. He fisted himself, thrusted into his hand as he leaned over Jisung in his post-orgasmic daze. The boy, slow blinking, wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer, lips finding lips.

Groaning into the kiss, Minho whispered, “Such a good boy, Ji.” Tongues tangled, chests pressing together, whimpers falling from both of them, Minho’s brow furrowed and his teeth caught onto Jisung’s neck, pressing into the soft skin as he came all over Jisung’s stomach with a moan.

Catching his breath, littering his skin with soft kisses, Minho looked down at the boy smiling up at him, the tiniest thing one would miss if they weren’t centimeters from each other. 

With the way he gazed up at him, if Minho didn’t already know that Jisung had fallen, he’d know now.

The heat of the stove warmed Jisung where he sat on the wooden stool, half slumped over the kitchen counter. An elbow on the slab, his chin sat in his hand. Ann moved around the space like she haunted it, knowing every nook and cranny, what tiles to step on, and where everything lived. A tall steel pot sat on top of the stove she stood in front of, just beside Jisung. Dipping a spoon into the simmering, savory smelling soup she’d been working on for some time now, she held it out to the boy with a hand beneath it.

“What am I missing?” 

Jisung sipped from the ladle, his eyes widening at the perfect taste. “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head as he took the ladle from her to finish what was left. “It’s delicious.”

Her cheeks perked up in a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling at the same time. “You can tell me the truth, Jisung,” she said, her voice soft, “Unlike the others, you can be honest with me.” She turned back to her pot after taking the ladle from his outstretched hand, her smile deepening as his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“What are you talking about?” he asked within half a whisper. Ann stirred her soup, focused on the stove top. Sitting up, Jisung shoved his hands between his thighs, still wearing his pajamas. If the priests were here he’d have changed, he’d have washed up, made himself a bit more presentable than pajamas and bedhead. “This isn’t the first time you’ve said something like this.”

“It’s not?” she asked, lifting a silver brow.

“No,” Jisung said, missing her sarcasm that so easily posed as real. “The way that you talk about them,” he paused, and she gave him a glance, “Why?”

She took a breath. “The Jisung I know has only ever wanted one thing.”

The boy lowered his brows. “The job?”

Ann swallowed a smile. “Acceptance.” A needle struck his chest. He narrowed his eyes. “I have watched you try for years now, working yourself into the ground to impress, setting your own needs aside for the sake of theirs, setting incredible, unrealistic expectations because you believe it’s the only way they’ll allow you to stay, the only way you think you’ll be given the job.”

Jisung gulped. Blinking fervently, he looked down at his lap, his hands that were clammy between his knees. “Just want to show them I can handle what they give me.”

“And, you do,” she sang, moving toward a cabinet full of spices. “You do more than handle it, Jisung, don’t you understand that?”

He pursed his lips, his courage vanishing deep within him. “It’s still not enough. It doesn’t matter.”

“Now, you know that’s not true,” Ann said.

“It’s entirely true,” he snapped, snapping his head up to glare at her. The woman with the silver braid held his stare, her years of life keeping her strong on her feet. “You weren’t here the morning they left, but they said it themselves. I’m not ready, and at this point, I don’t know what else to do to prove that I am.”

Ann lowered her gaze to the stove. “Not much has been done this week.”

Jisung clenched his jaw. “Because they made me not want to do anything.” She kept quiet, stirring the soup, wandering about the kitchen. “I keep giving, and giving, and giving, and for what?”

“Are you looking for a reward?” Ann questioned, rhetorically of course, but it forced an answer from the boy.

“Yes,” he whispered through his teeth. She turned to face him completely, her soft wrinkled fingers smoothing over the apron tied to her front. Jisung met her eyes, her sharp, knowing eyes, and he melted in place. Shoulders slumping, back curving, he glanced at his lap, to his tight fists, and relaxed them. “What am I saying?”

Ann stepped forward, resting a hand to his shoulder. “Frustration is a very normal thing to feel, Jisung. I believe you deserve the position, though my word means nothing-”

“It means a lot,” Jisung whispered, and she smiled, her fingers patting his boney joint.

“Control the things you want to say,” she continued. “What you just told me, as if you were admitting your faults, or admitting your wants, your greed, you know it won’t fare well with the others. Christopher has told you that before.” Jisung cringed at the drop of his name, and Ann tilted her head. “The way they feel about your emotions getting the better of you, Jisung.”

“They don’t get it,” he whispered. “I’m starting to think they never have.”

Ann moved back to her cooking. “Why’s that?” Only her eyes shifted to watch the boy fidget where he sat, rolling his shoulders back, glancing about the kitchen while his heart began to thud between his lungs.

“The same reason why they won’t give me what I want,” he mumbled. The smallest smile graced her lips. “Minho.”

“Minho?” she asked.

“Yes?”

Jisungs head whipped toward the archway where his voice sounded. Dressed half the same, hair in slightly better shape than the boy on the stool, Minho wandered across the tile with something of a smile on his face. Glancing between Ann and Jisung, the woman focused on her work, the boy wide eyed and staring at him, Minho didn’t know where to go. Leaning against the kitchen table, folding his hands over his chest, he tipped his nose in the air.

“That smells incredible,” he said, morning grog still in his voice. Ann turned to him and thanked him with a smile.

Jisung, sitting up entirely straight, couldn’t take his eyes off of him. A white t-shirt clung to his upper half, accentuating every muscle beneath it, where Jisung had his lips last night. Cheeks flushing, he slid his hands over his thighs and gripped his knees. Lethal, everything about him, no matter if he was half clothed and panting on the living room couch or politely speaking with Ann in the morning daylight of the kitchen. He didn’t know where to look actually, any place he chose it made him warm. All over.

He woke up in his bed again, next to him. Tangled with him.

Fumbling up the stairs hand in hand that’s where they ended up. Beneath Minho’s blankets, clothes strewn to the floor, two sweaty bodies curled up with one another.

Nothing existed in that moment besides them. To Jisung, nothing much other than Minho himself mattered when they were like that.

And, when he walked into the kitchen apparently. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I just woke up,” Minho said, shrugging his shoulders. He flashed a crooked smile at Jisung and the boy blushed. “It’s strange not being on a schedule, this week feels like a vacation for us, too.”

“I’m sure it does,” Ann said quietly, and both boys looked at her. Minho snuck a glimpse of Jisung and wanted to reach out and shake the shock from his face, where he wasn’t giving anything away, Jisung told her everything.

Jisung grit his teeth together before he rolled his head backward and groaned aloud. “If I wanted to get everything done, I could do it in a day,” he grumbled, then shot Minho a look. The man’s fingers tightened on his biceps. “Besides, I don’t think they’re so deserving of it right now, do you?”

Minho perked a brow, a nervous laugh tumbling from his lips as he glanced between Ann and the boy. “I mean,” he breathed, “What are you saying?”

“That they’ll expect everything to be done by the time they come back,” Jisung held his chin high, “That I go above and beyond, every time, she just said it, I do more than enough.” Minho was quiet, waiting for more. Jisung whispered, “What happens if I don’t do a thing?”

“You don’t mean that,” Minho said through a laugh.

Jisung tipped his chin forward. “What if I do?”

“I’d like to know what you have to do with Jisung not getting promoted like he wants,” Ann said, turning to face Minho. Standing up straight, he dropped his arms to his sides, smoothed them over his thighs, then tucked them behind his back. Eyes wide, jaw clenched, his gaze shifted around the room. “Why does he say you’re the reason why they’re not giving him the position?” 

Jisung watched him search for the words to say to her, a man who could once conjure up a comeback in seconds, speechless. Either he couldn’t figure it out, or he didn’t want to say a thing. Beneath Ann’s stare, one that resembled Hyunjin’s, though it tended to be more caring, more concerned rather than just collecting information, Minho stumbled over words, finally forcing something from his lips.

“I- I- I didn’t know,” he shrugged. “I’m just trying to keep up with him, just trying to learn from him.” Ann’s expression relaxed. “I don’t want to stand in his way, if anything I want to help him achieve his goals.”

The woman hummed to herself. “I’m sure you do.” Minho glanced at Jisung, the boys sharing a look that made Jisung queasy. Ann turned back to the stove, busying herself, then she said, “They should’ve put you both in one room.”

Chills shot down Jisung’s spine. “What?” he sighed heavily, fingers tightening over his knees. Minho was frozen, wide eyed and glued in place. Jisung swore a smile longed to break out onto her face.

“Your bedroom door was open when I got here this morning,” she said with a quick look toward him. “Are you going to tell Christopher you’re sleeping in his bed? Or, will this be our little secret, these sleepovers?”

“Our secret,” Jisung said entirely too fast for Minho’s liking. The boy caught the slight narrowing of her eyes before she looked away, his own squinting with intrigue. “Ann,” he said just above a whisper, unable to withhold the trembling of his voice. She peered over. She was smiling. Gulping, Jisung whispered, “These?”

Her smile grew. Looking over her shoulder at Minho, then at Jisung, she said, “I’m an exquisite secret keeper.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jisung’s voice quieted, full of worry. Ann hummed to herself yet again, tending to the soup on the stovetop. “Who’s secrets?” She didn’t budge. “Ann,” Jisung slid off the stool and took to her side, latching onto her shoulder, “Please, you can’t do this, tell me.”

She shifted only her eyes. “Yours, Jisung. I always keep yours.” She watched as he looked toward Minho with brows flipped over and hands trembling on her shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on, then maybe I’ll have a better understanding as to why things are the way that they are.” Jisung snapped his neck to look back at her. “I’m not one of them, I am simply here to feed and take care of you, nothing you say to me reaches their ears. If there is something troubling you, if there is something you need to get off of your chest, Jisung, let me be the one to carry it for you.”

He pulled his hands off of her quickly, pressing them to his chest. Tears welling up in his eyes, he blinked fervently, took several steps backward, then bolted from the kitchen.

Christmas trees would tower beside the altar, wearing lights, silver garland, blood red poinsettias. The stained glass windows would be dressed in wreaths, pine wafting through the air, a sign and a comfort that the day was coming. The day would soon be here, be upon the church, the day Christ is born. Jisung would drape the sanctuary with love and care, adoration. No corner untouched, no space forgotten. It’s the most joyous time of year, the most wonderful, he’d take his time, spend every last minute decorating, polishing, cleaning, making it perfect. It had to be perfect.

Sitting in the last pew staring out into the empty church, not a soul in the room other than himself, he envisioned what it should look like, what it should start looking like. Christmas time. Set up started with him, this week, small things here and there like the wreaths, or the Christmas candles, or the ribbons and garland and bows. He and Minho had brought some of them out, uncovered them deep from the closets, but he couldn’t put them up.

The November sun was setting, flashes of lingering sunlight made the windows glow before it’d vanish into the grey void. 

Jisung could feel it today. 

Cold seeped through the bricks, the stone around him, caressed the bare skin of the back of his neck, an old friend. Vacant pews, vacant choir chancel, he danced his gaze about the walls, chills erupting over his skin. Tucking his hands into his chest, beneath his arms that crossed, he gulped.

These walls, these pillars that towered over him, that arched into the rounded painted ceiling, they judged him. Cold. The faces in the paintings, in the stained glass windows, the stories they told, that once warmed his heart and brought him nothing but hope and wonder, they judged him. He’d walk down this aisle with Christopher, a knowledge hungry, eager boy who now fears he knows too much.

These marble floors, chestnut pews, porcelain statues wearing tears on their cheeks for Jisung himself, anywhere he laid his eyes, the details spat at his feet. How dare he even walk through the doors, how dare he have the guts to sit down in His home, His palace of worship, knowing what he’s done, what he’s chosen to do.

Things he knew were wrong, actions that came with horrific consequences.

How is he to be forgiven after all this time? Jisung should’ve sat himself here at the first implication, after the first night, the first time.

Sinner.

He’d done it.

Filthy.

A word so pretty when it came from plush lips. It filled him with shame, his skin crawling, a place he longed to escape from. But, when it came from plush, delicate lips full of promise he’s never felt more alive.

A trap is what it was. It’s what he was, those plush, delicate, red hot lips that sent him into nirvana. A trap. A test. The test. A distraction. 

But, what of what he’s said?

He’s not here to withhold what he wants, he didn’t come here to keep him from his goals, his achievements, his dreams. For weeks, months now, he’s encouraged, supported, defended, and protected. He’s shared more with Jisung than anyone ever has, now the deepest parts of him, there wasn’t any way he’s been planted here to challenge him. 

Christopher wouldn’t let that happen. He’s said it, there isn’t anything left for Jisung to prove.

If Minho was, if what they say is the truth, then it means they’ve…

“Jisung?”

His voice ricocheted off the walls, a dagger to the boy's heart as the judgement amplified tenfold. Pillars, marble, cedarwood alike, they looked down upon them. It nauseated him.

He’d come in through the sacristy, pushing open the doors behind the altar, appearing upon the marble in a sweater and slacks. Jisung gulped, wrapping his arms around himself tighter. Carrying a folder in his hand, one thick and full of white paper, he stepped down to the floor with a pause. Fifty feet of empty air and pews stood between them.

They hadn’t spoken a word since the kitchen this morning, both taking to their work, or lack thereof, Minho holing himself up in the office, organizing documents, shredding what no longer was needed, keeping things fresh for the upcoming year. Jisung escaped into the sacristy after he’d gotten dressed. There wasn’t much to do aside from dusting the shelves again, or stacking the books differently again. After pointless hours of cleaning that did anything but clear his head, he ventured out into the sanctuary, wandered down the aisle and placed himself here, in the pew he’d spent ample time in.

Time he’s unsure was well spent or a waste.

Minho took tentative steps, inching toward the boy in the back pew, shoes clicking with every footstep. The folder swung at his side, his fingers clutching it like it were gold while the other lived in his pocket. His chin had lowered halfway down the aisle, eyes softened yet on alert, not knowing which version of the boy he’s grown to love he’d be approaching. Brown eyes clouded over with guilt, he could feel it the second he stepped into the church. 

An attempt had been made to catch him before he ran off earlier in the day, but Minho had been ignored. To think Ann was on their side, the way she spoke, somehow it's done more damage than it’s done good. She had reached into his head, Jisungs’, grabbed his thoughts, the ones that had been pushed aside, and she’d twisted them all up, mixed them together. The good had been muddled with what Minho had feared from the start.

Jisung should’ve done this the first time he kissed him.

Jisung should’ve pushed him away then, when it’d all begun, before either of them started to drown. 

He stopped at the end of the pew, Jisung sitting on the farther side. Just the way he clung to himself drove a knife through Minho’s heart. Defenceless. Awaiting an insufficient saviour, forced into the arms of one supposedly corrupt, damnable. 

“Jisung.” Voice soft, barely audible, Minho waited for an answer. The boy’s eyes were focused forward, fawning over the bare altar, mentally kicking himself for not doing a damn thing. Lifting the folder to his chest, holding it there with both of his hands, Minho took a deep breath, one shaky as he released it. “I thought I said don’t run from me.”

Jisung gulped, jaw clenched too tight. Only his eyes flickered over to Minho, closing as they met his discern. He whispered, “You’re not supposed to take things from the office.” He would have laughed if Jisung wasn’t having a panic attack. He would have laughed if what he took didn’t have any importance to either of them. 

Every file he found, he read through. Every folder with an inconspicuous label, he flipped through. Papers in the drawers neither of the boys were to go through, locked drawers, locked cabinets, Minho found his way in, too curious to breeze past them. Jisung did this often, once a month, straightening up the lives of the three men keeping him on a short leash, and not once had he thought to go through sealed drawers, or folders labeled for the priests only. Minho didn’t care much for consequence, he’d feign innocence and claim he’d only been doing his job, that he longed to be as thorough as Jisung.

Locked meant hidden.

Confidential meant secret.

What he found made him sick.

“Can I sit down?”

Jisung opened his eyes, tears seconds from falling, and he nodded. Minho didn’t come any closer, but he sat down on the pew, many feet separating them from one another. Out of arm's reach.

Wallowing in the silence, the only sound to be heard is that of Jisung forcing himself to take deep breaths and the wind howling past the windows outside in the chilling air, Minho drug his fingers along the edges of the folder he sat on his lap. Taking in the church around him, not once letting his eyes fall upon Jisung, he listened to his breaths, his fingers tracing in time with the sound, dragging faster as the boy's intake of air quickened.

Sobs were caught in his throat. The urge to cry had grown stronger the closer he’d gotten, and now that he sat beside him, too far away, yet not far enough, Jisung found himself entirely torn. Which way to go, where to end up, what to do, it was lost upon him. Vision going blurry, he cried aloud, the sound bouncing from wall to wall, taunting him.

“Ow.”

Pressing his hands to his cheeks, he wiped at his eyes, turning toward Minho who had slid closer, now beside him with the tip of his ring finger between his lips. Reaching out for him, blinded by tears, he clung to the sleeve of his sweater and pulled him in, burying his face in his shoulder. Minho wrapped the arm around his back, knitting his fingers in the boy's hair. 

His touch alone lessened the weight Jisung bore. His presence, the sound of his voice, his smell. The way he let him cry, sobbing against him, tears staining his sweater. Jisung grasped fistfuls of cotton, pressing into Minho as if he wasn’t the reason he’d been ripped in two.

It should be simple.

What a Goddamn shame it wasn’t.

The one thing he wants more than what he’s tried to achieve for two years of his life, and he can’t have either of them.

Sucking in a sharp breath, lifting his head from Minho’s shoulder, fists still clinging to him for clarity, he met his eyes and released a trembling sigh. Gaze dancing about his honey’d skin, cheeks tear stained, eyes glossy, Minho parted his lips to speak, to whisper to him, but Jisung tugged him by the sweater, planting his lips to his cheek. With a breath, he kissed him again, and again, his lips drawing lower down his jaw, beneath it.

Gripping him by the hair, curls wrapped around his strong fingers, Minho tugged him backward, swallowing the groan that almost came out of him. Jisung, lips slick, brows tipped up, tears streaming down his face, eyes pleading to let him carry on, how weak he felt in Minho’s grasp, it was entirely obscene.

“Ji,” Minho whispered with the slightest shake of his head.

The boy let out the smallest whine. “Minho,” he whispered back.

“Talk to me.” Minho’s lips thinned when Jisung shook his head. “Why not?”

Jisung cried, his voice broken. “You did this to me.”

Minho glanced at the folder he’d slipped onto the pew, eyes narrowing. In his moment of weakness, distracted, Jisung slipped from his grip and threw his arms around his shoulders, lips locking with his, using a hand to maneuver his chin in his favor. 

“Jisung,” he managed to mumble, but the boy wouldn’t stop, and Minho couldn’t help himself. Slipping right into delicious kisses, warm flicks of tongues over lips, nothing he would, or could say would end this.

In minutes Jisung climbed onto his lap, he was waiting for it, he knew it was coming. Knees spread over his lap, Jisung laid his chest against Minho’s, his weight on him entirely, like he was handing himself over, surrendering himself to the man beneath him. Hands taken to his waist, Minho drug them up his side and around his back, pressing him even closer. 

This was different. Every smack of their lips grew hungrier as the minutes passed, neither one taking their time to savor the other, each kiss persistent, feverish, like they had something to prove. Shameless, not one worried about where they sat, when their tongues met, noses squished together, Jisung smiled.

The world switched off.

Nothing else mattered.

Taking his hands to his jaw, Jisung caught his bottom lip with his teeth and tugged on it, the man groaning aloud, the beautiful sound echoing up to the angels on the ceiling. Tongue lobbing out to drag over the fullness, soothing the bite, Jisung answered his groan with a whine, grinding his hips down into Minho’s lap, smiling over his lips again as he felt his hands slide down to his waist.

“I can’t believe you,” Minho whispered, trailing his lips down Jisung’s jaw, down the side of his neck, taking the skin between his teeth before sucking at it harshly. The boy tipped his chin back, the softest moan sounding from his smiling lips. “This is insanity, Jisung.”

He laughed, and Minho half gasped up at him before he was gifting with another mouthful of his tongue. Hips bucking up into Jisung as the boy wrapped a hand around the base of his neck, he cursed against his lips, something Jisung couldn’t make out. He didn’t care, Minho was hard already. Before him.

“You were right, you know.” Jisung slowed his lips, looking at him through hooded eyes. Minho questioned him with the furrow of his brow. “This does turn me on,” he whispered, glancing around the church. Reaching for one of Minho’s hands on his waist, Jisung slipped it between his legs, then let him go and palmed over Minho’s length. “But, it gets you first.”

“Look at where you are,” Minho clenched his jaw. “Look at what you’re doing.” His tone only seemed to spur Jisung on, the boy's smirk grew, his body writhing, his hands grabbing. “I have every good intention to stop you right now.”

Jisung pressed an open mouthed kiss to his lips, lingering for longer than before, slower, humming against him, rolling his hips into the palm of his hand, aching for more. “But you won’t.”

“No,” Minho whispered, closing his hand over the boy’s cock, eliciting a whimper from his throat. “I won’t, ‘cause just like you Jisung…”

The boy grinned something wicked, hips bucking into Minho’s hand, the friction not enough. Kissing him fast, rough, he took a hand between their bodies and pressed his thumb to Minho’s forehead. “In the name of the Father,” he whispered. Minho sighed, his eyes screwed shut, lips calling Jisung’s back toward them. “And of the Son,” Jisung spoke between slow, wet kisses, his hand pressing to Minho’s heart before it groped each shoulder, “And of the Holy Spirit.”

“Ji,” Minho could barely make a sound, he couldn’t move. Jisung’s hand took beneath his jaw, tipping it upward, forcing him to look him in the eye.

He smiled, one gentle, and he whispered, “Bless me, Father,” he paused, Minho a trembling mess under him, “For I have sinned.” 

“God,” Minho groaned, eyes nearly rolling back as they fluttered shut.

Jisung poked his tongue out from between his lips and drug it over his neck, not once, not twice, but three times, savoring every second, every twitch of Minho’s hips, every whine he tried to swallow. “‘Cause just like me, Minho,” he whispered in his ear, his teeth catching the soft skin of his lobe, pulling before he wrapped his lips around it. “Finish it. Tell me. What am I? What are you?”

Minho grabbed at his waist, fingers digging into the bone, withholding his movement. Keeping him still, his jaw tightened and he gulped, looking directly at him. Jisung waited with baited breath, eyes flickering from his torn lips to his dazed stare. Within a whisper, Minho smirked, “Filthy fuckin’ sinners.”

From pretty lips.

Jisung’s belly caved. Biting down on his lip with a gravely groan, he couldn’t help the way his hips bucked forward. “No, no, no,” he whispered hurriedly, hands grabbing onto Minho’s biceps, fingers digging into the muscle. 

“Don’t you dare,” Minho grumbled, and Jisung’s eyes shot open wide. A hand latched onto his jaw, Minho bringing him closer, their noses brushing. “What do you want, Jisung?”

“You,” he whispered, and Minho rolled his eyes. Jisung quivered.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Minho grit his teeth, speaking through them. “What do you want, Jisung.”

The boy parted his lips, but nothing came out. A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “You.” Leaning into him, Minho prepared to catch a kiss, but Jisung’s lips ghosted him. Grabbing his wrists, pulling him off of him, Jisung slid off his lap and hurried out of the pew.

Minho sat forward, one hand on the back of the pew in front of him, the other on his lap. “What are you doing?” Holding in a laugh, he watched as Jisung tucked his hands behind his back and stepped into the pew before him. Sitting down on the wood, he rested his chin on top of Minho’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Just as his other hand reached for his hair, Jisung sprung up from his seat and rushed toward the end of the pew, stepping out into the center aisle of the church.

Dainty fingers dragging over the carved chestnut wood, Jisung looked back at him, fluttering lashes and a smile so innocent, all Minho could do was roll his eyes for the umpteenth time. “You want me, but you’re running from me.” Standing to his feet, Jisung’s eyes lit up. Minho took his time, strolling toward the end of the pew, eyes fixed on Jisung toying with the wood, waiting for him to bolt yet again. Shoes hitting the tile every few seconds, Minho reached the end, thinking he’d gotten him, but Jisung was one step ahead. As Minho attempted to swing an arm around the boy, Jisung darted away, to the other side of the aisle, many steps away.

“I really thought you’d be good at this,” Jisung teased. “Honest.”

“You little bas-”

“Don’t curse,” Jisung cut him clean off, lifting a finger. He took a few steps toward the front of the church, and Minho followed suit.

“That’s rich,” he furrowed his brows. “Don’t curse.”

They both took a few more steps, completely in sync on opposite sides of the aisle.

Jisung pouted. “I mean it.”

Minho smirked.

Three more steps.

“I don’t understand you,” he breathed. “I don’t think I ever will.”

Jisung broke out into a grin, lowering his chin. “Try,” he whispered, and they took off. Jisung bolted straight toward the altar, Minho on his heels.

Leaping up the stairs, giggles falling from his lips, Jisung grabbed onto the marble and swung himself around the other side, facing the church. Minho posted himself across from Jisung, both hands planted to the cool stone, arms stretched out to either end. 

Like the day they’d met.

Face to face in a church Jisung had made a home out of.

He’d taught it to him, top to bottom, every room, every detail, every corner. The secrets these walls held, that the house kept, things he’s never told anyone else, he’d given it to him. To think that very first day Jisung loathed the very idea of sharing anything with him.

Now he can’t get enough.

Minho tipped toward his left, making Jisung spring the other way. Rounding the altar, light on his feet while Jisung scrambled, knees weak with giggles, Minho paused, and waited. A smile played at his lips, but something sounded off in his brain, coursing through his veins, his skin buzzing. Jisung’s eyes, wide, bright, pure, had Minho digging his nails into his palms, wishing they were Jisung’s thighs, Jisungs hips, Jisungs anything. 

He knew what he wanted, what he was asking for, what this little dance was all a part of. It only needed to fall into place, and Minho knew exactly where they’d fit. Jisung may have good foreplay game, but the night they spent on the couch told Minho plenty.

The boy needed someone to pin him down. 

He pined after that type of submission, another sick way of him fulfilling his need to please, his need to be perfect. 

The longer they spun around the altar, the longer Minho chased after him, the more likely he’d be to give that to him. 

“Ji,” Minho said, tone steady yet a bit derogatory. “What happens when I catch you?”

Jisung brought his lips between his teeth, his laugh vibrating along the stained glass windows now casting the boys in shadows, more darkness in the room than there was light. Minho tried to pull a fast one on him, hurrying around a corner while he laughed, but Jisung scrambled away, nearly bumping into the corner of the marble.

He caught his breath, sliding a hand over his heart to ease its pounding, and said, “You tell me.” They met smiles, but Minho’s fell after Jisung whispered, “I don’t know anything.”

His fingers pressed into the altar, eyes narrowing in the dimly lit space. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said. “And you’re good at it, too.”

Jisung raised a brow. “Am I?” He smirked.

Minho rolled his eyes. “There, your ego is fed,” he grumbled, curling his lip. “Now, come here.” 

In two steps Minho had been able to snatch Jisung around the waist, lifting him off of his feet. With the boy shouting in fits of laughter, Minho placed him down behind the altar and clamped his hands on the marble, Jisung caged between his arms. Jisung sucked down deep breaths, tried to control his smile, his giggles. He wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck and tugged him closer, the man stepping into him, filling the space. Nearly bending him in half over the marble, Minho poked out his tongue and kissed him, pushing his hips forward to pin Jisung to the altar.

“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” he whispered.

Jisung pecked his lips, his eyes closed, and shook his head. “I don’t.” He spoke just as quietly as Minho. Opening his eyes, he looked up at him, his brows settling above his gaze. “But, I want it. You, I want you.”

Brushing his nose over his, Minho blinked, thinking to himself, every possibility, every scenario flashing through his mind, not one of them ever ending up like this. In the church, on the altar, dry humping one another, cat and mouse, tongues pressed to cheeks… They should be in bed. The couch, somewhere in the house, anywhere but here. His resentment grew with everything they did, everything they shared, when the fuzziness no longer clouded his mind, when he had clarity, whether it be tomorrow morning, or right after, he’d regret it.

Or, would he?

Reality hit, and in mere moments he wanted more.

Clarity washed over him and he ran back, for more.

The things Minho felt, the things he knew Jisung felt, maybe they outweighed everything else. Maybe what lived within them both was stronger than the stone walls that stood around them. 

“I want you, too,” Minho whispered, pressing his lips to his cheek. Jisungs hands slid up into his hair, giving it the gentlest pull.

From running in circles and bickering with one another to quiet whispers and soft touches, the energy flipped entirely. Half aware of what he was asking for, what they were discussing, a nervousness awoke within Jisung, something telling him to stop. Something telling him don’t do this. Threading his fingers through Minho’s hair, looking up at him, his tiny smile seemed to silence it all.

One of his hands brushed over Jisung’s cheek, his thumb dragging along his cheekbone, teasing his bottom lashes. “We don’t have to have sex, Ji, I can read your mind, we-”

“No,” Jisung whispered, bouncing his knees. “Please, I want to, I do, I really do.”

Huffing a laugh, Minho kissed the tip of his nose. “It’s a lot of big steps in two days, that’s all.” Tilting his chin to the side, he brushed their lips together. “Let me touch you,” he whispered, “Then we can talk about-”

“Only if you’re inside me,” Jisung said quickly, gulping, tightening his jaw.

Minho blinked, utter shock on his face. “What?”

Jisung pursed his lips, then nodded once. “You can only touch me… if you’re inside me.” 

Eyes closing, Minho took a long, deep breath. “Jisung, you amaze me.” He looked down at him, the boy having no clue what he was on about. “Thank god you’re here, ‘cause if you weren’t…”

The corners of his lips perked up. “Thank God you’re here.” Stringing his hands through his hair, roughing it up, he whispered, “I’m not doing this, ever, unless it’s with you.”

“That’s very limiting.” Minho tipped the boy's chin upward, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. Jisung giggled.

“I don’t care.”

Minho sighed. “If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times. The death of me, Jisung, you will be.” His smile and blushing cheeks lured Minho in, lips locking, bodies moving. “You have to listen to me, okay?” Minho’s voice was hushed, every push of his lips against Jisung’s silencing what longed to fall from his lips. “You might not like it this time, it might take more, another time.”

Jisung slipped his tongue over Minho’s bottom lip. “I can handle that,” he nodded, “I can, I promise.”

His whisper made Minho’s knees buckle. “Just listen to me,” Minho caught his eye, sure that he was paying attention to him, “Focus on me.”

Jisung licked his lips. “Not that hard.”

Smirking, Minho rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Jisung breathed. 

Dragging his hands down his chest, Minho kissed him, every bit of movement taken with care, softly, knowing that anything abrupt or sudden would trigger his fight or flight, and though Minho knew how important that piece was, he needed him to enjoy this. Pulling at the buttons on his pants, his kisses were chaste, but keeping Jisung afloat. Where his hands worked, imploring heavier feelings, his lips had to slow. Balance.

“I’m gonna touch you,” he whispered, following up quickly with, “To relax you,” before Jisung dejected. The boy nodded, trying to keep his lips locked with Minho’s. They dropped to his jaw when he spoke, Jisung needing to have something occupy his mouth when it wasn’t busy. “Stay with me, okay? Can you do that?” Jisung nodded, and Minho hummed. “Use your words, Jisung.”

“Yes,” the boy sighed, his teeth grazing the skin of Minho’s neck.

“Look at me,” Minho directed, and he listened, head popping up wearing those big, innocent eyes. “Christ,” he sneered. “You have to do something for me.”

“Of course.” He nodded.

Minho settled his jaw, licked his lips, then whispered, “Don’t cum.” Jisung’s expression faltered, Minho knew it too, he was at such a disadvantage. Taking his lips to his ear, tongue grazing his lobe gently, he whispered, “You cum when I’m inside you.” Jisung writhed beneath him, and Minho laughed. “You can do it, baby, I know you can.”

“Then you can’t talk,” Jisung whined. “Did you just call me baby?”

Minho studied his face. “I did, did you hate it?”

Jisung laughed, the tension on his face washing away. “No, I liked it.”

“Alright then,” Minho smirked, kissing his forehead. “Stay with me, baby.”

Kissing him deep, and slow, making nothing but a mess between their lips, Minho worked him out of his pants, instructing him to kick them off his feet. Slipping a hand between his legs, wrapping his fingers around his length, Jisung jerked at the touch, then sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the kiss rather than Minho playing with him. This wouldn’t be over in seconds, he wouldn’t disappoint him.

Telling himself it felt good, he stayed on the outside of it, though the euphoria tried to yank him under. He could do this. He wanted it to last, there had to be more.

Minho brought his other hand between them, pressing it to Jisung’s throat for a few seconds to make him whine before he slipped two fingers between their lips, his tongue sliding out to wet them. Jisung see, Jisung do. When Minho pulled them away, his hand disappeared behind Jisung, but their tongues stayed tangled together. With a breath Minho engulfed Jisung with a kiss as he pressed a finger to his entrance, feeling the boy suck in a staggered breath, every muscle on his body tensing.

“Relax,” Minho whispered, resting his forehead over Jisung’s. The boy's eyes were screwed shut, his brows twisted above them. “Jisung, breath.” Doing as he was told, he released his breath hurriedly, then blinked open his eyes. “Hi,” Minho smiled, and before Jisung could say anything his finger slipped inside of him.

Jisung didn’t think it was possible for his dick to grow harder but it did. “This will make… This will…” He was panting already, his jaw unable to close, hanging open for Minho’s tongue to explore.

“What did I say?” Minho cooed, taking his hand off of his length, reaching for his jaw.

Jisung fluttered his eyes shut. “Don’t cu- h’oh my God.”

Minho smiled. Two fingers and he wasn’t begging him to stop, he was moaning. “You okay, baby?”

Short, staggered breath answered him. “Y-yeah, yes, I am.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Minho whispered. “How’s it feel?”

 “Getting better,” Jisung sighed, his breath evening out with time. “It does feel good, it’s just… at first…”

Minho danced his fingers along his jaw, soothing him. “I told you,” he nodded. “It takes time, you overachiever. You can’t just jump in.”

Jisung opened his eyes and Minho swore he could bust on the spot. Already so fucked out, the daze in his eyes grew the longer he looked at him. “Move,” he whispered.

“I will,” Minho assured him with a little nod. “Keep telling me how it feels, okay?”

“Okay,” Jisung whispered, and the moment Minho scissored open his fingers, Jisung nearly dead weighted in his hold. “Minho,” he whined, eyes screwed shut, head tipping back. 

“I know, I know,” he sang, littering his jaw with soft kisses. “Doing so good, doing so, so good.” 

Jisung whimpered, he whined, everything that fell from his lips echoed within the church, ringing in Minho’s ears, every sound, every detail, amplified. “Want you,” Jisung mumbled, clawing at his hair, tugging the strands so hard Minho prayed away his own release. “Want you, Min.”

His fingers moved in a circle and Jisung thrust against his thigh, seeking friction from anywhere. “Have to play with you a while longer, Ji,” he whispered, pressing kisses to his curls. The boy threw his head forward, his face buried in his chest. Working him open, his fingers wouldn’t be enough, that was something they both knew. Jisung’s had Minho down his throat, two fingers didn’t compare. 

Glancing around the space, the altar, Minho’s eye caught the ambry, a wooden cabinet on the wall beside the towering architecture and statues behind them. He’s seen Christopher go in there a few times, Hyunjin used them more, and Jisung’s polished the glass bottles, shown him how. Three round bottles, chrismals, the holy oils blessed by the three priests themselves on a weekly basis.

A groan caught in his chest as Jisung pressed a hand to his length, a happy breath escaping the boy.

How fitting, the week they aren’t here.

Taking his fingers from the boy, he lifted his chin and kissed him, then spun him around. “Ji, you stay right here,” he said, pressing a kiss to both of his shoulders. Parting from him, the air going cold, Jisung pressed his fingers into the marble in front of him, his gaze looking out upon the empty pews, the arcing ceiling, the angels and saints painted onto it gazing back down at him. Standing here alone, tears welled up in his eyes. Without him, it didn’t feel right.

“Minho?” He’d begun to turn, but Minho wrapped around him, lips taking to his neck as he hurried his pants off of himself.

“I”m right here,” he whispered, kicking the clothes away.

Jisung took a breath and leaned his head back, resting it on his shoulder. Minho’s lips grazed his cheek, then his fingers slipped back into him, this time with more ease than before. Further, deeper, Jisung could cum, he wanted to cum, but he couldn’t, he was told not to.

“Jisung,” Minho said, his chest pressing into his back. Eyes half closed, the boy looked at him. “Hi baby, god, you look so pretty.” Jisung smiled. “You still want me?”

“Please,” he whispered.

Minho smiled down at him. “Take a deep breath.” 

He listened, and as he exhaled, Minho slid into him.

Lurching forward, hands slapping to the marble, nails clawing at the stone, Jisung cried aloud, eyebrows screwing in pleasure. Minho took his time, inch by inch, one hand gripping the boy's hip, the other smoothing over his back as it arched for him. His so good, so, so good, paired with the way Jisung whined his name like a prayer, neither of them were certain they’d last for very long.

“Ji… Ji?” Minho managed to whisper, breathless, completely sheathed within him.

White knuckling the marble, Jisung, with his lip squished between his teeth, shot him a look over his shoulder. “Hurry,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes.

Minho wrapped his arms around the front of his chest and laid over him. “Does it hurt, what’s the matter?”

“No,” Jisung gasped. “I’m gonna cum.”

Minho released a shaky laugh. “Me too,” he whispered. “You feel so good.”

“You feel so good,” Jisung moaned, laying his head backward on his shoulder again. “Can you move?”

“Is it getting better?” Minho kissed his cheek.

Breathing through his lips, Jisung looked at him and smiled. “Yes.”

Minho pulled out just to push back in, Jisung writhing against him. Hands pressed to his chest, Minho caged him against the altar, pushing him into the marble with every thrust of his hips. Little by little he moved faster, the louder Jisung got, the faster he’d move. Within minutes he snapped into him, the obscene smacking of skin on skin mixed with the sounds that escaped them both, filling the holy air, tainting it. Jisung, with one hand thrown back in Minho’s hair, the other clawing at the altar, Minho both hands on Jisung’s waist, nails digging into his skin while his lips sucked harshly at his neck, both were blind, it’d take a force to stop them.

It wasn’t until Minho felt his own legs shake that he snaked a hand down Jisung’s front, wrapping his fingers around him, eliciting a whine that shot straight through him, his hips stuttering. Oil on his hands already, he pulled at him, tightening his grip with every pass.

“Min, Min, Min,” Jisung panted, his hands reaching back to hold onto him.

“What?” Minho smirked, jaw slack. “You gonna cum?”

Jisung whimpered, his body weight falling backward onto him. “God, yes, g-gonna.”

Minho nibbled his earlobe. “Before I fill you up? Come on, Ji.” His body tensed, his belly rippled. Each sound grew quieter, came out quicker, pleads, begs for more, like he encouraged it to come out himself. “You’re doing so good, you listen so well. I think if you cum it’ll make me,” Minho kissed his cheek, “So pretty when you cum, show me, baby.”

His body burned, every muscle worked for it. Minho’s touch, how he talked him through it, how full he felt, how full he was. Hands thrown back, grabbing God knows what, his fingers tightened, and that feeling snapped. What once was red hot had now turned pure white, stars in his eyes, skin ablaze, heart like a rock in his chest. Coming to, vision speckling back to the dimly lit church, the haze he was in, the man he clung onto for dear life, he was clinging to Jisung. The boy, heaving breaths in time with Minho, was pressed to the marble, Minho’s hands relaxing off of his frame as minutes ticked by.

“Look at me,” Minho whispered in the quiet, in the calming of hearts beating. Jisung tipped his head back, met with the most gorgeous view, messy hair, sleepy eyes, puffy lips, torn up skin. He was still inside him. Minho kissed him gently, nothing like what had been shared before, and upon pulling away, he mumbled the quietest, “You’ve ruined me.”

The tip of his finger drew up and down his spine, grazing every notch that protruded through his golden complexion. Chin in his tousled waves, messier than they’ve ever been, Minho blinked in the hazy light of his bedroom, his breath careful and quiet. Jisung laid over him where he sat against the headboard, the boy's cheek over his heart, half awake, listening to the steady beat between his lungs, rising with his chest after every exhale.

Sheets wrapped around them, some pillows thrown askew, both in briefs and nothing else, they’d spent the night here. Redressing one another in the church, upon the altar, lips brushing over thighs, the delicate touch of hands on waists, calculated kisses with the adjusting of buttons. Barely a word had been shared, not a sound aside from a breathy laugh, or a whisper of reassurance. Their eyes spoke for them, Jisung reciprocating, repeating Minho’s words back to him without the need to actually say them.

Minho could’ve carried him inside, the boy a baby deer on wobbling legs, holding onto his hand tight, for security, not letting him get one step ahead of him, sticking to his side. Tiny kisses stolen as they tiptoed back into the house, from lips, on cheeks, pressed to clothed shoulders, they took their time up the stairs, neither one able to keep their eyes off the other for longer than mere seconds. Undressing in the dark, unbuttoning each other, hands dancing over bare skin, lips dying for a taste, they fell to Minho’s bed leaving their clothes a mess on the floor, half strung over Christopher’s bed.

Spent, physically, emotionally, Jisung had no more to give, his kisses slower than ever, subdued. Minho wouldn’t let him take it further, even if he did try. Overachiever. On his lap, skin on skin, he dozed off, the both of them did, in and out of sleep for a few hours, holding onto one another, not wanting to let go. Even now as he stirred awake, Jisung’s arms tightened around his back.  Lifting his head, his tired eyes meeting Minho’s dark lashes, his face softened with a smile. 

“Hi,” Minho whispered. 

Jisung’s eyes flickered to his lips. “Hi.”

Hands smoothing over his back, fingers pressing into the muscles he knew were sore though Jisung wouldn’t mention it, Minho sighed. “How are you?”

The boy adjusted on his front, trying to sit up taller to reach his lips. “Good,” he breathed, able to press his lips to his chin. “How are you?”

Minho whispered through rushed air, “Great.” Sliding his hands up his sides, taking them around and under his jaw, he held up his head, tipping his chin backward. Gaze dancing around his expression, fawning over him, searching for anything that may give away how he really felt, Minho leaned forward and kissed him properly. “Are you really?”

Jisung gave him a lazy smile, limp in his hands, letting him move him how he wanted. “Yes,” he whispered. “I know what you’re thinking about.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about,” Minho answered, speaking just as quietly.

“You’re worried.”

Minho’s eyes widened for all of two seconds. “I am,” he huffed, brows twisting together. “Talk to me, tell me, say anything.” He brushed his thumbs over his round cheeks.

Jisung’s lips pursed in a tiny smirk. “I’m okay,” he tried to nod, “I promise.” Minho could do nothing but blink. Laughing, Jisung said, “You were right. The feeling, you were right. But,” he paused, his gaze grew darker, and yet somehow warmer, “To do that, to be there, with you… I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I don’t want it any other way. If I can’t have you…”

“Then, what?” Minho whispered.

Jisung took him in, then shrugged, a soft laugh escaping him. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “You make me feel…”

“Whole,” they both said at once, a whisper shared.

Jisung furrowed his brows. Minho maintained his composure.

He asked, hushed, “Like Felix?”

His stomach dropped to his knees, Jisung shoving his hands between them, palms to his bare chest, pushing himself away. “What?” Minho didn’t move, he let his hands fall to the boy's lap. “What are you talking about?”

Minho swallowed hard. He took a deep breath before he said, “I’m just asking.” 

Jisungs entire being flooded with unease. “How do you know that name?”

Reaching for one of his hands, Minho flinched as Jisung shied away. Blinking possibly a thousand times, he looked at him and shrugged with a shake of his head. “You mentioned him at some point.”

“When?” Jisung narrowed his eyes.

Minho stuttered. “I- I don’t remember exactly when, Ji, I just-”

“Why bring it up right now?” Jisung spoke in a tone Minho had never heard come out of him before, not even in his past daily outbursts. “While I try to tell you I feel for you?”

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispered. “I just want to understand.” He sat forward, moving Jisung with him on his lap. The boy allowed him to rest a hand on his cheek. “Jisung, I feel for you, too. I know what this feeling is, what it’s called, I’ve felt it once before. I understand it, and I want to understand you.” He gulped. “I want you to understand you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jisung asked, unmoving.

Minho started to smile. “There you go,” he half laughed, “Let’s talk about it.” He slid his hand up through his waves, pushing them away from his forehead. “You’re so beautiful, Han Jisung.” They shared the smallest smile. “If you don’t want to tell me about him you don’t have to.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Jisung whispered, locked on his gaze. “Felix was a friend from Preso, but I… I shut him out.” Minho lowered his brow the slightest, telling him to go on. “We were studying together one night, and…” Jisung squinted his eyes, the memory fuzzy now that it’s been packed away so tightly all this time, “We fell asleep. When we woke up, he was in my arms… Laying on my chest.” Minho nodded, taking his fingers back to his cheek, smoothing them over his skin. “I think he was going to kiss me.” Jisung looked at him, surprised his words didn’t elicit a reaction. “I ran from him.”

“Why?”

Sorrow filled Jisungs eyes, telling Minho exactly why. “It’s wrong, it’s- I mean, it was wrong. But, now, I don’t… Minho.” Falling forward into his chest, he caught him, wrapped his arms around his back and relaxed back onto the bed.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, dancing his hands from his shoulder blades to his hips. “This stuff is hard.”

Jisung fought back tears. Hands grabbing onto Minho somehow, his arms, or his waist, he buried his face in his neck and took a few deep breaths.

Felix.

The name spoken alone filled his gut with stone, a nauseating weight he thought he’d gotten rid of. The guilt, the shame. A name he hadn’t said in two years, the last time falling over the priest's ears, through his sobs, his heavy cries and heaves of breath.

The last time falling over the priest's ears. Hyunjin’s.

By his side, in the church, in a pew.

Jisung told Hyunjin about Felix.

Springing up, eyes wide, tears brimming, he released a shaking breath.

“Ji?” Minho stilled his hands, bringing them back to his cheeks. He wore concern over his face, but beneath it, knowledge.

“I just remembered I told that story before,” the boy gasped. Minho didn’t move, like before, he was a rock. “Hyunjin. When I started here, when I had my sessions with him, my meetings, I told him.” Panic set in and finally Minho moved, pulling him close, sliding a hand up into his hair, the other around his tiny, trembling frame.

“That’s okay,” he said quietly. “You’re still here, they still care about you, you were… honest with them.”

Sitting in a pew, head in his hands, tears streaming down his face, wetting the collar of his shirt. Beside Hyunjin, the man in black, reciting the story, nearly word for word.

He couldn’t remember what Hyunjin said to him.

There wasn’t a memory he could recall where he heard what the priest told him. How he reacted, how he handled it, to Jisung it was hazy. A memory still buried too far deep within him.

Looking at Minho, thinking of where he came from, what he’s been through, Jisung whispered, “They took you in.”

Minho loosened his jaw. “They did.”

His eyes softened as he sat up. Wiping stray tears that snuck down his cheeks, he said, “If I shared that story with them,” he began, and Minho straightened his brow, “And they know where you’ve come from, what you’ve come from, then… They care.”

“Jisung,” Minho sighed.

“The judgement we feel, that I feel, comes from my own self,” the boy continued. “I’m judging myself,” he laughed, “And, maybe I don’t have to.”

“Ji?” Minho thinned his lips.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

Jisung froze, an unsuspecting smile still on his lips. “What?” Another laugh came out of him.

Minho shook his head, slowly, and weight was thrust upon Jisungs heart. “They don’t know about me, I didn’t tell them anything,” he said. “They tried, Hyunjin really tried, but I wouldn’t let him hear it. The church I’ve come from, they covered it all up, they weren’t going to let anyone know what I’d been doing with their priest, they’d condemn him, they’d have to get rid of me, and not just in sending me away. I’d be in danger, and in saying anything, sharing any of it with anyone, I’d be putting others in danger.”

Jisung watched him, lips parted. “What do they know?”

“That the church was close to closing,” he said. “That the priests and people that worked there weren’t the best, and that there was no room for me there.”

“Show some humility. Minho came from a place that couldn’t shelter him, he needs our support. Welcome him, show him around. You remember your first day here, don’t you?”

Christopher told him.

“You lied to them,” Jisung said, and Minho pursed his lips. “I trust them, and you lied to them.”

“Do you?” Minho asked.

Jisung took a breath. “I mean, I did.” He waited with patience, Minho did. “You’ve shown me a lot, you’ve taught me so much. And not just… here,” they shared a soft laugh as Jisung gestured to the bed beneath them. Meeting gazes that both knew and felt too much, they settled their lips into smiles. “I’m not just worthy when I’m of service to others.”

Minho’s smile grew. “No,” he agreed.

Jisung pressed his chest to his, their lips centimeters apart. “I’m always worthy.”

“You are,” he whispered. “Do they make you feel that way?”

“Christopher does,” Jisung said. “Sometimes. But, that’s my own self getting in my own way again. Feeling like I’m not good enough for him. Like, he sees what’s wrong with me, and even if I know he’s not judging me for it, even if he tells me he’s not judging me for it, I can’t help but feel like he is.”

“You’ve told him a lot,” Minho breathed.

Jisung shrugged. “Not about Felix,” he whispered. “I only shared that with Hyunjin… I think. After he and I spoke about it… I don’t remember ever bringing it up again.”

“You ran from Felix like you try to run from me,” Minho said, tone hushed, like he was afraid to say the words aloud. 

Jisung blinked. “That day I did.”

Minho tilted his head, running his hand through Jisungs hair. “What else do you remember about him?”

Jisung dropped his eyes to his lap, Minho’s lap. “He was the first one to see me,” he whispered, looking up to Minho through his lashes. “He was a friend. He traveled far to go to Preso, further than me.”

“Why’d he go to the Academy?”

Glancing away, not letting the cold, dark hand of his subconscious pull him under, he tipped the top of the box open and searched. Felix, a boy with blonde hair and golden brown eyes, the thickest Australian accent, and a contagious laugh, Jisung couldn’t remember much else about him. Anything and everything he tried to think up, it made his skin crawl. Even the smaller details, like how his voice sounded, the vibrations he’d feel in his heart, Jisung wanted to positively gag.

“I don’t know,” he breathed, defeated. “Can’t remember.”

Minho took his hand to his chin and tipped it up. “Can’t, or don’t want to?”

Jisung sucked in a breath, one Minho paid attention to. “I’d like to, now that we’re talking about him, he and I were close. The first friend I had, one that I could trust.” A lump lodged in his throat. “The only… Only friend, I suppose.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “He couldn’t trust me.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head as if to shake the memory, but it latched onto him. “No, I couldn’t trust him, what am I saying, he wanted to go against everything we were learning, everything our teachers had taught us. I couldn’t trust him. I couldn’t trust Felix.” Minho furrowed his brow. “I stopped being his friend for a reason, to protect myself.”

Silence surrounded them, Jisungs words hanging in the air like a hand grenade, his newfound reality seconds away from pulling the pin. 

Minho’s lips pulled into a frown. “Before that happened, can you remember how you felt about him?”

The boy shrugged, and Minho laid his head back against the headboard. “He was a friend.”

Brushing his thumb over his bottom lip, toying with it, Minho whispered, “And what am I?” Jisung flickered his eyes over his face, the stoic angel, chiseled and perfect, a scramble of features that once angered him, frustrated him, drove him to hate, now one he fawns over in adoration. Minho would have missed how his eyes softened if he wasn’t focused on him, only him. “I am not a friend, Jisung. Friends don’t do this. Act like this.” Minho dropped his hand, smoothing them both over Jisung’s bare thighs. “I like you. I don’t want to be your friend.”

Every muscle in his body tensed. Through his teeth, he whispered, “What do you want to be?”

“More,” Minho said in an instant. Jisung gulped. “I need to tell you something before you say anything-”

Jisung climbed off of his lap, swinging both legs over the edge of the bed, slipping off of it. “That’s…” He searched the floor for his clothes.

“Jisung, wait.” Minho clobbered off the bed after him, pulling on his own clothes. “I need-”

Holding up a hand, sliding his shirt over his head, he gave Minho a look. “I need a second,” he said. “I just shared something with you that’s hurt me, and you want to talk about yourself.”

Jaw falling open, words caught in his throat, Minho threw his arms out beside him. Watching Jisung button his pants, straighten his shirt, and start for the door, he lunged forward, grabbing onto his shoulder, yanking him backward. “Jisung, you’re confused, please, I was only trying to-”

“To what?” Jisung spoke within a whisper. “To do what Felix did to me?”

“What?”

Pushing his hand off of his shoulder, Jisung turned, leaving Minho behind a half opened door.

Felix, his friend.

Jisung wandered outside over the cobblestone, having washed up and spent some time in his bedroom alone, deciding he needed to do something before the priests returned. Two days remained, and the church was bare. Two days until they came home, and not a decoration was up in the house. He wondered what they’d say, what they’d think, coming home to tasks undone, work leftover.  

Yanking the door to the sacristy open he dipped inside, pushing it shut with his backside. These shelves could only be dusted so many times, the floors vacuumed, boxes organized, books stacked. He had to decorate, he needed to decorate. Masses were left unplanned, events for the end of the year as well, he’d have guidelines written up, Jeonging, Hyunjin, Christopher, taking what he’d give them, using it to their advantage.

Hands shoved in his pockets he strolled over the carpet, taking his time, brown eyes taking in the space around him, a place once safe and sacred.

They took what he gave them. They used it to their advantage.

He felt awful thinking it. He enjoyed the work, making himself useful, knowing that everything went to plan. 

His plan.

Jisung’s plan.

Comfortable waiting on the sidelines, dancing around the edges, waiting in the wings, knowing his moment would come, and that when it did he’d blow it out of the water. The people would know it’d been him all along, he planned the services, he handled the events, he made the connections between the church and charities, he pulled all nighters to ensure paperwork was finished, that all things regarding the church, the patrons, the priests, his community, were taken care of.

Sure, people knew his face, they shook his hand after Mass, but he wasn’t the one on the altar. He wasn’t the being blessing them every week.

If the day were to ever come, if Jisung were to get his wish, would they even believe him? Or, would his existence be overshadowed by the legacy before him? To give credit where credit is due, the priests knew nothing of it. Everyone saw them responsible for Jisungs upbringing in the church, his teachers, his mentors. He had the diploma’s, the certificates, the proof that he’d done it himself, but to them, to the world beyond these doors… They saw three charming, smiling faces. Why would they not believe every word to come out of their mouths?

Bringing himself into the church, passing through the hallway without a sound, he shut the doors behind him gently and stepped up onto the altar, taking a breath as he did. Pulling his arms around himself, fingers yanking at his knit sweater, he gulped. Sunlight poured in through the windows, blessing the marble with swirls of blues and greens, rays fawning over the place he stood last night.

Blinking, he clenched his jaw and looked out upon the pews, empty rows of wood staring back. Stomach dropping ever so slightly, he ignored it, taking himself down the few steps to the tiled floor, footsteps echoing in the empty air.

He glanced about, spinning in a small circle, slowly soaking it in. The church, the atmosphere. Walls of stone, pews of lacquered wood, shining floors. The colors through the stained glass of the windows, they were beautiful, but he’s seen this a thousand times. How the sunlight shone in in literal panes, casting the pews in strategic shadows, an artist particular of with their highlight, it was supposed to wrap around him and hold him, keep him warm, from the inside out.

The walls were walls. The windows were windows.

The mural on the wall, cascading up upon the ceiling, the angels, the saints, their pure, loving faces looking down, showering their blessings over whoever graced the space beneath them, it was a painting. Paint on slabs of concrete.

Turning to the altar, the statues that lived atop of it, behind it, beside it, where he should see visions of working services with Christopher, with Hyunjin, with Jeongin, memories of two years, almost three, they’d been upstaged. By his gentle hands, attentive gaze, and careful words.

His slow kisses and the way he’d let Jisung do as he pleased until he had no idea what he was doing.

Jisung whirled around, facing the back of the church.

Closing his eyes before his thoughts carried and got the best of him, he took a long, deep breath down into his stomach.

And he thought of silky blonde hair.

It slipped through his fingers, it tickled his cheek, it smelled of a gentle lavender.

On his shoulder he’d rest his head, the scent lingering even long after he’d escape back into his room.

Jisung’s eyes sprung open, a sinking happening within him. Folding his hands into fists he dropped them at his side and started down the aisle, studying the way the light fondled his features, his feet, his torso.

Lavender and laughter. Nights spent upon bedsheets, drowning in school books or snacks they’d snuck from the kitchen, staying up too late, whispering secrets…

What secrets?

Jisung sucked down another breath, his heart beginning to beat faster between his lungs desperate for air. That sound, that voice.

What secrets, Jisung?

“I don’t remember,” he whispered, to himself, in the silence.

You remember, you can tell me.

A pit erupted within him, in his gut, nausea washing over him entirely. He could’ve fallen to his knees. Sinking into a pew, his pew, in the back of the church, he placed his arms over the edge of the pew in front of him and pressed his face into them. Keeping his eyes open, alert, on watch, he shuddered in the cold. A lump lived in his throat.

Suppressing a cough, he gulped, knowing he’d dry heave if anything else came out of his mouth. Between his eyes, straight down his throat, down into the depths of him the nausea lived. It sat. It waited. Jisung could smell the lavender, a scent both calming and soft, and it made him want to gag. Blonde hair, sparkling eyes, all of it, he lurched forward, clamping his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes shut until he calmed himself down.

Slumping over, sitting backward in the pew, he laid his hands over his lap and hung his head backward. Tears slipped from his eyes down his cheeks, not that he knew he was crying. He took breaths in halves, able to fill up his lungs only so much without triggering the urge to vomit.

Pray, you can pray and it’ll go away. You’ll feel better.

He had no energy left.

He was beautiful, freckles on his cheeks, heart shaped lips.

Things you shouldn’t pay attention to.

Memories flashed like lightning, one after the other, surfacing like they’d been packed tight, finally given the chance to escape, make themselves known. They’ve lived within him, buried deep, forced to be forgotten.

Between a sob, a lurch of his body, a heave through his chest, the shoving of his face in his elbow, his other hand slapped to the pew, fingers dragging over the smooth cover of a manila folder. 

He’d hold onto his hands, his tiny fingers just as big as Jisungs, they’d hold onto his tight, he’d bounce on his knees and he’d laugh, throwing his head backward, a smile too big for his face lighting up the room. Contagious, Jisung would laugh with him, he’d fall forward, the two smushing their foreheads together, eyes crinkling in corners, bodies convulsing in pure laughter. A happiness. The boy who lit up his darkest days. Sunshine.

Through tears Jisung pulled the folder onto his lap, the file full of things left here by Minho who’d taken it from the office. 

1957 had been written on the front.

Wiping his cheeks, sniffling, Jisung furrowed his brows.

Confidential.

“Why did he take this?” he mumbled, defeated, head rolling back as his hands raised and dropped to the top of the cover. Looking down at it, how full it was, the paper clips sticking out of the edges, he couldn’t ignore the curiosity that lingered.

Within this folder lived the entire year, 1957. 

The year Jisung arrived.

He’s never seen his paperwork. Once things were signed, he never saw them again.

The priests ushered him in, welcomed him to their home, and the work began.

There were probably progress reports in this folder, the priests taking notes while he worked beside them, while he met with them and spoke with them. The things they wrote, about him, he held them on his lap.

This folder should be in a locked drawer, one Jisung never thought to question.

One he never had the guts to question.

Those monthly cleanings and purging of papers no longer needed, all that time spent in the office alone, the keyholes never caught his eye. Complete and total trust.

Taking a finger along the edge, the bottom corner stained with a splotch of crimson, he curled it beneath the folder and paused, adrenaline coursing through him. Looking out at the church, eyes falling on a pew near the front, near the altar, he envisions what life was like two years ago, something he hasn’t thought to do ever. 

Side by side, him and Hyunjin, they sat here. For hours on end. Jisung sobbed until he made himself sick.

But, why? He blinked, gulping, his palms clammy.

He’d ask him that.

But, why?

Hyunjin, a spirit soft spoken and adored by hundreds, his words rained upon him like bullets. The mere thought of them now made him want to rip his heart out of his chest.

Jisung opened the folder.

Flipping through mindless sheets, budgets, records of events and milestones, his eyes scanned the words furiously, searching for his name amongst the bullshit.

The door behind the altar opened and closed just as gently.

Jisung’s Jobs…

Jisung’s Shopping Lists…

Jisung’s Education…

Pointless, pointless, pointless, he could remember all of that, he could picture it all as if it were happening in real time. His fingers flipped faster, the footsteps drew closer.

Why couldn’t he remember speaking with Hyunjin?

Why were his memories doused in gasoline, and why were the priests standing over him with a match, lit, ecstatic to ignite?

Jisung’s Reading Work…

Jisung’s First Service Plan…

Plan’s for Jisung’s Youth Group…

That never happened.

He flipped, he ripped, he threw papers to the ground, messier and messier, lungs sucking down air quicker with every pass of a page. Legs trembling, hands shaking, there had to be something here, there must be something that could tell him why- Felix.

Felix.

The paper had been crumpled up, then flattened again, like someone had attempted to get rid of it, but it had been recovered.

His name was written across the top, in handwriting, stunning, thin lined cursive writing. Hyunjin’s handwriting. Body going still, Jisung grew dizzy, a weightlessness surrounding him. Tunnel vision, oblivious to the being sitting themselves down on the pew in front of him, facing him, his eyes ate away at the cursive, the writing spilling things to him, that he said himself, that he couldn’t remember.

Memories shared with Felix, the nights they’d spent together, Jisung had gone on and on.

Silky blonde hair, it was written there, in his cursive, lavender, scribbled somewhere beside it.

“Jisung?” Minho.

Nausea.

Jisung admits to thinking he loved him, that the two shared more than friendship. Their connection deep, a level of understanding only a lover could fulfill. Felix makes him feel whole.

“I’m here,” Minho whispered. “Let me help you.”

The page was stapled to a plethora of others, all in Hyunjin’s writing.

A relationship between male and female, he describes, is how they would act. Erotic thoughts plagued them, though Jisung describes them as a natural curiosity. The boys shared various acts of romantic gestures, such as kissing, sleeping in the same bed.

A sob shook his body, tears falling onto the paper, the ink of the pen bleeding, smudging.

The boys acted upon one another sexually, Jisung showing little remorse for telling me what they’d do, neither wanting to have sex, knowing they were to wait until matrimony, but it didn’t stop them from accepting one another physically, orally. Neither thought they were wrong.

Cold. It filled it, it drowned him.

The folder fell from his lap, papers scattering across the tiled floor as he slid off of the pew beside them. Curling into himself, knees to his chest, his head to his knees, his fingers grasping his hair, clawing at his waves, he sucked down a breath and at once, screamed, half muffled by his knees, the sound vibrating the marble that swallowed him, that chewed him up, and spat him back out.

Shaking as he cried, while he sobbed, his body tense, sweat beading over his skin, a hand laid over his back, dragging gently to his shoulder. Fingers pressing into him, telling him he was not here alone, Jisung reached back and threw them off of him.

Minho retracted, on the floor beside him, between two pews, he tucked his hands into his chest and pressed his lips together. “Jisung,” he whispered, watching the boy wail, his body rejecting the truth his subconscious had protected for only so long. “I’m here.” Tears welled in his eyes. Jisung’s pain now his pain. Sitting on his knees, hands gripping his thighs, he shook his head. “They took so much from you,” the boy began to quiet after a gasp, “It’s unfair. It’s incredibly unfair.” Reaching out a hand, Minho touched it to his back hesitantly. Jisung didn’t reject it. “Listen to me when I say I am here for you.”

Lifting his head, a complete mess, he trembled as he pushed himself from the ground. Minho took him in his arms, taking his hands to his shoulders to help him up, his being weak, his entire world pulled out from beneath him. The warm brown of his eyes, it’d gone cold. Vacant. Distant. Dark.

“Ji?” Minho whispered, brows flipped, gaze pleading for a response.

Eyes looking down to the floor, to the papers scattered about, to Minho’s form, to his own shaking hands, Jisung looked straight at him, and whispered, “You read it.”

Minho nodded. “I did.”

A tear slipped down his cheek. “Why didn’t I remember it?”

“It says… They wrote why you don’t, or why you wouldn’t remember it the way you told them,” Minho spoke softly, with all the care in the world. Shaking his head, holding back a cry, his lip crinkled. “It’s horrible, Jisung.”

“What does it say?”

He shifted to look below him at the papers. “I have to find it, I-”

Jisung lifted his hands, planting them on Minho’s knees. Eyebrows upturned, lips pouted, honey complexion pale and withdrawn, he begged, “You tell me.” Minho froze, his eyes widening as they shifted over to Jisung. The boy gulped. “I don’t believe anything they say,” he whispered. “I believe you. You tell me.”

A boy so beautiful, with eyes so bright. Features placed to perfection, lips of gold.

It is as it is.

It is as it was.

Nights spent upon bedsheets, beneath them. Every waking second, spent together. A laugh, a smile that lit up the darkest parts of himself, that reawakened hope within him. Something he thought he’d never felt before, things he’s done, things he’s thought he’s never done before. Where he thought he caught on fast, when he thought he was a quick learner, turns out he’d already practiced. More often than not, the things he’s done with Minho, he’s done them before. All except one.

“I love you,” he whispered, and Minho gasped, jaw gone slack.

“Jisung,” he started, “You’re feeling a lot right now-”

“What did they do to me?”

Minho snapped his mouth shut. “If I tell you,” he said just above a whisper, “It will ruin everything you think, everything you feel, everything you know… about him.”

Jisung’s stomach lurched, his muscles tensing. Cringing outwardly, fingers clawing into Minho’s thighs, he whined as his tears fell instantly. “Tell me.”

“Everything you’ve built here, everything you stand for-”

Jisung threw himself backward, screaming, “Tell me!” Minho jumped. “I don’t give a damn what I’ve built, what I came here to do, who I came here to serve. They took him from me. I loved him and they took him from me.”

“Okay,” Minho breathed, holding out a hand for Jisung to take. The boy glanced at it, settling himself against the back of the pew, pulling his knees into his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Crossing his arms over his chest, Minho took a breath and lowered his gaze for a few seconds before training his eyes back on Jisungs. “I’ve heard of this happening. In my years where I came from, and my years prior to rejoining the church. I used to laugh at it, thinking that there's no way it’s effective, there’s no way it works.” Minho bobbed his head the slightest, one hand poking out to gesture to Jisung. “Then, I met you.”

The boy released a breath, holding onto every word he gave him.

“Everything I’ve told you, it’s the truth. Hearing about you and your success with schooling and landing your spot here. I truthfully was interested in meeting you, working with you. But, when I did,” Minho dropped his gaze, eyes drawing over Jisung and his frame, “I did not expect this.”

“What is this?”

He met his eyes once more. “There’s a form of therapy,” Minho kept his voice steady, “A type of therapy. They’ll call it a treatment of sorts, as if we’re unwell. Sick.”

“They tell me I struggled when I first got here,” Jisung whispered. Minho acknowledged him with a nod.

“And, do you remember what you struggled with?”

Jisung’s vacant eyes couldn’t give him an answer.

Minho lowered his voice, moving closer to Jisung as he whispered, “They think they can convert you, turn you into a heterosexual. It’s called conversion therapy.” Jisung’s expression shattered. “The priest who used me, he’d help people. Convert them to what they thought was normal.”

“But never you,” Jisung whispered, his cries quivering within his voice.

Minho shook his head. “He couldn’t, then how would he get me naked?” Jisung buried his face in the nook of his arms, body shaking as he cried. “All the times I’d watch the people leave after meeting with him, nothing but trauma on their faces, in their souls… It wrecked them all, but it never worked. He was a sick man.” Minho reached a hand toward Jisung, placing it gently over his arm, dancing it toward his shoulder hoping to soothe him. “The day that I met you, Ji, in Christopher’s office, I could see it. You felt something when you looked at me. The boy inside of you, the part of you they scared away, that they forced you to hide, he felt something when he saw me. You saw me, and I saw you.”

Jisung lifted his head, teary eyes locking onto Minho’s.

“That look in your eyes,” he smiled at him, “I’ll never forget it.”

“You laughed at me,” Jisung whispered, voice squeaky.

Minho’s smile grew. “I did,” he said. “I didn’t mean for it to be rude, I couldn’t help myself, I knew who you were. I knew what you were.” Lifting his head completely, Minho reached his other hand forward to brush tears from his cheeks. “When you told me about Christopher, about how much he meant to you, how afraid you were to disobey him in any way, it confirmed everything I thought. He kept you close. If you were to venture away from him, spend too much time without him…”

“I couldn’t, that terrified me,” Jisung said.

Minho nodded once. “They conditioned that into you. That’s his job. To watch over you, to keep you safe, yes, but… to make sure that this,” Minho gestured around them, to the papers, to Jisung crying, “does not happen. After all of my meetings with each of them, I learned even more. They attempted to get into me, especially Hyunjin. Thankfully I met you, I spent time with you first, so I knew what was coming. It prepared me.”

“For what?”

“This,” Minho whispered. “I liked what I saw in Christopher's office, Han Jisung.” The boy couldn’t fight back his smile. “So did you. Even if you didn’t know it.”

“That’s why you pried at me the way that you did,” Jisung mumbled, moving a hand over top of Minho’s. “Said those awful things.”

“Were they really so awful?” Minho questioned with the perk of a brow and tilt of his chin.

Jisung shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Quiet fell around them, as did a thousand unanswered questions. Staring at one another, that feeling between them stronger than ever, smiles sparked and grew so much that Jisung had moved into his arms entirely, his face buried in Minho’s neck, their arms wrapped around one another. 

Drawing his hands over the boy's back, aiding in soothing his breaths back to normal, his heartbeat steady, Minho whispered, “For what it’s worth, I love you too.”

Jisung smiled. “You took my virginity, I hope you do.”

A laugh escaped him. “Ji, we had sex in here.”

Sitting up, hands gripping onto him still somehow, Jisung sighed. “It’s sick.” Minho’s brows creased in the center, worried. “I want them to know.”

Withholding a laugh, the sound coming straight from his chest, Minho dropped his head forward, his grin eating away at his cheeks. “There is so much of you left to uncover,” he half groaned, looking up at him. “I knew that couldn’t have been your first time with a cock in your throat.”

“Stop,” Jisung whispered with a smile.

Minho took a hand to his chin, dragging his thumb over his cheek. Smirk evident, he asked, “Too soon?” Jisung nodded. “I’m sorry.”

The boy looked down to the mess of papers under them. “I need to read all of this,” he said. “Before they come back, I just…” he glanced up at Minho, sorrow filling his eyes, “They’re coming back.”

Minho muttered, “You don’t sound too happy about that.”

“How can I be? After all of this?” Jisung clenched his jaw, scanned his surroundings, ended with Minho, then said, “Bring all the papers to your room. Please.”

Minho, awaiting instruction to move, nodded. “I will. What are you going to do?”

Jisung leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lips lingering by his ear. “Get ready for you.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to have sex with you, not only after this,” he gestured to the mess around them, “But…” Looking up at Jisung he swept his fingers over his cheeks and held them in the palms of his hands. “You need to slow down. We’ve moved so fast, Ji.”

His face went unchanged. “I lost three years of my life,” he whispered. Minho’s eyebrows flipped over, Jisung swore his bottom lip pouted. “Even more than that, because of them,” he tried to look up, look around, at the granite that towered over them, caged them within its persistent pursuit of a holiness that did not exist, “Because of… this.”

“And, what of when they come home?”

Jisung clenched his jaw, squeezing it shut with such force Minho could feel it in the heel of his palm. “I don’t know.” The words slithered through his teeth.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Jisung quirked his head in question. “About us?”

Minho huffed and breathed through a laugh, his hands dropping to the boy's lap. “God, no, Ji,” he stifled his laughter, “That you know, that you’ve figured them out, that they have no control over you any longer.” Glancing down to Minho’s hands, Jisung took a deep breath, his lungs squeezing from the pain of heaving for so long. “You’ve broken their cycle, you can change what’s happened here, you can rewrite years, you can save others from succumbing to the same fate as you, you can be all you’ve ever wanted to be, but stronger. You have the upper hand here.”

The upper hand.

Stronger.

One step ahead.

“They’re smart,” Jisung whispered. “Why would they keep this around, so close, if they know I could’ve found it as easily as you have.”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “They’ve trusted you. All this time. Just as you’ve trusted them.”

The angelic curvature of his face went unphased, an expression so set in its ways. Jisung studied him, his perfection, his assertiveness regarding the matter, that his whole world had been flipped upside down. He studied him. With brows upturned and tears on cheeks, he maintained his composure, didn’t let Minho in, and for the first time in a long time he allowed himself to analyze.

As if some subconscious being had reawoken within him, like the wires in his brain had gotten tangled and finally put back together. Through cinnamon sugar eyes, he watched, studied, learned.

“Why were you bringing this to me?”

Minho pursed his lips into the quickest smile. “What?”

Jisung swallowed, licked his lips and nodded, voice absolutely quiet. “The folder, Minho. Yesterday you brought it in here, I assume you were bringing it to me.”

Furrowing his brows, he slowly bobbed his head. “Right after I had read it, I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I needed to know if you knew, I had to confirm what I already knew to be true.” He attempted to reach back for his cheeks. Jisung dodged his touch. “Ji.”

“Why bring it to me?” Jisung lifted his chin. “To confirm what you knew to be true, you think that sounds spectacular, but you know what it sounds like to me?” Minho could barely shake his head. Jisung whispered through his teeth, “Sounds like you were put here to challenge me.”

Minho leapt where he sat, higher on his knees. “No, no, don’t you dare-"

Jisung pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, looking down and around at the papers on the floor. “Did you do this?”

“Do what?” Minho leaned forward, exasperated, eyes pleading with Jisung.

The boy rolled his shoulders back, meeting his eyes after a few moments of silence. “I don’t know.” Minho sighed, his head dropping toward his lap. “It seems awfully fitting though, doesn’t it, Lee Minho. That you come here, seeking my job. You tell me you knew who and what I was from the start, you fall into Christopher’s good graces instantly. You say you told them nothing. Yet, here we are, behind their backs, defiling their church. We're supposed to be serving them, and they said it themselves, you are the test. I find it highly amusing that you got past Hwang Hyunjin, because nobody does.” Minho sat like stone. “Either you’re here to mess things up for me, or you’re working with them.”

“Good god, they screwed you up,” Minho muttered, head shaking, eyes boring into Jisung’s. “Ji, I’m real. I’m not working with them, I’m not here to-"

“Then, you did this yourself,” Jisung laughed aloud, a cackle of sorts, sending chills down Minho’s spine. Rolling onto his knee caps the boy grabbed fistfuls of paper, crumpled them up and threw them toward him. “You made this up, this isn’t real. You needed something to help convince me of this fantasy we’ve been living in.” His stomach flipped, nausea rising within him. “This whole time, all this God damned time.” 

Standing to his feet his knees wobbled so much so that he had to grab onto the pew for stability. Minho scrambled to his feet. He was shouting something, saying something, but Jisung could only hear the pulsing of blood in his ears, could only focus on the heave of his stomach as he backed away from Minho. Using his hands to turn him around, he shook his head. Tears fell, sobs bounced off the walls. Jisung used the pews as a crutch, hobbling for the altar as fast as he could, wanting nothing but to run from him.

At the altar his knees hit the marble, his hands slapping to tile just after. Tears slipped from his cheeks to the floor, sparkling in the dim sunlight. Gasping for air, he rolled over onto his back, elbows on the ledge, and he looked down the aisle, dread consuming him, filling him to the brim with pins and needles.

Cold.

Minho strolled the floor. Slowly. His gaze locked on Jisung where he laid. He carried himself no different than before, a stunning face full of sorrow, a build more structured than the walls around him. Perfection.

Jisung sobbed harder, his chest squeezed by an invisible rope it seemed the man approaching him seemed to be holding.

He stepped over him, his skinny legs. Casting him in shadow, Minho paused with his waist between his ankles, and he crouched down. Reaching out a hand, he drug two fingers over Jisung’s cheek, brushed away his tears, and lifted his chin. 

With a steady breath, he danced his thumb over his honey toned skin, and smiled. His own eyes brimmed with tears. After a nod, he whispered, “I forgive you,” and he kissed him. Not once, not twice, but three times. Pulling away from him, forehead to forehead, both of their eyes squeezed shut, Minho took a deep breath, breathing him in, and just as he released it, he released Jisung, his footsteps receding behind the altar until they were nothing but a faint memory living in the back of the boy's mind.

The back door to the clergy house pushed open in a hurry, one both excited and nervous. Barreling through the threshold, suitcase in hand, Christopher greeted Ann with a dazzling smile, but breezed past her. Something more important would be waiting for him, in fact, he’s shocked he wasn’t waiting on the doorstep. Behind him Jeongin and Hyunjin got themselves in the kitchen and greeted their caretaker appropriately, unlike their youngest.

“Ji?!” Christopher called out into the house. Leaving his suitcase in the kitchen for the other two to deal with, he tore off his gloves, his hat, his scarf, feet moving a mile a minute through the hall and into the living room. Unbuttoning his jacket, he paused behind a couch and sighed. “Hi,” he nearly sang, his smile deepening into his cheeks, dimples on display. 

Jisung sat on the couch to the right of the fireplace. Eyes fixed on the priest, he didn’t say a word.

Christopher let out a laugh as he finished with his coat, tossing it over the back of the sofa. “Mad at me? A week is too long, yeah?” Hyunjin and Jeongin joined him on either side of the couch. Jisung shifted his eyes. Christopher tilted his head, eyes narrowing, scanning over his prodigy. “Everything okay?”

Then, his eyes zeroed in on the folder sitting upon his lap. One thick, full, labeled 1957.

Hyunjin and Jeongin seemed to catch it right away.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin began, but Jisung sat forward, silencing him. 

Jeongin lifted a hand. “Let’s talk, Han, I believe-“

“I believe you need to explain yourselves,” Jisung spoke with such a sureness it took them all by surprise. “But, I don’t think I have the patience to sit here and listen to it.”

Jeongin placed his hands by his sides, tucking them behind him, folding them together. Hyunjin watched him, took him in, read him, and Jisung knew it, could feel it. It’s how he knew how to do it, too. Fast learner. Everything written in the pages on his lap, the truth.

Christopher, with both hands sliding over his chest, reaching for his neck, he stuttered before choking out, “Where’s Minho?”

Jisung settled his lips in a lazy smile, one half amused and half disgustingly ticked off. Tucking a finger beneath the cover of the folder, he tossed it open and licked the tip of his finger to rifle through the files. “Don’t worry,” he shook his head, clicking his tongue, shooting the three of them a look so sinister, “I did it.”

Christopher whispered, “Did what?”

Jisung smirked. “Won.”

masterlist ✞ talk to me ✞ ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[daydreams-after-dark]

PLS I NEED A FIC WHERE BIG DICK HAN IS TIED UP AND EDGED FOR HOURS BY M!READER UNTIL HE SHAKES AND WHINES 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴

"h-hyung, p-please, I'm begging, I need to- ah-!" (Edged again) "Please h-hyung, it really hurts, it hurts" then he cries then you edge him for another hour 😩😩

Edge and ruin his damn orgasm atleast 20 times and he will literally cry and beg and shake just to cum

(in my Dom era, yes I like being both so I read both XDDDDDDDD)

So, after a little chat behind the scenes, @chuuchuu1224 is happy for me write this as a Minsung piece 😃 I don’t think I’ve ever written them by themselves before 🤔 … anyway we’re going classic Minsung with a needy Ji and a domming Min.

Hope you like it 😘 x. Sorsha

“M-min…p-please…” whined Jisung. “Need to cum… please…please let me…baby, please!”

“Shh! What did I say about your whining, Hmm?” Minho said coldly. “Just shut up and take your punishment.”

“I’m s-sorry, hyung!” He sobbed.

Jisung had been tied to bed for 3 hours now, and he was almost at breaking point. He looked a sight. He was completely naked, sweating, his big delicious cock swollen, angry and leaking, resting against his taut abs. Tears running down his cheeks.

Minho thought he looked perfect being this helpless. That’s why he has really taken his time to tease torment his lover. Just like he himself had been tortured all week by Jisung.

For the past six days he’d been teasing Minho, avoiding his touch and ignoring his glances, flirting with Hyunjin. Grr. It’d been driving him fucking crazy. Cock tease. “I promise you’re gonna pay for this.” He’d told him the other night. He was met with an attitude of “what are ya gonna do about it?”

Well, now Jisung knew exactly what Minho was doing about it.

“You can’t do this to me!!! Aahhh p-please.” He scrunched his eyes as he sobbed loudly.

Minho hovered over Jisung’s cock, taking it in his hand and squeezing it slightly.

“Fuuuccckkk!!! H-Hyung… stop teasing… I’m gonna die!”

Minho licked the dribbling pre-cum from the tip. It was probably the fifteenth time he’d done so today. Edging poor Ji until he was almost there, then simply licking the precum away and leaving him writhing on the bed.

His balls were so tight and painful looking too. Minho wondered how he’d react if he squeezed them?

“Hyung!!!!” He sobbed. Minho smirked.

“Sungie. You need to listen very carefully. I’m going to untie you now. But only so you can roll onto your stomach. Then you’re going to be tied again. No funny business.”

Jisung whined. “O-okay…”

Minho repositioned Jisung so he was lying on his stomach, arms stretched and tied above his head. He immediately started grinding against the bedspread.

“Ahh… fuck!”’ Jisung squealed as a hard slap landed on his ass.

“No grinding.” Growled Minho.

He bit his lower lip as he caressed the curve of Jisung’s back, causing the boy to shudder, then parting his cheeks and nestling his face between them to lick his hole.

A low groan came from Jisung as Minho ate him out. He knew it would drive him absolutely crazy. But there was something that he knew would really torture his poor boyfriend. He slipped a finger into his hole. Just to the first knuckle. He gently thrust into him one, two, three times, then removed his finger entirely.

“Fuck you, Minho! When I’m not tied up I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.” He growled, trying to look back at him.

So he was at the stage of throwing threats now? He’d already begged and bargained to no avail. Desperate, needy boy.

“I mean it. I’m gonna fuck you up—aaahhh. F-fuck.”

Minho couldn’t hold out any longer and laid himself on top of Jisung and pushed his cock into his tight ass.

“Min…fuck…fuck…I’m… fuck you’re deep. P-please…ngh…”

Three deep, precise thrusts from Minho, and Jisung came with his cock squished between his stomach and the mattress. He shook and convulsed underneath Minho, making him almost come too.

“Min….no…too… it’s too much!”

“Shut up. Don’t you fucking know how much I’ve wanted to be buried in your ass this week?” He panted as he snapped his hips.

“Hyung…I love you.” Whimpered Jisung into the matress.

Minho’s thrusts halted for just s moment as his heart burst inside his chest.

“I love you too, Sungie. But for now I need to be a good little cocksleeve for me and be quiet.”

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha

[urfavskzlvr]

What do you think it'll be like having both Minho and Jisung as your partners? Like, you guys are in a poly relationship and all

I see them both as heavy switches, but you can interpret them however you want

MINORS DNI (afab reader described)

HFUWRGUIFVGED

EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH

seungminssangel (go read their work, they're a really good writer) wrote about fucking Seungmin while he fucked Felix and (me personally) I THINK THATS MORE MINSUNG CODED. Because both of them would be perfectly fine in any position/order. You wanna be drilled into by Minho while you're slamming into Hannie? DONE. You wanna be messily slammed into by Han while Minho is behind making him messy? CHECK.

They would eat you out at the same time and 🤭🤭. Minho would be fucking you with his tongue while Han focuses on your clit. Inpatient Hannie would be rutting against the bed while sucking on your clit :( Minho constantly tells you how good you taste while Hannie whines and hums in ecstasy. They would pull away to exchange the flavor of you with each other, maybe needy Han leans up and kisses you too while Minho goes back to your leaking pussy.

They both LOVE your tits. Hannie would suck on the right one while Minho flicks his tongue on the left one. Minho would pinch your nipple hard while finger fucking you with the other hand, while Han whines and sucks the other nipple and rubs your clit messily. They both would fuck your tits at the same time. Just the mix of your soft skin and the feeling of their hard cocks against each other has them cumming on your face in moments.

They both beg you to let them fuck you at the same time, either in the same hole or not they would let you choose. After weeks of begging, you finally say yes. You choose for Minho to be in your ass while Han is in your pussy. After lots of praise and prep, you are sandwiched between your two boyfriends. Oh, and they are both standing. Minho is supporting you with his hands spreading your ass for him while your ankles are on Han's shoulder. They both buck into you at different paces and it has your head spinning.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ahaha I may have gotten carried away. Thank you for this ask <333

Reblogs, comments, and asks are super appreciated <3 Love you bye

[pretty-blkgirl]

A Month Later…

PART ONE OF TWO

~Part Two~

//gn!reader x minsung//

Synopsis: When your ex boyfriends finally decide to contact you after a sudden breakup.

Genre: angst

Warnings: poly relationship, characters being insecure, unsupportive parent, crying, arguing, just overall sad af

~~~~|~~~~

You much rather be at home right now, listening to sad music while crying your eyes out over your recent breakup.

A year-long relationship went in the blink of an eye. No warning signs, no indication that it was about to end. Everything was perfect until a week ago. Hell, even that morning was perfect.

The 20 minutes before it happened was perfect.

Everything was amazing until you sat down to “talk about some things”. You had a huge smile on your face because you had just got done eating your favorite dinner- which was prepared for you.

You were so happy. Literally on cloud 9 since the relationship began. Then it happened.

“I think we should break up”

Looking back on things, you hate how you handled it. Your face immediately dropped, then you laughed and begged for this to all be a joke. When you noticed how serious they looked, you swore the room started to spin.

Everything started to ache, from your heart to your head. You felt like throwing up, and incoming sobs started to form in your throat.

However, everything on the outside looked to be normal-ish with you. A couple of tears slipped, and your breathing got quicker, but besides that, you nodded curtly and left the apartment you used to spend every night at.

You wished you would have fought for the relationship. You wished you asked what was wrong, was it a misunderstanding or something?

You didn’t let all your feelings out until you got back to your apartment. You barely closed the door behind you when you collapsed to the ground.

You cried and screamed all night long, even having some neighbors come by to check on you.

It hurt so bad, even more so since the heartbreak was doubled.

You were with them both, Jisung and Minho. You remember the exact day you guys met.

You had a mutual friend; Chan. One day Chan expressed how he wanted you to meet his friends. He was always telling you about how he wanted to meet new people, and he swore that you’d love the group of boys.

After some days of convincing, you begrudgingly agreed.

A few days later, you were at his house waiting for his friends to show up. You ended up making your world-famous brownies- the ones Chan begged you to make whenever you’d come over. He was eating his third brownie when a group of men suddenly barged in the door.

The first one you saw was Changbin. You immediately thought he was handsome, but his body is what made you subtly bite your lip and shamelessly check him out.

He caught you, of course, and walked over with a shit-eating grin.

“You must be y/n?” He asked. You nod and offer him a brownie. He takes it and bites into it, eyes damn near popping out of his head when he does so.

“Yah Yongbok, you have some serious competition” He yelled out, making you flinch at his booming voice but laughing afterward.

Felix comes to you next, politely introducing himself and taking the brownie you offered. You could tell he loved it by the way his eyes lit up.

He was so beautiful, and his freckles only added to the warmness he gave off. He would spend the rest of the night talking to you about baking and gaming.

The next two were Seungmin and I.N. They were the youngest, and the very obvious menaces to society. They both tried your brownies and tried hard to make it seem like they didn’t like them. You giggled at their silly antics before they would both ask for more.

In all honesty, they were so pretty and polite. Much like Felix, there was a cuteness that made you want to take care of them.

Hyunjin confidently walked up to you and you questioned whether or not a human was in front of you or some sort of God of beauty.

He was perfect, being able to balance being cute and sexy at the same time. He went to try your brownie and you found yourself bursting out with laughter. He looked so sad when he ate, and it made you so happy.

He laughed along with you, and you couldn’t feel more comfortable about the group so far.

That is until they came to you.

One wearing a kind smile and the other looked like intimidation personified. They were like night and day to you.

Jisung reminded you of the color orange, bright and free. He seemed so nice and excited to see you. It made you want to trust him immediately, it made you want to just engulf him in a hug.

Minho reminded you of purple, dark, and reserved. He wasn’t mean in the slightest, but you could tell he cared a lot about the people he loved and was a bit weary of you.

Aside from that, they were both so gorgeous. All the breath in your chest disappeared when you initially saw them. You knew something was gonna happen with them, something told you.

The rest of the night consisted of you getting close to the boys, and by the time they left, you had considered all of them to be your friends.

You got all of their numbers and ended up receiving a text from Jisung the next morning.

That’s how your year-long relationship started. The best year of your life.

You would start talking to Jisung first, and Minho would come just a little while later. They were already established, and at first, you didn’t want to ruin their relationship by adding yourself to it. But they insisted, and your heart was telling you to take the chance.

You won’t regret the relationship at all. It was truly the best relationship you’ve ever been in. You honestly didn’t think it could get any better.

You all rarely fought, you spent so much time together despite your busy schedules and were more than comfortable taking some time for yourselves when you needed to.

No favorites were being played, ever. You loved them equally and you know they felt the same about you.

So why did they do that? Why did they call you over to their apartment early Saturday morning?

Why did they look so happy when you walked into the house? They didn’t kiss you, but they hugged you so tight. Why did Minho make your favorite breakfast?

Why did Jisung make your favorite lunch?

Why did they both make your favorite dinner? Why did they stare at you as you ate? Why did they bring you to the living room as soon as you finished?

And why did they break your heart like that?

These were all floating around in your mind since it happened.

You didn’t plan on seeing them ever again. You made sure to tell the group what happened so you’d be warned if there was any possibility that you’d run into them.

Bless the boys, they did everything they could to support you and your ex-lovers. They showed no favoritism and made sure to comfort you just as much as they did them.

Felix told you they were hurting, and you’re sure he told them the same thing.

This wasn’t your fault though. They broke up with you and didn’t even try to contact you for the entire month that you’ve been separated.

Until this morning.

You now sit on the same couch where everything went down. Jisung and Minho look like they’ve been crying.

No one speaks for a while until you dare to talk, “You called me here. Say what you have to say”

[bangrychannie]

Stray Kids Fic Recs: College AU Part 2

Hello! It's been a while since I did my last rec list, so here's another one! College AU Part 2. Feel free to request a rec list in my ask box :)

My other fic rec lists

rule number one by evesmysoul (Minsung | 7/7 | 144200 | Explicit)

“If we’re doing this, we need written rules,” he said, spelling out “Rule Number One:” on the paper in front of him. “Rules?” Minho asked, sounding confused. “Yes, rules.” “What kind of rules?” Or Jisung’s broken heart leads him to make an arrangement with his mysterious classmate Minho. He believes everything will work out, as long as neither of them breaks the rules.

You're lucky that you get to read this all at once and don't have to wait for updates haha. One of my favs of all time, chapter 3 changed my brain chemistry and the smut and angst is life changing

You're starting to feel... very sleepy by megaversenumber1fan (Jilix | 1/1 | 7295 | Explicit)

“There’s no way it’ll work,” Seungmin said, removing himself from Jisung’s personal space and sitting back on his bed. He had a smirk on his face that Jisung had learned to be challenging him. “Wanna bet?” Jisung asked. He stood up, stalking over so he was towering over Seungmin. He looked up at Jisung with a shit-eating grin, eyes full of mirth. “I bet I can make you think you’re actually a dog.” “Yeah right,” Seungmin laughed, rolling his eyes. “You know what? Sure. Loser buys dinner for tonight.” — On a lazy summer day, Jisung tries his hand at hypnosis. There are unintended consequences.

Silly fic with great smut, what more could you ask for?

roundabouts and merry go rounds - sunshinedozing (Hyunsung | 1/1 | 14087 | Explicit)

“Why do you cover your tattoo?” Hyunjin asks quietly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” “Ah, no it’s okay. I… met my soulmate. A long time ago.” Jisung swallows, looking anywhere but Hyunjin. “It didn’t work out.” “Oh. Was it because…” “I’m trans? Surprisingly, no. This was before that.” “I’m sorry.” There’s a long pause before Jisung replies, and when he does there’s something in his voice that Hyunjin can’t quite get a read on “It’s not like it’s your fault.”

Sometimes, second time's the charm.

Soulmate AU, trans representation, angst with a happy ending. Love this one!

thanks for calling by bangrychannie and megaversenumber1fan (Minsung | 2/2 | 13714 | Teen)

“H-hi, Is this the Soonie, Doongie, Dori show?” Jisung stuttered, immediately regretting it. He couldn’t even say hello like a normal person, for fuck’s sake. Obviously this was the Soonie, Doongie, Dori show! He went silent for a few seconds, before remembering that dead air is bad on the radio. “It sure is. I can’t believe I have any listeners other than them,” Lee Know’s voice cut in, saving Jisung from the awkward silence. “Yeah, I’ve been listening for a few weeks, actually. Your voice helps me sleep. I’m an insomniac, and nothing has really worked before I found your show.” Jisung rambled, his face flushing as he talked. “So you called me to tell me I’m boring?” Lee Know asked, tone neutral.

Or: Jisung is an insomniac who's tried everything he can to get a good night's sleep. Nothing worked until he stumbled upon the Soonie, Doongie, Dori show on his college's radio station.

My magnum opus

likey lighty by flying_dream (Seungjin | 1/1 | 8985 | Teen)

It starts when East Asian Soc decides to host an event to raise money for charity. Their event of choice? A mini Take Me Out night: university style! Buy a ticket and watch sixteen single students vie for a date with one of four single men! Seungmin doesn't think much of it - until he finds out that Hyunjin has volunteered as one of the single men up for grabs. As in, his best friend Hyunjin. As in, the guy Seungmin has been in love with for two years. So he signs up.

Short and sweet

Han Jisung Fucks: A National Geographic Special by Skzoodle (Minsung | 4/4 | 59785 | Explicit)

After flunking out of college due to a depressive episode and rampant untreated anxiety, Jisung transfers schools in his Sophomore year. With his confidence in shambles and no friends, Jisung feels like a wet noodle of a person—especially when he finds himself rooming with seven hot guys who have incredibly strong personalities. And he’s just… Jisung. Or, Jisung’s journey of self-discovery and gaining confidence as he figures out how to fit in with his new friends, overcomes imposter syndrome, (and loses his virginity along the way).

Quintessential college AU fanfic, with some virgin Jisung thrown in <3

a whole new world by cloudfall (Minsung | 1/1 | 12871 | explicit)

Han Jisung, well-known serial flirt, makes a big mistake when he tries to hit on the wrong people at Chan’s party. They flip his world view when they ask why he hasn’t tried dick yet, and suddenly Jisung is on the hunt to discover how to handle his way around dick. Enter Chan’s friend, Lee Minho, who will supposedly teach him anything and everything he needs to know about taking dick up the ass like a pro.

Love me a gay awakening fic

opposites attract by keros (Minchan | 4/4 | 63754 | Explicit)

"I bet he cries when he comes," Minho can't help but murmur, scowling across the room at the smiling boy everyone just seemed to be in love with. "No way," Hyunjin immediately protests with a scoff. "Where did you even get that idea?" "Minho's just moody 'cause he knows Chan wouldn't wanna fuck him," Seungmin states with way too much assuredness. "Oh great." Jisung has finally torn his reverent stare away from Chan to cast Minho some wary side-eye, watching how his best friend has gone dangerously quiet, eyes thinned into a suddenly competitive glare. "Now Minho is gonna have to get Chan to fuck him just to prove a point." "And I will make him cry," Minho promises. - Minho and Chan were total opposites in every way: sharp frowns versus wide smiles, chocolate hair versus beach blonde waves, unforgiving cold against total sunshine. Chan was popular and loved by all, and Minho really couldn't give a fuck. So why, why, why were they perfect for each other?

The smut in this is AMAZING

Hope you enjoy my recs! LMK what you want next!

[j-onedrabbles]

Just a heads up this is kinda sad (unfortunately a friend of mine was in a similar situation). It's alright if you don't wanna write it, I just thought l'd ask be of how talented you are🤭🩵. Poly skz + reader, or just Minsung or Hyunlix if you want, totally up to you. Reader relatively new to the relationship and is trying their best to be the best partner to all parties, but doesn't feel like it's being returned. They feel like skz (or whichever ship you choose is) too into each other and not them, like the shiny new toy isn't exciting anymore. One night, after everyone goes to sleep, reader gets their things and leaves without saying anything. If you're not comfortable with writing it, that's ok!🩵

✧   PAIRING: HYUNJIN X GN!READER X FELIX ✧   CW: ANGST, FLUFF IF YOU SQUINT, FEELINGS OF NOT BEING LOVED, THIRD WHEEL MENTIONS, SHORT BLURB, OPEN ENDING ✧   WC: 0.5K ✧   NOTE: you think im talented 🥹🩵🩵 and im so sorry your friend went through that. i had an old cosplay friend who was in a situation like that as well so i’d hear about it a bit

     Y/n tried. They tried as hard as they could in the relationship. But entering an already established relationship was hard. Starting to date two people who already had a history together felt, weird? Almost like, sometimes you were intruding on the other two in the relaetionship.

     The start of it was great. Y/n had met Hyunjin first and the two hit it off and he had mentioned them to Felix. Meeting Felix was a nice warm fuzzy feeling the moment he smiled at them. After a few months, the two boys asked Y/n out. Promising equal love. But three-way love was difficult.

     Because of work, Hyunjin and Felix both spent a lot more time together than Y/n with just one of them. It was a little unfair, maybe a lot.They still showed Y/n the same amount of love they gave each other, good morning kisses, cuddling all the time, sleeping together, etc. But that didn’t stop those thoughts from coming in.

      Maybe it was just all just one-sided to begin with. The two men were happy well before Y/n entered the picture; even though they both tried their hardest to wash the worries they had away. But all they did was give them words. Words that started to barely mean anything. Yeah, they were busy, but it just felt like Y/n was left out. Kisses, hugs, and cuddles weren’t enough anymore.

     The two didn’t really need them, right? Would they even notice if Y/n left? Would they even care?

     The thoughts swirled in their head for a week. It was when the two came home from a rough day at the company and just said good night Y/n figured it was time to go. They didn’t say anything, just texted a friend asking to stay with them for a few days. Once they agreed, she quietly grabbed as much as she could fit in a small bag while the two were passed out in each others arms.

     It hurt to look at the couple laying in the threes shared bed all by themselves, but when you don’t feel the same love you put out, you get out before you hurt yourself more. Y/n wiped a stray tear from under their eye and tip-toed out of the room. They closed the door and headed out of the home. Y/n took one look around the living area, not praying that one of them wakes up and walks out of the room asking where they were going, but making sure they had everything.

     Y/n sighed and closed the door, locking it and heading down to their car. The realization came once they got to their friends place. Crying on their coach till almost two or three in the morning. There weren’t enough words to describe that pain of being promised shared love and only receiving it when it was new and fun— if there was even words to describe that pain.

M. LIST ✧ TIP JAR

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© 2023 jonedrabbles. Please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[lyramundana]

I had a little thought that I needed to share but no idea what to do with and what better than to bring it to the Minsung queen.

Mc calling Minsung mommy and daddy, or like her parents in general, because they treat her like Minho treats his precious kitties with the upmost love and care and special treatment even. They could never be mad at her, it’s never her fault and they’ll defend her on that. She thinks it’s all platonic (doesn’t want it to be) but she couldn’t be more wrong.

She doesn’t know every time she calls Minho mommy he wants to say all hell to dinner and bend her over the counter. She doesn’t know every time she calls Jisung daddy he wants to force his cock down her throat while he watches plays his game (now we all know that wouldn’t last long before he’s more focused on fucking her face). She doesn’t know every time she calls them mommy and daddy they wanna make her a real mommy.

Annyyywayyss, from the corner of your room,

- Fellow Minsung Whore😚

(I swear I’m working on my own little things😭)

We're spreading the Mommy! Minho agenda, yesss! And finally someone understands the potential of Han Jisung as a Daddy, again YES!!!

I love the subby, babygirl Jisung as much as everyone else here, but c'mon, have you seen his stage presence? His personality outside of it? There's a dominant, intimidating side in him, and we should explore it more..

Anyway, back to this treasure because I don't even know how to respond (as usual with this bitch)

the Minsung queen.

AUSFJERJVFJ what even?😂😫i don't deserve such title, i'm just another delulu obsessed with minsung, but thank you nontheless

She doesn’t know every time she calls them mommy and daddy they wanna make her a real mommy

STOP IT this made me feel thingies on my lower regions i shouldn't talk about 😵😵 I need more details now, like WAY more details pls. Love how they're so soft for her and spoil her rotten, with the "it's never her fault". And how horny they are for her. Imagine how they are when they finally drop the platonic farse and finally make their wishes reality.

She would be so throughly fucked that by the end of it she would be unable to walk or even speak. She's brainless, in another plane of existence, which it's perfect for the, because it allows them to care for her body so much better. Seriously, the first week is brutal for the three of them, taking breaks only to eat and shower, to make up for all the pent up tension, and there's not a corner in the house where they haven't make her cum at least twice.

"Look at you, baby, making such a mess all over Daddy's cock. What would Mommy say if she saw you getting dirty like this, mhm?" he speaks with fake dissapointment, as he keeps a firm grip on her hair, legs spread on the couch lazily.

"My sweet, pretty baby, always so good for us. Can you strech your legs a bit wider for me, kitten? Mommy wants to fill you up nice and good." he says sultry in her ear, as he slowly pushes her down on his hard on, making sure his whole dick is inside of her for when he empties his seed on her.

Taglist: @channieandhisgoonsquad @2chopsticks2eyes @moonlightndaydreams @skzms @thightswideforhanin @queenmea604 @k-krissten @stayconnecteed @roseykat @hyunsvngs @hanjisunglover @hanjibug (if anyone wants to be added please let me know)

[cuddlepilefics]

Flushed cheeks + past prompts (Sicktember)

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jeongin

Caregivers: mainly Chan (+Minsung)

@sicktember

Prompts: flushed cheeks

“I might be a teeny tiny bit sick, but it’s fine.”

I didn’t mean to wake you

Borrowed hoodie

Psychogenic fever/stress induced illness

Aches and pains

My body is one big ache

Lethargy/exhaustion

Tepid bath

Vitamin c

Taking a sick day

Blankets

Asleep on the couch

warm soup

fuzzy socks

No one’s POV.:

Jeongin had been pretty run down for the past two weeks, which wasn’t really surprising considering the busy schedules he’s had. For weeks, he had constantly been stressed, unable to catch a break and it got to the point that he even stressed about being stressed. Tired didn’t even come close in trying to describe what he felt, so right now that they finally got a weekend off to rest and recuperate, Jeongin couldn’t imagine getting up at all. His limbs were heavy as lead and struggled to roll over and pull his blanket tighter but the light was peaking through the curtains and burned his eyes, keeping him from going back to sleep.

Chan had spent most of the night editing a track he had been working on and ended up sleeping almost till noon. When he finally emerged from his room, he figured Jeongin had already eaten breakfast and probably gone out to spend the day with some of the other members. He might even be visiting his family, though he didn’t mention anything the day before, at last not as far as Chan could remember. Only when the Aussie heard the bathroom door open and shut did he start to question his assumptions. He had figured Jeongin would join him as soon as he was done but the maknae simply went back to his room. Since he hadn’t seen his dongsaeng since the day before, Chan decided to check on him and was surprised to find the curtains drawn and the younger already back in bed, curled up under his blanket.

With the blanket pulled up to his chin, Jeongin turned to Chan, hair ruffled and cheeks flushed. He looked dazed with sleep still, which was weird as it was already lunchtime. “Hey there”, Chan hummed, crouching next to the boy’s bed. He smoothed Jeongin’s hair down and whispered: “Are you okay? You do feel a little warm to me. Want me to fetch the thermometer?” The younger shook his head and mumbled: “I might be a teeny tiny bit sick, but it’s fine. Don’t need to know if I have a fever or not.” – “Sick how?”, Chan frowned worriedly, cupping Jeongin’s flushed cheek. He was pretty confident that the maknae was running a temperature. “My body is one big ache”, Jeongin sniffled, closing his eyes, “And no matter how much I sleep, ‘m still exhausted.”

Chan took a seat on the edge of the bed and stroked Jeongin’s hair, humming: “I’m pretty sure you have a fever, so good thing you can take a sick day and rest as much as you need. Can I get you anything?” – “Some water please? Been kinda thirsty an’ my head hurts but the distance to the bathroom already felt so incredibly long”, the younger muttered. “Of course, I think I’ll also get you some Emergen-C. Might help giving your immune system a little boost. Do you think this is a virus you caught or is it stress induced?”, Chan inquired, his finger trailing down Jeongin’s neck to feel his lymph nodes. The maknae sleepily blinked up at him and yawned: “Could be stress induced, ‘cause it neither feels like a cold nor some kind of stomach bug. ‘m jus’ so lethargic and aching all over.”

“Do you feel like eating?”, Chan asked softly as he watched Jeongin sip his drink, “I could get you some ibuprofen once you got some food in your tummy, so we could get your fever down and maybe ease the aches and pains a little.” – “Not hungry. Think all I really need is rest”, the younger mumbled, placing his glass on the nightstand. Helping him settle back down under his blankets, Chan smiled: “Do you want me to leave you alone, so you can sleep?” Jeongin just shrugged at that. Being alone hadn’t really helped him sleep earlier, so maybe some company while he waited out his misery would be nice. “Or I could get my laptop and sit with you for a while. If you’d like that”, the leader offered, knowing his dongsaeng wouldn’t openly ask for it. When he received a tiny nod, he smiled: “Alright, be right back.”

With his headphones dangling around his neck, laptop under his arm, Chan returned to Jeongin’s room and handed the maknae an icepack. “Here, this should help bring your fever down and ease the headache a bit”, he explained, waiting for Jeongin to scoot over, so he could take a seat next to him. Getting comfortable curled up against his hyung’s side, Jeongin pressed the icepack against his forehead and sighed in relief. With how nice it felt against his flushed skin, there was no way he wasn’t running a decent fever but he hoped he'd be able to sleep it off soon.

“Are you still awake?”, Chan frowned, when the younger was still squirming an hour later. Jeongin nodded and groaned: “Can’t get comfy, everything hurts.” – “Okay”, the Aussie sighed sympathetically, “How about a bath? It might help?” – “Too much effort”, the maknae whined, making Chan chuckle. Petting his hair, the eldest teased: “Silly. You won’t even have to do anything. Let me go fill the tub, I’ll carry you there.” Before Jeongin got another chance to argue, Chan had already disappeared to the bathroom. He made sure the water would only be lukewarm, so it’d lower the boy’s fever and hopefully make it a little easier for him to rest comfortably.

“You ready, baby bread?”, Chan smiled as he tugged on Jeongin’s blanket, “Come on, hold onto my shoulders. I got you.” The younger groaned, his muscles protesting being moved. It almost felt like a bruise with how badly Chan’s touch ached but he knew it was still better that having to walk. Settling his dongsaeng on the closed toilet lid, the Aussie instructed: “Get undressed and into the water, yeah? I’ll fetch you a change of clothes. Do you want one of my hoodies?” Jeongin gave a pathetic nod and sluggishly tugged off his shirt, a borrowed hoodie enough to bribe him.

He sighed as he sank into the water. It should’ve been uncomfortable with the slight chill he had but for some reason it was soothing against his overly sensitive skin. When Chan returned to the bathroom, he placed the stack of clothes onto the sink and sat on the closed toilet lid. “Minho and Jisung are coming over later”, the leader announced, waving his phone around, “Most of the others are out but they were enjoying a quiet day and Minho was in the mood for a home cooked meal, so when they heard you’re sick, they decided to make soup.” – “’m still not hungry”, Jeongin mumbled guiltily, his heart clenching at the thought of his hyungs going out of their way for him on their day off without him even being able to really appreciate it.

Sensing that Jeongin was growing sleepy, Chan offered to wash his hair for him and steadied his shoulders as he climbed out of the tub, swaying lightly on his feet. Bundled up in a large fluffy towel, the maknae plopped down on the closed toilet lid and sniffled softly while Chan dried his hair for him. Cupping Jeongin’s cheeks, the leader cooed: “Your cheeks don’t look as flushed as they did earlier and you don’t feel as warm, so that’s good. How about a change of scenery? Do you want to lay on the couch? We could turn on the TV, so you don’t get bored if you don’t manage to fall asleep.” The younger nodded but reached up his arms, muttering: “Carry me, hyung?”

Chan got Jeongin settled on the couch with the instructions to pick a drama, while he went to collect a few blankets to bundle the boy up in. “Here, I also grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks, so your feet will stay warm. My mom warned me about catching a cold when my feet got cold. It’s probably too late for that but I doubt warm feet could hurt”, Chan rambled, throwing a blanket over the maknae’s body before sitting down at his feet to put the socks on him. Finally feeling more comfortable in his own skin, it didn’t take long for Jeongin to drift off to sleep.

When Minho and Jisung arrived at their friends’ apartment, Chan was quick to shush them with a finger against his lips and over the leader’s shoulder, Minho could see their dongsaeng asleep on the couch. “Oh, honey”, the dancer cooed as he kicked off his shoes. Jisung gave Chan a small smile and followed the Aussie to the kitchen, so he could put the pot of soup on the stove. Crouching next to the couch, Minho felt Jeongin’s forehead and frowned: “How long has he been this feverish? Oh, hey darling. I didn’t mean to wake you.” – “We already brought his temperature down quite a bit”, Chan informed, while Jeongin blearily glanced up at Minho, “He hasn’t taken any medicine yet though because I couldn’t convince him to eat.”

Hearing that, Jisung turned on the stove to heat up the soup before joining them in the living room. “Hey, Innie”, the rapper smiled plopping down on the floor next to the couch, “You’ve finally run yourself into the ground, huh?” The younger gave a sad nod and muttered: “This sucks. Just when we finally got some time off.” – “I know, lovely”, Minho shushed, stroking Jeongin’s flushed cheek, “We’ll make the best of this free day though, right? Hannie and I had planned a quiet day anyway, so our plans weren’t so different. We can just hang out together and I bet you’ll feel so much more like yourself once you’ve had some meds for that fever.” Closing his eyes, the maknae sighed before pushing himself into an upright position. “’m not hungry in the slightest, sorry”, he mumbled, “I know you cooked for me but….” – “It’s okay, baby bread”, Minho chuckled, “I didn’t think you were and I’m not expecting you to eat much. Just have a few bites so the pills won’t upset your stomach. I won’t be upset or offended if you can’t finish, I just thought forcing yourself to eat wouldn’t suck as much if it was warm soup.”

With the promise that it was okay if he couldn’t finish all of his soup, Jeongin eventually let himself be talked into eating a little. Chan was quick to supply the medicine he had set out earlier, glad that Minho could sweet-talk their dongsaeng so easily. Maybe he should’ve called the dancer sooner instead of having Jeongin suffer on his watch. Jisung helped the maknae pick out a new drama to watch together, while Chan and Minho changed the sheets on their dongsaeng’s bed. They didn’t want him having to go back to sweaty sheets later and were glad how readily he let himself be taken care of, though that in itself was a testament to how bad he must be feeling.

When the two eldest returned to the living room, they found Jeongin with his head in Jisung’s lap, the rapper gently playing with his hair. They had a drama playing but with how glossy the maknae’s eyes were, Chan doubted he was actually watching. Not having anything better to do and insisting a drama binge was his exact definition of a quiet day off, Minho settled on a bean bag next to the couch, so he could stay close to Jeongin too. Chan went to the kitchen first, preparing a tray with tea and snacks before joining his dongsaengs in the living room and settling in for a relaxing afternoon.

[strawbstixe]

sugar, butter, flour

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 3.2k (wooo!)

𝙖/𝙣: this is a cute little au where han works at a bakery with chan! (i recommend listening to "what's inside" from the musical waitress while listening to this- it really sets the mood) the intro is kinda long- im soooorrry! i love exposition...

𝙩/𝙬: slight pinning, minsung is briefly mentioned!

𝒍𝒆𝒆: han

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan

It was all muscle memory now, and Chan had known him for so long that he knew better than to trust him with the actual baking of the pastries. He was more of a "smile and wave" worker, the personality hire, if you will. Usually, Han would be up by the register, absentmindedly pressing and poking at buttons whenever there was a free moment. But now that the bakery was so empty, he had the opportunity to poke at buttons that were even more fun: Chan's. Well, not really. Han didn't mean to, at least. 

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐! ⋆୨୧⋆

Honestly, he was just trying to do his job. He was on dough duty, balling his fist into the mint green flour bowl before gently swiping his hands together. He'd take another handful, dusting the countertop lightly with flour, watching serenely as it settled on the parchment paper like freshly fallen snow. 

It was, quite literally, impossible for Han to screw this up. The scent of vanilla and butter wafted around him as he pulled the clear bowl of freshly made cookie dough Chan had made from the mini-fridge. 

It was simple enough. These cookies were preordered for some kid's birthday- or...something- Han wasn't really paying attention when the woman ordered. He just knew that she wanted star-shaped, vanilla sugar cookies with buttermilk yellow royal icing piped on top. 

This should've been quick and easy; Han had done so many cookies like this that he could practically do it in his sleep now. But...something had been off about him lately. 

Being forgetful and lost in the clouds was par for the course for Jisung. But recently, he had become even more scatterbrained: his mind always...preoccupied.  

It was his fault. 

It had all started a month ago. Han was doing what he usually did, booping random numbers on the cash register, humming a non-existent tune. 

His ears would perk up at the sound of the little bells Chan had tied to the doorframe, and when his eyes would follow, he'd be met with a man with a long coat and turtleneck, his ears red from the cold. 

It was all over for him. 

Jisung would catch himself constantly daydreaming, making fake scenarios in his head about stupid couple-y stuff. It didn't help that this guy had an amazing sense of humor- he'd come in frequently, always ordering something sweet with the most obscene messages on it. 

Han's current favorite was the "Fuck off, asshole" cake he requested a few weeks ago, and he wished he could thank him for giving him an excuse to force Chan to pipe profanities in fancy calligraphy on a cake. He'd never forget the face he made. It made his year. 

All he could do lately was think about him: this Lee Minho guy, whoever the hell he was, was crippling his ability to work properly. 

He hadn't even noticed his arms were moving. He failed to feel his legs moving. He didn't even realize that he was just...staring blankly at an empty counter, a plethora of star-shaped cookies sprawled out on the baking tray. How long had he been finished for? 

"Jisung?"

Now that his ears were actually working, he was able to hear an annoyed and somewhat concerned Chan calling his name for the umpteenth time.

"Are you alright, honey?" The 'concerned' part of Chan's mind was definitely the one taking over now. "The cookies are done cooking, Ji..." His tone was gentle, as if he was talking to a frightened child. "Did you hurt yourself-?"

"No!" Han would quickly say, swiftly turning around to meet the face that called out to him. "No, I'm-" He felt a little guilty that he worried Chan so much- and he intended to express that guilt, but the sight he was seeing right now distracted him. 

They were done? As in done done? That made no sense; he was literally just flouring his hands a minute ago. He didn't even remember putting the cookies into the oven. 

This was a prank, Han had decided. Chan must've decided that Han was drifting off too much, so he made a whole other batch of cookies to screw with him a little. That had to be it. 

As he pondered this theory, he'd inspect the cookies thoroughly. Looking for some sort of proof that would actually support this accusation. Maybe he was going crazy. 

Wait. 

"What the-?"

Something else caught his attention. He almost skipped past it- it was easy to since they weren't frosted yet. They all looked the same at first glance. But- he could've sworn he saw a-

Han let out a small "Uhhh..." in confusion, his head tilting to the left as he leaned in to get a closer look. "...Hyung? Did you make this?" 

Six heart-shaped cookies lay peacefully in the center of all the star-shaped cookies, making their own star with their formation. 

"Make what?" Chan would muse from his frosting corner, piping a dainty little birthday cake with blue buttercream. "The cookies?" He'd answer his own question after a few beats of silence. "Of course not, Jisungie, you're just being silly now." Chan would laugh. He'd laugh as if this was actually funny. As if Jisung wasn't losing his mind. 

"They're hearts-" Han would begin. He genuinely didn't know whether he should be impressed or concerned. If Chan was telling the truth, which it really sounded like he was, then that meant he had made these cookies, which made no sense to him. "Why are they hearts? And why aren't all of them hearts? Why is it only some of them-"

"Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something!" 

That statement was said way too teasey for Jisung not to take offense to it. "What are you trying to say?" Han would question, his arms crossing almost instinctively. "You're insinuating...something. I don't know if I like that you're doing that." 

"There's nothing to insinuate, Jisung. I'm just saying," His body language was nonchalant; a shrug and that bracket-shaped smile. However, that was the polar opposite of the tone coming out of his mouth; teasing and all-knowing. "Maybe your subconscious made those cookies so you could-"

"No!"

"Give them to someone?"

"Definitely not!" Han already didn't like where this was going. He hated the look Chan was giving him- and he hated how red his cheeks were getting at just the thought of that being the case. "That's crazy! You're crazy!" He felt the need to clarify that. "I don't even know him like that- I've only talked to him like...what? Seven times? I wouldn't make heart cookies for him- and even if I did- which, again, I didn't- I wouldn't give them to him! That's insane-"

"I never said his name, Jisung." Chan would muse as if this was some big 'gotcha' moment as if he had just caught Han with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. (He made the same face at him then, too.) "I never said his name," He'd repeat. "yet you knew immediately who I was talking about! I think that is insane." 

Oh shit. That was a pretty good 'gotcha' moment, huh? "I- that's not true. I was just- I was just inferring..." He'd mumble, his words slurring together as his eyes darted to the floor. Han knew he was as red as the food coloring on the shelf, and he hated it. He was only proving his point, he knew. And maybe, if he swallowed his pride for a minute, he'd be able to admit that Chan was sorta right on a couple of fronts, but even if he was right- that didn't mean anything. 

"I think you should give them to him." And despite the fact that the words 'I think' started that sentiment, it sounded more like a demand than a suggestion. 

"I think you should mind your business." Han would retort back, albeit the fact that it was under his breath, and he really didn't intend on Chan hearing it. 

"What was that?"

Han would choose to remain silent. 

"Han Jisung, what did you just say?" 

The words that were coming out of Chan's mouth scared the shit out of him. He couldn't really explain why; Chan's tone was playful. But in an odd way, it was threatening at the same time. Han decided to start walking back to his flour-dusted counter, attempting to forget this conversation ever happened. 

"Jisung. We spoke about your insubordination." 

Han's jaw would drop farther than he thought was humanly possible. "Insubord- this doesn't count! You're trying to meddle in my love life-!" He'd protest, whipping his head around. Was Chan actually insane? Did he actually drive him crazy?

"I told you that if something happened again, there'd be consequences." The word 'consequences' was horrifying on its own as it is, but the smirk that accompanied that word mortified him even more. 

"You can't make me ask out one of our customers-" Han would attempt to reason, failing to realize that they had already passed that point. "That has to be like- an OSHA violation- I could get you fired!" No, Han didn't really understand what OSHA was; he had just heard Chan use it a couple of times, so he hoped that slinging that word at him would help his case here. 

Much to his dismay, Chan would ignore him. He'd lurk towards him like a man- no- a monster on a mission. Han would attempt to run, only to realize he was corned by the counter he had rushed to a few seconds prior. He tried to reason out the worries in his head. What was the worst Chan could do anyway? He wouldn't hit him- that would be ridiculous. 

It felt like the universe was laughing at him because as soon as he thought that, Chan would crack his knuckles. What the fuck?! Was he actually gonna hit him?! Han waited for a fist to meet his face. No way this was happening right now. But, no fist ever came.

Chan would morph both of his hands into what could only be described as...claws. 

Oh fuck. Chan was going to do something worse.

"NO!" Han would scream once the realization hit. "You can't- you cannot- don't you dare!" He'd hold his hands out as a makeshift shield in an attempt to protect himself as he sunk to the floor against the counter. Chan would only inch closer.

"This is cruel! And- and unruly- you can't! I'll quit! I'll- I'll sue-!

An embarrassing loud screech would escape his lips as soon as Chan reached him, cackles immediately ripping from his throat as soon as he felt nails scratching at his sides. 

"You're not going to quit," Chan would say as if that was the important takeaway he got from Han's (not so convincing) plea. "And you're certainly not going to sue; that would just be silly." Chan couldn't even get that part of the sentiment out with a straight face, his words laced with his own chuckles.

"STAHAHAHAP THAHAHAT!" Han would attempt to dance his way out of Chan's grasp, but it was no use. If he jerked right, Chan's hands would go right. If he jerked left, Chan's hands would follow suit yet again. 

“AGH! SOMEOHOHONE," It was embarrassing how hard it was for him to breathe- especially considering Chan hadn't even been tickling him for thirty seconds yet. "SOMEONE IHIHIS GOHONNA SEEHEHEHEHEE!"

"No one is going to see, Jisung- No one is even here to see." Chan would tsk with a shake of his head. He'd notice Han's gasps for air, so he'd attempt to move spots, walking his fingers up his sides and to his ribs. "Better?"

"Nohohohoo!!" Han would whimper through his snickers. "Ihihihit stihihill- AHAHAahaack!!" Han would only get halfway through his giggle-ridden sentence before feeling a sharp taze between his ribs. "Dohohon't dohoho thahahat! Pleheheheaseee, hyuhungg!"

"Aww, how cute." And, despite the teasey nature, those words did seem genuine. "Does it really tickle that much? I'm barely even touching you!" Now the genuine nature was gone. He was just being cruel, Han decided. 

"Nohoho mohohore! Plehehease, hyuhung- pleheheheheeease! I've hahahad enohough!!" Han would plead through his hysterical giggles, his hands swatting in every direction he could possibly think of.

"You've had enough?" Chan would question, halting momentarily as he raised his brow. "Since when was it you who decided that, hm? I don't think you've had nearly enough." 

"I hahave!" Jisung would rush to reply, the giggles still clinging to his words. "I have! I HAVE! Please, I have! I swear- I've learned my lesson- I'm sorry!" The threatening obviously didn't work, so he'd choose to switch tactics. 

"Sorry?" Chan looked confused. And amused. Han could only assume that wasn't a good sign. 

"Yes!" He'd frantically nod his head, so much so that he was almost convinced it would fall off if he went any faster. "Yes! SO sorry! I'm SO sorry, hyung, really!"

"What for?" 

What for? Shit. He hadn't thought of that. 

“For…being a bad…employee…obviously..?” It was painful. He really didn’t intend it to come out as unsure as it did- it literally sounded like he was asking Chan if that was the right answer. He was so screwed. 

“Honestly,” Chan would begin, and although his tone sounded positive, his smirk said otherwise. “I didn’t want an apology to begin with. So you’re okay on that front.” 

Han let out a sigh, the biggest sigh he ever had. “Oh, thank god. So we’re good? Does that-“ 

“Oh, no.” 

What?

“I’m still going to tickle you. I’m not done. I’m just saying I don’t need- or really want an apology. That’s not what I’m looking for.” 

And before he could even react, his arms were pulled high above his head, pinning him against the counter. His eyes would widen in horror, his mouth opening to spit out the quickest and most frantic pleas his body could muster. 

“N-No! NO- please- I mean it! Whatever I did to upset you, I swear! I’ll- I’ll never do it agAHAHAHAIN-!” Those pleas were quickly interrupted by his own voice cracking, cut through by his laughter.

“STAHAHAHAHA! I CAHAHAHANT- I cahahahahan’t!” Han’s head would toss back as he tried to muster all of his energy, tugging on his own arms like his life depended on it. Thank god it didn’t because his arms weren’t going anywhere. 

Chan really was just being cruel now. With one hand being occupied with Jisung’s two hands, he’d use his free one to spider his fingers around his armpit, watching as Han screeched and cackled.

“PLEHEHEHEHASE!” Han screamed, as if Chan hearing him was part of the problem. “PLEEEHEHEHEASE! WHAAHAHAT- WHAHAHAHAT DOHO YOHOU WAHAHAHAHANT FROHOM MEHEHEHEHEEE??” He could admit, that was kind of a stupid question. He already knew. He could only hope that he was wrong, but he knew he wasn’t. 

“I want you to listen to your head.” Chan would hum, now gently swirling his finger around and around. “And your heart. You have nothing to lose here! I want you to take a chance.” 

Chan would still his fingers. Han would pant, sucking in a big breath of air. They’d stare at each other as if they were having a silent staring contest; the loser had to speak first. Chan would blink. 

“Well?” 

Han didn’t have the heart, or really the energy, to respond. His eyes would remain glued to the floor. 

“Are you going to do that?” Chan would ask. “…Or…have I been too easy on you?” 

Oh fuck. 

“H-Hyung…” Han would whimper, noticing Chan removing his hands from his arms. He’d slam them down immediately, shrinking into himself. “I…” He was scared. 

“It’s…it’s scary, Hyung…” 

“What is?” Chan would respond quickly, his face laced with concern. Oh god. Had he gone too far? That was never his intention. “The tickling? Hannie, I’m so sorry-“

Han would cut him off. “No. Not- not that,” he’d flush; he didn’t even think that would be possible at this point- he was already bright red. “Talking to him, Hyung. I…” Han didn’t want to get choked up. It was stupid. It made no sense. “…I don’t want him to laugh at me. I don’t want him to think I’m weird-“ 

“Oh, Hannie…” 

Before he knew it, his face was getting cupped. He’d stare ahead at Chan, being met with a sympathetic smile. “You are not weird. And even if you were…so what? That’s part of your charm.” His words were genuine, he could tell. 

“You think I’m charming?” That question was meant to come out more jokey than it actually did. He didn’t know why he sounded so shocked. 

“I do, yes.” Chan would chuckle. He thought that question was adorable. “I think he does too. My baking isn’t that good, Jisung. Something-“ He’d clear his throat, playfully shaking his head. “Sorry. Someone else has to be motivating him to come here so often.” 

“…And you think it’s me?” Han didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to feel that horrible feeling: looking forward to something, raising his expectations- just for them to be crushed right in front of his face. 

“I know it’s you, Jisung.” 

But when Chan spoke like that, with such conviction and confidence…how could he not believe him? Maybe Chan had actually noticed something he hadn’t, and it wasn’t like him to do something to maliciously hurt him. He wouldn’t be telling him this if he didn’t believe it. 

And as if on cue, those cute little bells tied to the door frame would chime. Han would freeze for a moment, staring at Chan like a deer in the headlights, and the “Hello?” that was called from the register in that familiar voice didn’t help things. 

Oh shit. He had spent this whole time laughing- now the heart cookies weren’t even ready. He’d look to Chan frantically, searching for answers. Luckily for him, Chan already seemed to have a plan- as he normally did. 

“Go!” He’d whisper, beginning to usher Han away. “Go talk to him! I’ll finish up the cookies. I’ll set an alarm on the oven- when it starts ringing, come back here and get the cookies.” He’d explain, grabbing a piping bag. “You know what to do then.” 

Han would nod, quickly stomping his way to the curtain separating the kitchen and the registers. But, before he could step out, he’d hesitate. 

“Hyung?” 

“Yes?” Chan would respond, already focused on the cookies in front of him. 

Han would look over his shoulder, a soft smile gracing his face. “Thank you…in advance. You know…in the case you actually are right.” 

“Of course, Jisung. Good luck.” 

Chan would watch in satisfaction as Han opened and exited out the curtain, relieved as he heard him start his normal “Hi! What can I getcha’?” spiel. He’d do great, he knew. 

Chan would put down the piping bag after a few minutes, setting the timer on the oven to two minutes. He’d spend those two minutes taking the original cookie dough batter, untouched, out of its hiding place: one of the lower shelves on the counter. The last thing he wanted to do was waste good batter! 

He’d put the clear bowl in the mini-fridge, shutting it quickly as the timer beeped. He’d grin as Han did as he was previously told to do: he’d rush in, quickly finding the small plate of six heart-shaped cookies frosted in pretty pink and red buttercream. He’d turn to Chan, giving him a quick nod and a mouthed “Thank you!” before rushing back out with the cookies in hand. 

All Chan could do was smile. He prayed this would go well. Everything had so far, at least. Besides, he knew it better than anyone else could: 

If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.  

omg omg omg!!! first fic DONE! this is a liiiittle late, so im sorry!! it just wasn’t done cooking yet! (hehe!) i hope you guys like it 🥹

[felixsramen]

Yours Truly

This is part 28 to my skz poly fic. I'm so sorry I've been gone so long. I've had a lot going on. Hopefully I'll have my other work done sometime this week of my Minsung x Chan x reader. This one's kinda short so I'll have the next part up around tomorrow sometime though.

Previous<<<< Next>>>>>

Warnings: None

You watch as you pass street by street. It crosses your mind if this was something that would continue if you were to date them. Cute little dates with each or even all of them. "What's going on in that head of yours pretty girl?" Chan asks snapping you out of your thoughts.

"She probably thinks we're going to kill her. I told Chan that we shouldn't have gone all the way out here. Of course you were going to think we were trying to kill you. What did I tell you Chan?" Minho says getting onto Chan.

Chan rolls his eyes at his boyfriends words. "I doubt she thinks we're going to kill her." Chan looks at you. "Wait don't tell me Minho is right." Chan says concerned now.

You can't help but laugh at him. "No. I didn't think you were going to kill me. Should I have thought that?" Chan shakes his head.

"Of course not. We would never jeopardize your safety." Chan says taking a glance at you. "That's good to know." You say with a smile.

"Can't promise the same for Hyunjin and Jisung though." Minho says and you can't help but laugh at that.

"It's not even that they would jeopardize your safety. It's the fact that they would jeopardize their own safety." Chan says sighing and shaking his head. You and Minho can't help but laugh at his own words.

"They're like children. If it's too quiet something is going on. Last time the house was quiet Jisung and Hyunjin thought it'd be funny to put red dye in Seungmins hair dye. Seungmin pretended they didn't exist for a week even after they had apologized after the first few hours." Chan says and you can imagine that exact thing happening making you laugh.

Minho lets out a chuckle. "I remember that. Me and Lix had to help him dye it back. He was really pissed at those two. I remember the time they decided that they were going to make a cake for Felixs birthday and almost burnt down the kitchen. The sad thing was that they were just icing the cake. To this day I still don't know how that happened." You can also imagine that. They seem to be the most chaotic out of every one.

"It's worse when they decide to try and bring the others into it." Chan says laughing.

You can't help but find it adorable when they tell stories of each other. It truly makes you feel like you're part of them. Yet at the same time you can't help but wish you were part of it.

Chan sets his hand on the glove box palm up. He glances at you giving you a small smile and you take his hand. "So cute. You guys make me want to throw myself out the car window." Minho says and you and Chan can't help but roll your eyes.

"Says the one who kissed me this morning and I quote "because you're my boyfriend and I have the privilege to kiss you whenever." Minho sighs and you can't help but laugh.

"Don't forget you slow danced with me a few days ago." You say chiming in.

"Are we sure he isn't dying? You're not dying right Minho?" Chan says teasing him but Minho glares at him. "No I am not dying. I'm perfectly fine actually. I just want to show that I care and want to be romantic sometimes." Minho grumbles out.

"I'm just joking love. I'm sorry if I upset you though." Chan says looking into the mirror. Minho shakes his head. "I'm not upset it's just embarrassing." Minho says quietly looking away.

"Don't be. We all show our love in different ways. You shouldn't be embarrassed. I love you too Min." Chan softly says before turning into a parking lot.

"I think it's cute." You say softly. A small smile frames Minho's face. "Thank you guys."

You finally look outside the window and you're met with a small shop. You go to open your door but Minho has already opened it. You can't help but smile as you get out of the car.

Minho and Chan both hold out a hand for you to take and you take both of them as they lead you into the small unfamiliar shop.

Taglist: @queenmea604 @lolareadsimagines @tinyworld14-blog @liv302 @jinniespuppy @stephy-nicole13 @freyaniobe @chansbabygirlsstuff @jkookiejiminlvr @hyuneyeon @sirenthalia @nagadiluc @tenshimara @leeknowleeknow @boi-bi-ahaha @shltsnglggles @tinystarsthing @armystay89 @baby-fairy-yas @haileybugulug @freckleboilix @im-sinking-in-mud @lmaouwu @greysweaters-blog @katrodriguez99 @3rachasninja @amararosesblog @1alesakura @m4gg13-g @vampcharxter @noellllslut @berryberrytan @junebug032 @vrslvts1 @jeongchaos @emyferra08 @stvrfir3 @feybin @mauvemelon @worcesheshestershiresauce @realrintaro @katsukis1wife @foliea @krishastumblernow @pretty-blkgirl @mrsseochangbin @cyberpunksunwoo @nobody3210

[jupitersnewmoon]

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider...Han?

Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider...Han? - Minsung Spiderman/College AU

ଳ Jisung likes to think he's very good at keeping his identity a secret but Minho can recognize that waist anywhere.

ଳ chapter 1 - Marriage Papers or a Restraining Order?

ଳ cw - depictions of v!olence, swearing, gays being gays, Jisung is kind of a stalker, light angst because I'm a wuss, hurt/comfort, no smut... unless, a little corny, minsung, chanlix, hyunbin

ଳ next chapter

“Do you think Captain America has to take ‘Music History’ when he’s not out saving the world?” Jisung grumbled as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans.

“No, but he’s also, like, a hundred years old I think,” Chan replied.

Jisung and Chan walked down the hallways of their college campus after another long and boring lecture. Despite them being in different years, Chan suggested to Jisung that he should take Music History with him his junior year so he wouldn’t suffer during his senior year like Chan is now. Definitely not because Chan didn’t want to struggle alone or anything. He just had his friend's best interest in mind.

“Who even cares about the ‘Baroque Era’ or why ‘Handel’s Messiah’ was so popular and life changing,” Jisung complained.

“George Handel s’rolling in his grave right now.” 

“Well he can Handle these nuts in his mouth! I should be training for my first big fight! Not sitting in a 2 hour long lecture about things I’ll forget next week,” he whined. 

Chan giggled and rolled his eyes while Jisung continued to complain about the lecture as they made their way to the food court. It had been roughly 4 months since Jisung became spider-man and for the most part everything was going pretty smoothly. Did he almost plummet to his death a few (many) times while he was still getting used to web swinging? He wouldn’t see why that’s important to bring up right now. 

Chan was the only one to know about Jisung’s new… abilities. Jisung really did try to keep it a secret, but Chan was getting more and more concerned about why his friend kept coming home exhausted and sometimes hurt. Plus he really wanted to show someone all the cool new things he could do. He trusted Chan with his life, he knew he could tell him anything. It was also nice to have someone helping him through all of his new changes. And Chan was way better at coming up with excuses on the spot whenever Jisung accidentally did something “spidery”. It had raised a few red flags with their friends when all of a sudden Jisung went from barely being able to bench the barbell to being able to lift twice what Changbin could like it was nothing. Chan was thankfully able to play it off, but Changbin’s ego never fully healed. 

Despite how worried Chan was about him, he knew his friend could handle whatever was thrown at him. While you wouldn’t know it through Jisung’s day to day actions, he was really smart and Chan had faith no villain was a match for the boy. But Chan didn’t have to worry too much right now. Jisung was hardly saving the world from heinous villains at the moment. The most he would do is stop a pickpocketer or help old ladies cross the street. Oh and watch one of his best friends friend go to and from school everyday. What!? It wasn’t weird, he was just making sure he made it safe! Listen, if Jisung was a villain he would totally kidnap the boy, he was far too pretty for his own good! He wasn’t a stalker, he was like a guardian angel. 

The 2 boys walked into the food court and looked for their friends. It had become tradition for their little group to eat together every Monday after they were done with lectures and before Felix had dance practice. Chan and Jisung followed the sound of Changbin and Felix’s laughs and made their way to the table.

“Hey guys!” Felix beamed at the two.

Maybe if Jisung wasn’t so focused on the unfamiliar person sitting at their table, he would’ve made fun of the way Chan immediately seemed to melt just by Felix saying hello. 

Jisung looked to Chan and glanced in the stranger's direction and gave Chan a questioning look. Chan just shrugged his shoulders and the two sat down in front of the three boys. 

“How was music history?” Changbin asked with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Please don’t get Ji started. If I have to hear him complain about that damn class one more time I’m going to be joining famous German-British composer George Frideric Handel in his grave,” Chan grumbled, taking out both his and Jisungs lunches. Ever since high school Jisung has had a habit of finishing his food before he makes it to lunch, so Chan has always packed extra for him. 

Changbin leaned to the side and cackled, understanding the reference as he had taken the class last year. Jisung turned to Chan and faked a face of pure betrayal, mouth agape and eyes widened.

“I thought you were on my side!” Jisung shrieked.

“A man can only take so many ‘Handel these nuts in your mouth’ or ‘Handel this dick in your ass’ before it starts taking a toll on your mental and physical health.”

“Why are you hating, I’m hilarious!”

“Okay okay,” Felix butts in, “please refrain from speaking about male genitalia in varying holes at the dinner table. Especially in front of Innie.”

Jisung and Chan both turned to look at the boy they had completely forgotten about during their argument. The boy stared at them trying to bite back a smile at their interaction. 

“Hi I’m Jeongin, a friend of Felix’s from dance! It’s nice to meet you both!” Jeongin smiled and put his hand out for them to shake.

“Hey I’m Chan, it’s nice to meet you too.” He took the boy's hand in his own. “And this is Jisung.” Chan nodded his head in his direction. 

Jisung shook Jeongin’s hand and smiled at him. He was grateful that Chan took the lead on their introduction. Jisung was always quieter in front of new people, especially ones who heard him defend himself about making inappropriate jokes about a dead composer. First impressions are important and this was definitely a way for Jeongin to get to know him. 

“Innie recently joined our dance class and he’s been killing it so far!” Felix exclaimed excitedly as he put his hand on Jeongins shoulder, looking like a proud mother.

“Ah, I don’t know about killing it, but it’s been a lot of fun getting to know everyone! Jeongin replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh don’t be so humble! I think I saw Minho start to tear up when he saw you dance! It’s been so long since we’ve seen someone with your kind of talent Innie!”

Jisung’s head snapped up at the mention of Minho’s name. Changbin looked at Jisung with a downwards smile and a tilt in his brow. Jisung glared at the older boy in an intimidating way. Well as intimidating as he could get with his cheeks full of food. Changbin tried his best to suppress a silent laugh and Jisung kicked his leg underneath the table. He realized too late what he had done when Changbin howled out in pain and dramatically grabbed his leg feigning a look of pure pain and anguish. 

“Yah, Jisung! What was that for!?” Changbin hollered, shin in hand and a grin on his face.

“Just felt right,” Jisung pouted and filled his cheeks with more food. 

Felix and Jeongin looked at Jisung confusingly but before they could question him Chan interrupted. 

“So Felix, Jeongin, are you guys excited for your first showcase of the year?” 

While the boys discuss the upcoming showcase Jisung’s mind starts to drift. And because Jisung is a weak weak man, he starts thinking about his favorite pretty boy. Jisung doesn’t know what it is about Minho that has him so enraptured, but Minho has Jisung wrapped around his finger and he has no idea.

What Jisung thinks is the most pathetic about what most people would call ‘obsession’ but he likes to refer to it as a ‘special interest', is that he and Minho have never actually officially met before. Despite the fact that Minho and Felix live together, the stars have never aligned to where Minho is home at the same time as Jisung comes over. Jisung used to think it was karma for the thousands he must've slaughtered in a past life to always just miss meeting the guy, but Jisung knows now that it was actually the universe sparring him. Jisung really isn’t all that bad at flirting, but he knows damn well he would fold like a lawn chair if Minho even glanced in his direction. And to Changbin and Chan’s utmost despair, they now have to hear Jisung complain and yearn for the man but will under no circumstances ever EVER introduce himself. Jisung tells them that he will work up the confidence one day but it's been two years now and absolutely no progress has been made. But if you ask Jisung he thinks he’s getting somewhere! He used to hide on tops of buildings whenever he “escorts” Minho home safely, but now he’ll hide in an alley and they’ll be like 8 feet apart instead of like 20! Give him like 2 more years and he’ll walk by him one day and maybe even give him a little nod in passing. Slowburn has always been one of Jisung’s favorite genres, he’s doing it for the romance of it all! NOT because he’s a pussy, no matter what Changbin says. 

Jisung is snapped out of his daze when he hears his name being called. 

“Sorry huh?” Jisung asks, tilting his head.

“I asked if you’re excited to watch the showcase in a few weeks?!” Felix asks again, not too concerned about his friend's usual spacey behavior.

“Duh! You guys kill it every time! It’s always a pleasure to watch such beauty and magnificence grace the stage!” Jisung replies dramatically in almost a British like accent.

Felix laughs and reaches across the table to playfully smack Jisungs hand.

“Well I’m glad you’re excited. You 3 should actually be even more excited since you guys are formally invited to the after party this year!” Felix exclaimed.

“Since when do you guys do after parties?” Changbin questioned.

“Well we usually don’t but because it’s Minho's last first showcase we wanted to celebrate!”

The 3 boys nodded understanding of their reasoning, even if they knew it was more likely just an excuse to get blacked out after a grueling few months of preparation for the showcase. 

“I’ll send you guys the deets when it gets closer! But for now Innie and I should get going!” Felix said while he and Jeongin stood up from the table.

 “Same time next week?” Chan joked while he watched Felix leave, with an almost longing look on his face.

“You know it,” Felix replied, winking at Chan.

 Changbin and Jisung giggled while Chan malfunctioned at the boys actions. 

“Bye Jeongin, it was nice to meet you!” Changbin called out while they got further away.

Jeongin turned and flashed him a smile and waved at the group. The boys returned his wave and continued eating their food.

After Chan rebooted and came back to life, he turned to Jisung with a menacing smirk. 

“So Ji, are you excited for the party?” Chan asked innocently.

“Well the fact that people will be there kinda sucks, but the alcohol and food will surely make up for it,” Jisung stated obviously.

“Hmm, is that all you're excited about?” Chan questioned.

Jisung looked at him suspiciously and nodded his head hesitantly, taking a bite of his food.

“Awe, can’t believe your resident pretty boy didn’t even make it on the list,” Chan fakes a saddened look, “how would he feel knowing you’re not exhilarated to meet him officially.”

Jisung’s whole world comes to a complete stop as he drops his fork on his plate. Jisung sits there like a deer frozen in headlights while Chan and Changbin holler out laughter. 

The fact that Jisung would be at a party in an enclosed space with the person he’s been obsessing over, or, specially interested in, didn’t even cross his mind. The party was supposedly specifically for Minho too. Felix had been dying to get Minho and Jisung to meet but he was able to avoid it everytime, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid him at his own party. 

“Oh my god Ji you are so fucked!” Changbin laughed.

“Have some faith in the boy!” Chan teased, “maybe he’ll finally work up the courage to look him in the eye!”

Jisung put his head in his hands and groaned.

“There is no way I can go to that party and make it out alive,” Jisung grumbled into his hands.

“Hmm, well you could always not go, But you’re gonna have to give Lix a reallllyyy good reason,” Chan evilly smirked, “like telling him the truth.”

“NO! Absolutely NOT!” Jisung shrieked, “I love Lix with all my heart but that boy can not keep a secret to save his life! Plus he’ll try to play cupid and get us together. Which will end horribly because everytime I’m in the same room with him I forget how to function!”

“I know it’s really pathetic,” Changbin replied nonchalantly.

“Oh I know YOU’RE not talking!” Jisung pointed accusingly at the boy.

“Yah! At least I can talk to Hyunjin! You damn near explode anytime Minho's name is even mentioned!” Changbin replied in return, already knowing whom Jisung was referring to. 

“At least I don’t have plans to propose to Min the first time I ever meet him!”

“You just don’t know how to seduce people! You can hate all you want but I made an impression on Jinnie and he eats up my affection! I expect him to send the marriage papers any day now!”

“The only papers you’re getting is a restraining order!” 

“Alright you two calm down, it's really not that serious,” Chan said trying to reason with them.

“Oh I know damn well you don’t want to get involved in this, you’re the worst out of all of us,” Changbin warns.

Chan raises his hands in surrender and shovels food into his mouth minding his business. 

“Don't worry Jisungie, we’ll make you look all pretty and use you as a gift to Minho for doing so well,” Changbin teased.

Jisung’s face turned a deep shade of red as he put his head on the table and groaned.

“Come on kid you can sulk later, we gotta get you to your next class,” Chan giggled as he rubbed Jisung’s back comfortingly. 

Chan and Changbin walked a moping Jisung to his class. Chan warned the boy to pay attention as he knew Jisung would most likely stress over a party that doesn’t even have a date yet instead of listening to the lecture. 

“See you at home, have a good day at school baby, I love you”, Changbin teased like a mother dropping her child off on the first day of school. 

Jisung flipped him off and walked into the room while Chan laughed at the duo's antics. 

It’s safe to say Jisung did not listen to a single thing his professor said. The first half of class was spent anxiously wondering how he was supposed to act normal in front of Minho when Felix would inevitably introduce them at the party. Jisung hasn’t even made eye contact with the boy and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t survive it. He knows Minho is a normal guy just like everyone else but he has built up so much anticipation in his head about their first meeting he’s driven himself crazy. Minho is no longer just a normal man, he’s another entity entirely. Someone from a different planet. An otherworldly creature whose origins could probably be traced back to Venus. The planet of love, beauty and desire. That’s the only place Jisung could imagine someone like him coming from. Jisung gave Minho the title of ‘pretty boy’ because describing someone who probably doesn’t even know of his existence as pulchritudinous seemed a little insane. The first time Jisung saw Minho he googled ‘words stronger than beautiful’ and that one seemed the most dramatic which is exactly how Jisung feels for him, dramatically. 

The second half of class was spent with Jisung thinking about if he were to go, what would he even wear? Jisung’s closet is every wannabe skater boy's wet dream which he adores, however the baggy clothes do nothing for his figure. Jisung has a waist that would put any Disney princess to shame and the only outfit that does it justice is his spidey suit. Has it crossed his mind to put the suit on and hype himself up to Minho before he officially meets him? Maybe. Jisungs thought process was that if Minho heard how cool Jisung was from a reliable source then he would have a better chance of making the boy swoon. And who’s more reliable than a friendly neighborhood spider-man? 

While Jisung was debating his outfit options, something that Changbin had mentioned hit him like a truck. ‘Don't worry Jisungie, we’ll make you look all pretty and use you as a gift to Minho for doing so well.’ That sentence made his thoughts spiral even more. Could Minho see Jisung and think of him as pretty? As a gift? Oh no, now Jisung needs to make sure he looks his best for their first interaction. He needs to make sure the first time Minho see’s him he can hear the wedding bells start ringing. No pressure or anything. 

As his lecture comes to an end Jisung has decided that he can get through his first ever meeting with Minho. He may just need a little help from Felix and his beautifying abilities and a good amount of alcohol. Jisung exits class with a little more pep in his step and his head held high. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in him that controlled his brain and heart, but he was gonna make the love at first sight trope happen like his life depended on it. And if you asked him, his life did depend on it. Jisung knows for certain that if he doesn’t implode the second he gets within 2 feet of Minho, they will fall in love and be together for the rest of their lives. How could he possibly be so certain about this? His spidey sense of course. It allows him to sense potential danger and apparently soulmates. Jisung would describe his spidey sense like alarm bells going off whenever danger is near, but when he sees Minho, you could say he hears wedding bells. Or maybe the sleepless nights and constant yearning have finally caught up to him and he’s finally lost his mind. A boy can only take so much pinning before it starts rotting your mind of all sanity. But if Minho is the last thing Jisung thinks of before he loses all sense of reality, he wouldn’t mind it much. What a pulchritudinous final thought. 

Jisung makes his way out of the building and starts heading in the direction of the dance studio. On Monday’s, Jisung’s class ends a few minutes before the dancers usually leave the studio after practice. Sometimes Minho stays later to get extra practice in but Jisung doesn’t mind waiting. Obviously not if he’s willing to wait 2 years to even introduce himself but that’s not important right now. 

Jisung sometimes thinks about how creepy it would seem to someone if they knew what he was doing but he really doesn’t see the harm in it! He’s just making sure a civilian get’s home safe! That’s his job! Granted maybe he wouldn’t get employee of the month for only ever escorting the same civilian home but who would blame him? 

While Jisung is deep in thought over if it was hypocritical to tell Changbin he would get a restraining order for proposing to Hyunjin when he’s the one basically stalking Minho, he feels a slight tingle ripple through his body. Jisung halts his movements and tunes into himself, waiting. A few moments later he feels the same tingle ripple through his body but this time it’s much more powerful than the last. His spidey sense. The metaphorical alarm bells are ringing and Jisung knows it’s time to go. He lets his body take control as he runs towards the danger. He looks back at the dance studio and sighs. He’s sure Minho will make it home safe on his own, but this is the only time he gets to see the boy so excuse him for experiencing some withdrawals. 

Jisung weaves through the people on campus and runs in the direction of the city. As he sprints into the streets he can start to hear people screaming in the distance. Jisung tunes in and listens for any clues on what could possibly be happening. He hears the sounds of what seems to be cars being thrown into buildings, the shattering of glass, and a strange mechanical whirring. It’s left him with more questions than answers but one thing is for certain. This isn’t just some petty crime, this is a real attack. 

Jisung runs into an alleyway and changes into his spider suit. Jisung originally wore a red hoodie and some old blue sweatpants but with the help of Chan he was able to make a much cooler and safer suit. He throws his backpack and clothes behind a trash can and runs back into the streets. He runs a few feet down the block before he makes a b-line for a car coming his way. Jisung lets out a shaky exhale and shakes out his hands attempting to calm his nerves. This is the first real villain Jisung has ever fought and despite the anxiety that riddles his entire being, adrenaline slowly starts to take over. Finally his first chance to prove himself, he’s not going to blow it.

When the car draws near, Jisung runs up the hood of the car and onto its roof. From there he jumps and slings his web to the nearest building. Jisung starts swinging through the city as his body guides him to the chaos. He’s incredibly thankful he spent all that time practicing swinging, now would be a bad time to fall thousands of feet in the air.

As Jisung gets closer to the mayhem, he can start hearing more and more. Cars honking, the heavy breathing coming from people running for their lives, metal crashing into each other, but one thing stands out amongst the rest. He can hear the distant wail of a man screeching a name. 

He can barely make it out through all the commotion going on. Rory? No, no not that. He focuses hard on the man's shrill voice. 

“Rosie?” Jisung whispers to himself. 

Before Jisung can think anything of the name, something catches his eye. A red honda civic starts hurtling towards him. Jisung maneuvers his body out of the way and lands back on the ground. He looks around for the man but can’t see anything other than absolute destruction around him. Jisung is baffled at the scenery in front of him. It didn’t take him longer than 15 minutes to get to the heart of the city and yet there is already so much damage. Whatever was causing this was powerful. 

Jisung catapults himself down the street looking for the threat. His eyes scan over the roofs of buildings and the streets below but he can’t seem to find the cause of all this destruction. Jisung grows more and more frustrated as he can’t seem to find the source. The loud crashing of cars and almost deafening screams are starting to become too much for him. 

Even before Jisung gained enhanced hearing he never really enjoyed being around loud sounds or crowded places. He would get overstimulated quickly and now with his powers it seemed to only get worse. But Jisung knew he had to push the overwhelming feeling aside and focus on the job at hand.  

After what felt like hours of web slinging, Jisung saw a woman with her arms held tightly around her limp body. She wore a lab coat that was covered in blood and shards of glass. Jisung knew if he left her there she would die quickly so he landed and fell to his knees in front of her shaking form. 

“Ma’am are you okay, can you hear me?” Jisung frantically questions, gently placing his hands on one of the very few spots on her arms that wasn’t covered in blood.

This jolts the woman seemling back to life as her eyes shoot open and gasps for air. She looks around frantically and after a few seconds finally seems to take notice of the boy in front of her. 

“No please you need to leave he, he’s gone insane you need to run!” The woman barely chokes out.

“Who’s he? Who’s gone insane?”

“Dr.O-Octavius, he built something, but, but it-” Before the woman could finish her sentence her eyes slowly shut and she went limp in Jisungs hold.

Before Jisung could even comprehend what had happened another car came flying just a few feet above his head. Jisung gently lets go of the woman and shoots up from his place on the ground. The sound of mechanical whirring is much closer so he follows it without a second thought. 

His heart is beating so loudly he’s pretty sure it’s going to burst his ear drums at any moment. He’s been wanting a real fight so bad for months but now that it’s happening he’s not so sure. Maybe it was the woman dying in his arms that sobered him up but Jisung is now afraid that he might not be good enough to win this. The image of the woman’s passing flashes through his head but Jisung quickly shakes the thought away. He’ll just have to deal with the aftermath of that later.

Jisung can feel that he’s getting closer to whoever this Dr.Octavius is and the adrenaline starts coursing through his body once again. The screams have almost completely subsided now and he would usually enjoy the quiet but Jisung misses the noise now more than ever. At least when they’re screaming they’re still alive. 

Jisung rounds the corner of the building and finally sees the man causing all this terror. He lands back on the ground and immediately starts running toward the man who lets out an anguished cry. 

“ROSIE WHERE ARE YOU?” He screeched as he picked up another car with one of his mechanical tentacles and threw it towards a building.

Jisung assessed the situation as best as he could with what little time he had. Chan always told him to look for the best in people and while he could tell the man was clearly in pain and looking for someone he was also causing mass destruction and probably killing hundreds. He wanted to give the man the benefit of the doubt and believe that he was just acting out because he lost someone he truly loved but he was far too great of a threat to try and have an impromptu therapy session unconstricted. Jisung knew he had to get the man confined so he could try and talk to him without his life being on the line so he started to think of a plan. The man seemed to be just a normal, well, man and his biggest threat were the four mechanical tentacles that protruded from his back. Jisung knew if he wanted to get close to him he had to get the tentacles under control. He figured he could use his webs to trap the tentacles in sort of a spiderweb and that should be able to hold him off long enough to try and understand what he was doing. It wasn’t until Jisung came just a few feet from the man that it finally hit him. 

Oh my god that man has robot tentacles. 

Where the fuck did he get robot tentacles? Why did he not get robot tentacles? He wanted robot tentacles. 

Jisung’s thoughts ended abruptly when yet another car whizzed past him. Many thoughts were already racing through his mind but one stood out amongst the rest. 

He really hoped these people had good car insurance. 

The man, presumably Dr.Octavius, had taken notice of Jisung and was gearing up to fight him. Jisung knew any sort of conversation would most likely fall on deaf ears as the doctor seemed hysterical so instead of trying to reason with him Jisung kicked off the nearest wall and swung into action.

Jisung looped around the doctor and shot his webs at the tentacles trying to get them stuck together. But with every web he shot, the man was able to pry his way out of them. The tentacles were far stronger then Jisung had anticipated and if his webs couldn’t hold him down then Jisung and the city were in big trouble.

With a new idea in mind Jisung began scaling the side of a nearby office building and just as he hoped, the doctor followed him up. Jisung climbed gracefully up the building while the doctor's mechanical appendages rammed their way into the side of the building, completely destroying the property value. 

As they made their way up the tall building the doctor used the other tentacles that weren’t helping him climb to try and pierce Jisung. Jisung weaved side to side avoiding the doctor's blows. The amount of force that the appendages were using to try and pierce Jisung caused the building's structure to rattle with each hit. Due to the vibrations Jisung started to lose his grip and he knew if they continued like this he would either fall or get struck. 

As they were nearing the top of the building Jisung saw a giant hole in the building just a few feet ahead. It looked like some kind of explosion had completely taken the wall out. He decided to take his chances and headed towards the opening, hoping to find a better way to get the man under control. 

Jisung hurried into the hole and catapulted himself to the other side of the room creating distance between himself and the madman. Dr.Octavius soon follows him through but stays on the other side of what seems to be a destroyed lab. The doctor mournfully looks around the room and sighs.

“Why are you doing this?” Jisung questions carefully not wanting to anger the man further.

The doctor looks at Jisung regretfully and lets out a shaky exhale.

“This is all my fault.” The doctor whispers.

Jisung stays quiet, silently urging the man to go on.

“I just, I just wanted to build something that could fuel the world. A source so powerful it could rival the sun. A sustainable fusion power reactor. But it wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready and yet I still powered it up. And look where it got me. I lost everything and now look like the monster I am.”

Jisung stood there and listened to him explain. He wanted to interrupt and say he thought the tentacles were badass but he figured it wasn’t the right time. 

“The reactor malfunctioned and my wife, she was there and now I can’t find her and and the tentacles are fused with me but seem to have a mind of their own and it feels like I’m losing control and-” 

Jisung could tell the man was about to become hysterical again and not wanting him to cause another scene he interrupts his rambling.

“Hey look it’s okay. You obviously didn’t mean for any of this to happen. There’s nothing we can do to change what has already happened but we can figure out where to go from here. You said you lost your wife? I’m sure she couldn’t have gone very far, maybe she evacuated to somewhere safe.”

‘To get away from you destroying the city’, Jisung added in his head. 

“I need to make sure she’s okay, that she’s still alive.”

“Okay okay we can do that. But you can’t tear the whole city to shreds. That’ll only make things worse.”

The doctor nodded his head and Jisung let out a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn’t too bad at this whole superhero thing. Hunt down the bad guy, run from the bad guy, give said bad guy some life changing advice, this was a piece of cake.

“Great, now what does your wife look like?” Jisung questioned.

“She’s about 5’8, long brunette hair, and she’s probably still wearing her lab coat,” the doctor explains.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Jisung knew exactly where his wife was, she died in his arms not very long ago. 

Jisung stood there silent for a few seconds not knowing what to do. He figured he had two options. He could not tell him and let him figure it out when they came across her dead body, which would lead to another outburst. Or he could tell him now and, well,  have it lead to another outburst. Either way this was going to end unfavorably for everyone. If the doctor was tearing shit up when he thought she was alive, he couldn’t imagine the damage he would do knowing he had nothing left to lose. 

“Is everything okay?” the doctor questioned.

“I think I know where your wife is,” Jisung whispered, head bowed. 

Dr.Octavius stared at the boy quizzically for a few moments trying to decipher why Jisungs mood had changed so quickly. The boy had gone from incredibly enthusiastic despite his obvious nerves to dull and somber just by mentioning his… wife.

Octavius’ eyes darkened.

“Where is she?” He gritted out.

“I really don’t think you want to know-” Jisung tried to explain but was quickly interrupted. 

“WHERE IS SHE?” the doctor roared.

“Listen, I really don’t think you should see her when you’re like this-” 

“WHY ARE YOU KEEPING HER FROM ME?”

“I am not trying to keep her from you but you have to understand that-”

Jisung was cut off again by the doctor fastly approaching him. Jisung swung out of the way just in time as the tentacles tried to capture him.

“BRING ME TO HER!” the doctor boomed.

“Trust me you really don’t want me to-” Jisung yelps, moving out of the way as a desk comes flying at him. “Okay you REALLY need to stop fucking throwing things at mE!” He exclaims running away from yet another flying object.

“TELL ME WHERE SHE IS NOW!” Dr.Octavius yelled, redying another desk to throw at the boy.

“FINE SHE’S ON EAST 2ND STREET NOW WILL YOU PLEASE PUT THE DESK DOWN!” Jisung shouted.

Dr.Octavius turned and left without another word and Jisung followed close behind. Maybe he should’ve mentioned she was dead before he told him her location but damn was Jisung tired of getting shit thrown at him today. 

They made their way down the streets of the damaged city. The doctor stayed on the ground sprinting while Jisung swung a few feet above him. The sun was starting to set and Ji briefly wondered if Minho had made it home safe or not. He figured Min most likely took one look at the news and decided to stay somewhere else for the night as he lived deeper in the city, which was now covered in broken glass and upside down cars. Jisung started debating whether or not he should try and find him to make sure he was okay wherever he had decided to stay. To make sure a citizen was okay of course, not because he was pretty sure half the reason he was shaking was his body's reaction to not seeing him for so long (22 hours, but who’s counting). 

As they both neared the street where Rosie laid, the sound of distant sirens could be heard echoing through the now almost deserted city. Jisung tried to focus on the sound to distract himself from the bile that seemed to make its way up his throat. The idea of going back to that street, that place, and seeing a woman he wasn’t able to save was nothing short of nauseating. There was really nothing Jisung could’ve done to save the woman, she wouldn’t have made it to a hospital and even if she did, her condition was so horrible she probably wouldn’t have survived the night. But still, he felt like it was his fault. Like maybe if he had gotten there faster he could’ve done something to save her. Or maybe if he had done his job a little better he could have noticed someone building a nuclear fucking reactor and stopped it before they had a chance to finish building it. 

But Jisung didn’t do any of that. He failed before he even had the chance to try and succeed. This wasn’t his one and only opportunity to prove himself, the opportunity was there all along, he was just too busy moping to see it. 

Jisung’s entire body tightened as they turned down the street. The sign that read ‘East 2nd Street’ seemed to laugh at him. To mock him for not being good enough. He swore the buildings were taunting him, calling him names. He not only couldn’t save Rosie, but he also couldn't save Octavius. Rosie may have been the one to die, but the doctor was the one who would have to live without her. Which was arguably worse. 

Jisung landed a few feet behind the doctor to give him space as they neared her. He hung his head low and waited for Octavious to cry out in pain. To scream until his throat tore into two. But there was nothing. There was no yelling, no wails, just the sirens creeping closer. 

Jisung slowly lifted his head to look at the two. The doctor was knelt hunched over his beloved cradling her in his arms. Silent tears streamed down the man's face. His body shook slightly from the silent sobs that wracked through his body. 

All Jisung felt was guilt. A true hero would have been able to save her and in turn save him too. But without so much as raising his fist, he managed to kill them both. 

The doctor slowly turned his head toward the boy.

“This is all your fault,” the doctor spat. 

Logically Jisung knew this wasn’t true. Octavius built the faulty reactor. Octavius was the one to set off the reactor. And Octavius was the one who drove his wife to run away wounded and bleeding. Jisung knew the doctor just couldn’t take accountability for what he had done. That he just needed someone else to blame. Rosie was the last thing that made the doctor feel human and now that she was gone what was left of him? Dr.Octavius was now a shell of a once great man who lost everything. He had nothing left to live for.

And maybe that’s why Jisung replied, “I know.”

But Jisung was wrong. Octavius did have something to live for, revenge. 

The mechanical tentacles slam into the ground one by one as they lift Octavius into the air. With one last look at his beloved lying dead on the concrete he turns toward Jisung. There is now a dark sinister look in the man’s eyes. Any trace of solemn has vanished into thin air and was now replaced by the overbearing primal urge to slaughter. With each step the tentacles took toward Jisung the human side of the man seemed to dissipate the further he got away from Rosie. If the doctor was a bitch to deal with when he had something to lose, Jisung was really going to be in for it now. 

Jisung turned and started web swinging down the streets of the city. He knew if it really came down to it he had a good chance of defeating the doctor but Jisung didn’t really want anymore blood on his hands today, so he swung in the direction of the sirens. He figured there had to be at least 30 or so cop cars headed in his direction and while him and the police don’t exactly see eye to eye they could at least help sedate the crazed man. 

The doctor is screaming insults and profanities at Jisung as they make their way towards the sirens. Ji is sure he’d be offended by whatever the doctor is spewing behind him but his heart is beating so loud he can barely hear anything else, which is probably for the best. 

The way Jisung is swinging and maneuvering around and over the buildings is truly a sight. He hasn’t exactly been paying attention to where he was in the city, just trying his best to meet the police in the middle. He skillfully navigates through the streets like he’s done this a million times before, and he’s starting to think maybe he has. 

Jisung takes in his surroundings and before he can even react he feels a rush go through his body. His spider sense has obviously been kicked into full gear this entire time because well there is a revenge driven mad scientist trying to kill him. But this wasn’t his usual spidey sense. 

Jisung glances at the buildings he's using as momentum to keep swinging and they’re starting to become more and more familiar. Jisungs heart just about falls out of his ass when he sees a familiar apartment coming into view. 

And then his heart goes from his ass straight down to hell when the alarm bells start to get drowned out by a choir of wedding bells. Usually Jisung accepts this symphony with open arms but his world is ready to explode into pieces when he sees a boy with brown hair standing outside of his apartment. 

Minho. 

A/N

thank you so much for reading the first chapter! the next chapter should be out soon!! this is only the second fic i’ve ever written so i hope it’s coherent enough! thank you for reading and i’ll see you soon! ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅