#I’m really hoping there’s more to see what this can turn into especially since the comic itself changed over time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ahundredtimesover · 6 months ago

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Hold Me Closer | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. brother Jimin)

Genre/Tags: brother’s best friends au; slight angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption; kitchen emergency; eldest child feels, adulting; explicit sexual content (making out, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex but be safe please!); Seven JK (18+)

Word count: 19.2k

Read Part 1: Hold Me Close

Summary: When you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up... Not if your brother can help it, though.

Listen to 🎵: Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional

Playlist 🎶: High School Playlist

A/N 1: I know I said I’d be on a break but I reread Hold Me Close and found comfort in this Jungkook 🥹 so I went ahead and wrote this little piece! Whipped and comforting boyfriend JK is what I needed so I hope you enjoy this 💕

Six - the number of work calls you’ve already taken in the last hour, with each one of them lasting one whole song. Jungkook calculates that you’ve spent half of the entire drive since leaving Seoul talking with your boss about some report that he somehow can’t complete without you, which sucks because Jungkook was really looking forward to this road trip with you and his best friend.

You groan after you hang up and the clackity clack of the keyboard continues. He was hoping to hold your hand while he drove and maybe sing with you some of your favorite songs that he put on but it doesn’t seem like those will happen anytime soon. You’re immersed in your work but he guesses you have to be; the sooner this ends, the sooner your focus will be on him and this present moment.

He finds the positive side of it at least. He gets to listen to you explain things - why the numbers are what they are, what targets you reached, and what risks you managed. It’s quite silly but it’s kind of a turn on, hearing you talk about something you know like the back of your hand, pretty much proving to your crap of a boss how good you are at your job and why you’re an asset to the company. You know your shit, and you have a classy way of making sure they know that you do.

Six calls, and Jungkook already knows half of your project report. And perhaps he’ll know more, as the seventh one comes.

You let it ring for one, two, three times, as you hold your phone in one hand while you continue to type away with the other.

“I swear to god, ___. If you don’t pick that up, I’m gonna throw your phone out of this car,” Jimin, who’s comfortably seated in the backseat, growls.

The dramatics is understandable because one, it’s Jimin and two, the constant ringing is a little bit much.

“___, I’m not fucking kiddi—”

“Hello, sir,” you finally answer, then proceed to discuss this month’s analytics and projections for the succeeding quarter.

Jungkook predicts it’s gonna take you another whole song to finish, so he instead focuses on the road and appreciates the clear skies and familiar scenery of the drive to Busan. His thoughts go to how these next several days are gonna go. There’s visiting your favorite spots growing up, going to a resort, staying in to eat and play video games, and of course, cuddling with you in your room, as you and Jimin will have your parents’ house to yourselves once they leave for their anniversary trip in two days.

His musings are disrupted though, when he looks at the rear view mirror and sees Jimin’s annoyed face blocking his view. Jungkook can’t help but laugh, especially when he hears his best friend grumbling complaints just behind him.

“Leave her be, she’ll be done soon,” Jungkook dismisses him. “They sound like important stuff.”

“She’s talking so loudly!” Jimin groans. “I just want to reminisce and sing along to our teenage emo music, Kook.”

Jungkook turns the music off.

“There, I paused it. You can sing along once she’s done speaking on the phone,” he says.

Jimin pouts in response. “You always take her side. You weren’t like this when we were kids.”

“Well, if it means anything, I always took her side. I just never told you,” Jungkook laughs.

“Traitor.”

“I’m literally your most loyal friend.”

It’s a statement that Jimin can’t counter. Jungkook is his most loyal friend. And the most supportive. And the most dependable. And definitely the one who’s never left his side.

When Jimin casually told their group that he likes girls and boys, Jungkook was the only one who didn’t need time to “warm up to the idea.” Jungkook was also the only one who never disappeared whenever he had a girlfriend. He was also the one who never missed a single one of Jimin’s dance showcases in college and professional shows.

And of course, Jungkook was the one friend who took up his offer to drink that Friday afternoon, resulting in that infamous gutter incident - as you like to call it - and his subsequent unemployment and homelessness. While you, his beloved sister, were there to pick up the pieces, so was Jungkook, the way he promised he would after they became friends at 10 years old.

Those months when Jimin was heartbroken and unsure of what he was going to do with his life, his best friend was there to make sure that he wasn’t going to lose his drive and love for dancing. His best friend is also the one constantly cheering him up about this long-distance relationship that he decided to have with Taehyung while others continue to be a skeptic.

Jungkook is that friend, and Jimin supposes he can forgive the other man every time he sides with you.

Jimin is about to complain again when you put the phone down and make one of your restrained cries. He pities you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he wishes you wouldn’t be doing your work stuff while you’re on a trip of what’s supposed to be a mini-break.

“I don’t get why you don’t pick up after the first ring,” he huffs.

“It’s so Mr. Soo knows that I’m not easily available,” you say.

“But you are. You answer it anyway,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m gonna answer it anyway. Might as well make him wait for it because he needs me,” you point out. “It’s bad enough that he’s calling while I’m taking the leave he approved, so I’m just pissing him off. He doesn’t know I changed the prompt to leave me a voice message to an annoying song so he’ll have to sit through it to get to me. I already know it’s getting on his nerves.”

“Ooh, petty. I like that,” Jimin hums.

“I know. I got that from you,” you proudly smile.

“But why are you even working?” He whines, your brother’s tone more of pity than annoyance. “It totally defeats the purpose of a leave. And you shouldn’t be indulging him!”

“Well, Mr. Soo approved this leave thinking that Chul would help him craft this report, which is based on the project that I proposed, only to realize that he doesn’t know shit about it because I wrote everything, and he just took the credit,” you explain. “I don’t want to be doing this, too, but I also just took the chance to show who’s driving the wheel, and it’s definitely me. Plus, I worked hard for that project. Working on the report at least gives me a chance to give myself credit for it.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right,” Jimin concedes. “Your voice is just so loud.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to match his tone,” you say. “But he’ll be in a meeting for the next hour or so and he probably won’t need me again until then. You can turn the music back on.”

“Ugh, thank god,” Jimin groans again. “I missed my favorite song.”

He leans forward and squeezes himself in the small space between you and Jungkook. The proximity causes Jimin to smack his elbow on your face, which you know is intended, considering how much of a brat he is. So you do what you always do - flick the back of his head.

He yells but gets over it once he manages to press the rewind button and plays the song he’s been wanting to hear. You haven’t been paying attention throughout the drive and hadn’t even known what they were listening to, but once the music comes on, a wave of nostalgia hits you.

You take the CD case you see in the compartment and scan the song list.

“Dashboard Confessional?” You read out. “Mayday Parade? Something Corporate?”

You go through 2 other CDs and look at both men questioningly.

“These are literally plucked out of my high school playlist that I illegally downloaded,” you state, given that music streaming sites weren’t a thing over a decade ago. “Why do you have them in CDs? And did you even know these songs back then?”

“Yes, because we listened to your playlist when you weren’t around,” Jimin confesses, earning him a flick on the arm.

“You went through my computer? You were in my room?!” You yell.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “It was a boring room, there was nothing to see. We just wanted your music because they were cool, but I’d never admit it.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head. “But it was my ex, remember? He was a new kid from the US and he got me into these emo rock bands and I thought they were cool, too. He downloaded them illegally for me and I just jammed to those songs all the time even after we broke up.”

“We know. Jungkook and I could hear it from my bedroom,” Jimin says, “which is why we used to sneak in and listen when you weren’t around.”

“Is that why you put them in a mixtape? So you could listen to them whenever you wanted?” You ask, turning to Jungkook because between the both of them, he’s definitely the one who’d know how to do this.

“Yeah, Kook. Why did you make these mixtapes when neither of us had a portable CD player… but my sister did?” Jimin presses, cocked eyebrow and smug face on display.

You’re looking at him now, and it’s a curious look that Jungkook can’t resist.

“I just thought to put your most played ones in CDs,” he shyly admits, “and uh, planned on giving them to you before you left for college. But I chickened out so I just left them in a box in my room that I brought to Seoul. I’d forgotten all about it until Jimin raided my studio and found them.”

“You… you made me mixtapes? When you were 15?” You ask.

“___, I think I’ve established enough that I had a huge crush on you when I was a teenager,” he turns to you and laughs.

It’s a little embarrassing even if he’s already dating you. It still feels surreal sometimes, as he thinks of his growing up years and how he always looked forward to sleeping over at Jimin’s place and then catching glimpses of you. There were the times when you’d watch movies with them in the living room, and then he’d help you clean up in the kitchen so he could spend more time with you.

That was over 10 years ago and so much has changed, but the admiration he felt for you never dwindled. There was always that image of you looking happy. He kept that version of you in his mind, even when you had your boyfriends. He just wanted to remember your smile, and now he gets to be the reason for it, like now.

“It’s just… it’s very sweet and thoughtful,” you say softly.

“I… Well… I took interest in the things you liked. I guess that happens when you like someone.”

“Told you he’s a romantic,” Jimin nudges you.

Between the fairy tattoo he designed and did on your shoulder, the dinner and picnic dates he takes you to despite both your busy schedules, and the way he holds you so close to him whenever and wherever he can, you can definitely say that Jungkook is a romantic.

It’s only been three months but it feels as if you’ve been dating him for longer, given the overflow of affection he’s been giving you. It’s in the way he always holds your hand and kisses you so passionately. It’s in his encouraging words and the way he spoils you with the littlest things.

It’s refreshing to be with him. He has boyish charms that have become even sexier with his slightly long hair and the lip ring that he recently got. And whatever he’s wearing, there’s just something so comfortably sexy about him that’s both warm and exciting, and you often find yourself swarmed in butterflies whenever he talks about you.

It’s only been three months but it’s a relationship you’re still slowly being open about. Your friends were definitely surprised. Hoseok fell off the couch with all his body movements; Jin spat out his drink; Yoongi gasped, then followed it up with a teasing smirk; So-Hee and Na-eun gushed over how Jungkook treats you, and took the chance to say how he’s gotten more handsome over the years.

You asked them if it was that shocking for you to be dating someone younger - and your brother’s best friend at that - and while they said it was a bit unexpected, what really got them was how different Jungkook is from your exes. He’s not some corporate man with ambitions, they pointed out. His life is less structured, too, given his freelancing career and gig at the tattoo parlor. He’s definitely a lot more laid-back and more casual than they’re used to.

They were short of remarking that Jungkook’s lifestyle isn’t as stable and secure as what you normally go for, and they wouldn’t be wrong. It’s a thought you’ve had before, and something even he brought up because he didn’t want you thinking that he can’t keep up with you. But you’d been the one to point out to your friends that stability can come in different forms. With how Jungkook has been so dependable and assuring, that’s given you more security than you ever thought.

But it’s not something that’s easy to explain. Maybe your friends could understand. They’ve made careers in different industries, after all, with short term jobs forming part of their resume. But your parents are of a different generation and mindset. Stability for them means one thing, and they raised you to want the same thing in the same way.

Which is why it’s already been three months, and you still haven’t told them about you and Jungkook.

“I started young,” he laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he takes your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. “I used to just choose my moments of romance but with you, I’m romantic all the time.”

“Really? Does being a flirt count as being romantic?” You cock an eyebrow.

Because that’s what he is. He likes to tease and call you out when he affects you. He likes to charm and then edge you until you’re pleading for him to do more.

“Definitely! I mean, I’m out here living my teenage dream, you know?” He winks at you. “Not just anyone gets to say that they’re dating the person they had a crush on when they were 13.”

“Oh god, here we go again,” Jimin groans, earning him a laugh from you and Jungkook.

But even if your brother fake-gags at your not-so private displays of affection, you know deep down that he’s happy for you and his best friend. The two most important people in his life found comfort in each other, and he gets to witness and bask in that.

He also gets to brag that it all happened because of him.

You spend the next hour jamming to all your favorite emo rock songs because Jungkook wasn’t kidding - he really did include all of the ones you had on repeat from your playlist. It takes you back to over 10 years ago of playing the music so loud while you’re in your pajamas, jumping on your bed and singing your lungs out. They don’t really remind you of your ex-boyfriend. That was a short-lived relationship that only really had you appreciating the songs he shared and not much more.

Your boss doesn’t reach out to you until a half hour later. He’s taken to sending you messages instead, and when he does, you’re back to typing away on your laptop, to the displeasure of both men.

They don’t call you out this time and instead leave you be. Until, of course, it hinders you from enjoying yourself.

The car has stopped but you’re still on your laptop, double checking figures. Jimin has stepped out after telling you that he’ll throw your laptop in the ocean if you don’t stop, but Jungkook stays with you inside the car. He bops his head and hums to the music that neither of you could barely hear. He picks on his fingers and yelps at the hangnail he pulls out. He opens the window and shoos away a bug, then hangs out his head to feel the late morning sun.

“Kook, you can go out if you’re bored,” you say, your eyes still glued to your screen. “You don’t have to stay with me here.”

“But I want to,” he responds. “I’m not leaving until you do, not when you said we’re spending the week free from work and stress.”

“I just need to get this done,” you sigh, rechecking your stats for the third time and then aligning the table. “I’ll be finished soon.”

“You said that 15 minutes ago,” he points out, not wanting to sound like he’s complaining, although he might as well be.

“It’s just—”

“You’ve done your part, babe. You’ve encoded the figures and cross-checked the targets and objectives. Writing the rest of that report and formatting it isn’t your job anymore,” Jungkook says. “You weren’t even supposed to do those. You’re not on the clock. You’re on leave, and you deserve this break.”

“I hate that I have to work, too, but it’s not something I just can’t do, not when my boss is calling and expecting me to do all this,” you groan.

You see his eyebrows furrow and you get defensive.

“You know what, nevermind. You work solo, you answer to no one, you don’t have to prove yourself to corporate assholes. You won’t get it.”

You sigh once more and return to reviewing the conclusion, but the sudden silence is unnerving. You glance at Jungkook and see the look on his face - it’s not sadness but disappointment, and it’s one you don’t see very often on him.

You’re about to apologize when he speaks, his voice soft and low, as if speaking is difficult for him.

“I work with so many clients on a daily basis, with more than half of them setting deadlines that they don’t even follow and demanding so many things so yes, I get it,” he says. “But I put my foot down when I need to, because I learned a long time ago that I shouldn’t let people walk all over me. I know you’re up against a lot of things and you may feel like your hands are tied but they aren’t. A break won’t hurt you. And you know you deserve it. We deserve your attention, too.”

Your heart cracks at his words. Even more at the way he looks, as you see that all he wants is to spend time with you. He’s been busy, too. He’s spent the last few nights at his studio, buried deep in his projects because he said he wanted to focus on you this week. And you know that he’ll keep his word like he always does. Jungkook is dedicated to his work but he focuses on you when he says he will. You’re the one not loyal to what you say.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Just do what you have to do,” he interjects, his eyes downcast now. “I’ll be outside with Jimin. Come out when you’re done. You like it here, so don’t worry. We won’t leave until you’ve come down.”

Jungkook exits the car before you can say anything. You watch him walk down the stony path towards the ocean.

You hadn’t even realized you’re here.

You’re at Cheongsapo, with the pebble beach just meters away being one you all went to as kids. Jungkook’s older brother used to drive you here during summer, and you all enjoyed the calmness of the place. You used to bet on who would treat ice cream by playing rounds of stone skipping, with Jimin winning every single time. You remember how you and Jungkook taught each other how to do it, and then tag-teamed against your brother so he could finally treat you both that one time.

Whenever you’d visit Busan during your college breaks, you’d always come down here with your friends, with Jungkook and Jimin in tow. You’d visit at sunset and hold out your sparklers, then navigate the terrain at night and laugh about who tripped and slipped on the way back.

Jungkook’s right. You like this place. It holds so many memories of your youth, and you find yourself constantly reminiscing, as you try to recall his place in your life back then.

You mentally smack yourself. He didn’t deserve your dismissal. He didn’t deserve the way you spoke to him. He’s been trying to help, especially with how busy you’ve been these past several weeks. You were supposed to work from home while you housesat your parents’ house but Jimin convinced you to take your untouched leaves when Jungkook decided to come, and then they both called it a mini-break.

And maybe you need it, considering that all this preoccupation with work has caused you to snap at your boyfriend when all he wanted to do was ease your mind.

So you get out of the car and head to him.

There’s a small forest to pass through and a steep staircase to maneuver, but you manage. You look out to see Jimin already throwing stones and Jungkook standing by, reacting to every gliding pebble on the water. You spare a few seconds to admire him from the back, with his plain white shirt and light gray lounge pants, accentuating a figure that has you weak in the knees. His hands are in his pockets and his slightly long locks are in a half-bun, and he looks every bit of comfort in this place that holds so much of your years growing up.

You walk to where he is and wrap your arms around him from behind. He stills but he doesn’t say anything. You savor his natural scent and the way the tips of his hair tickle your face. You bask in the taut figure that somehow softens under your touch. Once you feel him relax a little, you tilt your head and whisper in his ear.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He remains quiet and unmoving. All you can hear are the sounds of the waves and Jimin’s cheering from some meters away.

“I just got caught up with work but I’m done with it. It wasn’t right of me to neglect you when I promised I was gonna take a break and spend time with you,” you continue.

Your voice is low and Jungkook could hear your pout. Just a little bit more and he’ll give in.

“You look so hot today and I just want to—”

“Yah!” He whines, finally returning your affection and caressing your arms that are now wrapped around him tightly. “Don’t tease me.”

“Hmm, that caught your attention, huh?” You giggle, lightly kissing his neck.

He shivers at the act, and he laughs at himself for how whipped he is for you, giving in so quickly.

“You know it would,” he huffs, turning around to face you now.

You still have that pout and he just wants to kiss it off you.

“How was walking down the steep staircase?” He asks, knowing that was your only non-favorite thing about this place.

“I tripped on a step but I’m fine,” you proudly smile now.

“You should’ve called me,” he frowns now.

“But you were upset with me!”

“So? Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t help you down the stairs and risk you tripping. You know how those steps are. And the pebbles can sometimes be slippery. You can trip here, too, and— what?”

“Nothing. You’re sexy when you’re worried about me,” you say nonchalantly.

“Ugh, come here,” he groans, pulling you in a hug, one that you fall into immediately. “I’ll always worry about you. And I’ll always help you, even if I’m upset.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry again. But I’ve laid off the report now. I told Mr. Soo I shall not be disturbed anymore for the rest of my leave.”

“Good,” Jungkook hums, pulling away to face you now. “Because I really want to know what you wanted to do.”

“Ah, many things, Jeon Jungkook,” you smirk. “But I’ll maybe settle for this first.”

You lean in and kiss him - deep enough to have him moan against your lips, and you suddenly can’t wait until you can do more.

“Oh, my eyes!” Jimin squeals, prompting you to look at him with his arm covering his face.

Jungkook only laughs but you scowl at your brother.

“You’re so dramatic,” you roll your eyes. “You’ve seen worse.”

“And I’ve erased that image of my sister and my best friend swallowing each other’s faces from my mind. Please don’t remind me again,” he groans. “But anyway, are you tolerable again?”

“Yes,” you frown. “I think,” you mutter, turning to Jungkook.

“You’re alright,” he teases, before he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “Now Jimin here wants to reassert his dominance as the stone-skipping king. You game for a match?”

“Do I have a choice?” You cock your eyebrow.

“No. So okay, same rules,” your brother announces. “Loser treats everyone to coffee and pastry. We all know it won’t be me.”

“Brat,” you say under your breath.

But he’s not wrong. He dominates and Jungkook ends up losing. The wink he makes tells you he let you win. And though you like to play fair, you won’t lie and say his teasing smirk definitely turned you on.

You spend the rest of your morning enjoying iced coffee while overlooking the beach, then you head to your favorite seafood restaurant for lunch. You go to your usual market for ingredients for the week, including tonight’s dinner that your mother will be preparing. She wanted to cook for all of you before they flew out, she said, and that got you excited.

It’s refreshing to walk through the streets and spots of your childhood and reminisce with your brother and boyfriend. The memories take on different forms this time, as Jungkook tells you things from his perspective.

You remember that one time you scolded them for sneaking out on a school night and then picking them up at an alley with Jin driving you. Jungkook says he liked how caring and understanding you were then; you said you’d cover for them after flicking their foreheads.

There’s that summer when you got your friends to buy from Jimin and Jungkook’s ice pop stand so they could buy these skateboards that neither of your parents wanted to get for them. Jungkook recalls how you complimented his recipe and told everyone he made them so that they’d praise him, too.

There’s that winter when, after your brother’s begging, you had him and Jungkook join you and your friends’ bonfire night at one of your secret beach spots. Jungkook points out that you always made sure that as the youngest ones there, they were warm and well-fed.

And then there were their sleepovers when you’d join them play video games and watch horror movies in the living room. Jungkook gushes at how pretty you looked and how you’d always prepare them popcorn and drinks. He outs you as the one who puts the blanket over him and Jimin when they fall asleep on the couch.

“I tend to forget a lot of things but I remember when they’re about you,” he mumbles as he starts the drive to your house. “It’s just always stuck with me. Please don’t be weirded out.”

You giggle but assure him that you aren’t. You understand him - there are things and people and moments that naturally stick with you, and they’re the ones you hold dear, too.

He was a kid with a crush and his attention was often on you, and you suppose that given how you’d felt comfortable around him then, it was also maybe natural that you’d feel the same way now that you’re both older. It just so happened that he ended up looking as attractive as he did, and that’s just an added bonus.

Jungkook drops you and Jimin home before he drives three blocks away to his parents’ house. He’ll greet them first before heading to your place, he says, excited for your mom’s cooking that he always enjoyed.

It’s been some time since you last saw them. They don’t always drive out to Seoul, only doing so to watch Jimin’s shows, and you haven’t had time to go home, either. Plus, you had an injured brother to take care of, and he’s also really the topic of every conversation you’ve had with them these past months.

And there are no bad feelings there. He’s had injuries and illnesses that had them worried, and you’re pretty much as unproblematic and predictable as any eldest child could get. You think you’re that monotonous or unexciting, too, and you suppose that just meant they didn’t feel the need to check on you as much as they did with Jimin.

But you express your longing once they offer you their hugs. You say how you miss your mom’s cooking and your dad’s baking, which is code for saying that you’ve missed them, too.

You get your stuff to your room and sigh in relief at the comfort it still gives you. Not much has changed between your double bed, your desk, your beanbag, and the large cork board of photos on your wall. You pin the Polaroids from earlier, deciding to keep the ones of you and Jungkook for your place back in Seoul.

You huff this time, unsure how you’ll open the discussion of you dating your younger brother’s best friend to your parents. They’ve known him since he was a kid; they watched him get into all kinds of trouble with their son, and were there for his milestones, too.

Jungkook was always Jimin’s partner-in-crime; they were two peas in a pod who went through everything together. Now it’s you and him and you don’t really know how they’ll take it.

But you brush it off for now and think it’s a conversation for later, or maybe when they come back from their trip. You intended on telling them in person, which is why they’re still in the dark. It’s just a matter of how you’ll say it.

You head downstairs and take in the scent of seafood soft tofu stew. The two boys are already at the kitchen counter, munching on the rolled omelet that they shouldn’t even be having yet. But your mom lets them, as Jimin talks about his new agency and shows videos of him doing some choreographies.

You stand next to Jungkook, who sneakily feeds you. You don’t know why you get flustered at the act, even more when he whispers in your ear.

“So, I finally get to see your room with your permission,” he cheekily smiles. “I promised Jimin a few rounds of Overwatch before going to you.”

You merely laugh and tell him that your dad’s asking him something.

“So, Jungkook. How has work been? Jimin tells us you’ve been getting more projects recently,” your old man asks.

“Ah, yes, uncle,” he responds. “I’m getting more clients and exposure now. It took a while but it’s all going well.”

“That’s good. Although I always wondered why you never thought of joining a firm. Doesn’t that mean a more consistent client base? And better for you financially, too.”

“Well, I get to choose my clients and my projects as a freelancer,” Jungkook explains. “I control my time. And it allows me to take appointments at the tattoo parlor.”

“Oh, right, your hobby,” your dad nods. “I guess having multiple sources of income is the new trend these days.”

Jungkook just hums in agreement, already used to your dad’s frame of thought when it comes to a career. So are you, because it’s often the first thing he picks up on with your boyfriends. Each of your partners just happened to be working in corporate so there was never this line of questioning followed by an awkward silence.

But Jungkook is just your brother’s best friend, as far as they know. You wonder how they’d react once you finally tell them the truth.

You don’t completely fault your dad, though. It’s less about judgment and more about practicality. He and your mom came from the generation that believed survival and security mattered more than passion. They always thought the latter could come later on in life, which is why they opened their own cafe not long ago, at a time when they were already pretty secure. You suppose it’s his way of looking out for you, which is why he’s always been concerned about your partner’s occupation.

The conversation changes, as the focus now turns to your parents and what they’ve been up to. You assist your mom in the kitchen while the men hang around, helping when they’re called upon. Jungkook stands near you, asking if you need him and attempting to feed you with a dumpling this time, but you manage to feed yourself and he merely looks at you in understanding.

Dinner is finally ready and you all head to the dining table. You take the seat next to your mom, across from Jungkook, and he looks at you curiously but you offer him an apologetic smile. You only told him that you’ll tell your parents about your relationship in person, which you planned on doing.

That is, until your parents bring up your friends.

“Sweetie, Jin’s son is so adorable,” your mom chirps. “I saw the pictures on Facebook and the little one took after his father so much. I can imagine how happy he and his wife are.”

The topic of your dear friend and his family injects energy into you. You say how Jin’s been bragging about his mini-me but that the nursery you helped put together looks so beautiful. You were all there when his wife gave birth a few weeks ago and though you’re still unsure about having kids, you won’t deny how much it warmed your heart when Seo-yoon’s tiny fingers wrapped around your thumb. It’s not something you say though, as your mom eventually mentions Na-eun and her fiancé.

“I read that he’s been promoted as Director of their company,” she says.

Your dad pipes in that So-Hee’s new boyfriend is apparently the son of one of his former colleagues, and you’re quite frankly over the conversations about your friends’ partners. The insinuations aren’t lost on you.

“How do you even know these things?” You groan.

“Facebook,” your mom replies. “Of course I’m friends with all your friends. And it’s nice to know how well they’re doing since we don’t get to see them much anymore. You’ve reached that age of settling down, after all.”

“I guess,” you hum, no longer interested in the conversation. Jimin’s roll of his eyes tells you he feels the same. “Lots of good things are happening for them.”

You don’t mean to sound bitter and you aren’t. You adore your friends and genuinely love that things are looking out for them. You’re not the same person from months ago who felt lost and falling behind amongst them. Sure, things could be better career-wise, but you haven’t felt this much security in yourself and your relationship until Jungkook. Explaining why is a different thing altogether.

“What about you?” Your dad asks. “I know we’ve been calling every week to ask about your brother but we haven’t been checking in on you. I’m sorry, dear,” he continues, his eyes softening. “Is there anything new in your life?”

If the earlier conversations hadn’t happened, perhaps you’d willingly hint on the newest thing in your life, which is the relationship you have with the man currently looking at you with his doe-eyes in anticipation.

But they did, and you know mentioning your friends’ partners was their way of subtly pressuring you about being with someone of similar stature. And you’re not really in the mood for that right now.

So you end up doing the stupidest thing you possibly could, and that’s to lie.

“Not really,” you say, hating the prolonged silence that follows.

And as you look at Jungkook across from you, you see his face fall, and you hate even more that it’s because of you.

Your lack of a follow-up prompts your parents to move on. They know that when you’re in the mood to talk, you will and when you’re quite passive, it means you aren’t.

Your mom turns to Jungkook instead and asks him what else he’s up to other than his various jobs and looking after Jimin. He looks at you before his gaze shifts towards them.

“Not much else, auntie,” he replies.

The crack of your heart knows you completely messed up, because if it stings like this, then you know it hurt him even more.

“Oh, is there no one special in your life?” She asks, as she often does. Given that she treats Jungkook as part of the family, she’s lost all filter when it comes to him, too. “I recently met with my friend and her daughter. She’s such a lovely young woman, Kook, she’s brilliant and oh so charming. She’s in Busan for the week, too. Do you want to—”

“Is it time for dessert?” Jimin butts in, not wanting this conversation to continue.

He knows Jungkook wouldn’t know how to turn your mother down, and if he even slightly entertains the idea to appease her, you’d be the one upset, even if you technically put this upon yourself. Jimin already sees you a bit uncomfortable, and if there’s anything he can do to not make this worse for you and his best friend, it’s to be a brat.

“Oh, yes. Your father made an apple pie and some ice cream,” she says. “Let me—”

“I’ll get it,” you offer, standing up from your seat now.

You don’t want to know what your mom’s other propositions would be. You’re sure she’ll find some person’s son to match you with, given that she’s done that a few times after your breakup with Namjoon. You’re also not ready for Jungkook to agree with her about meeting someone, even if you know he won’t mean it.

Which is really stupid because if you’d just told them the truth, then you’ll be having a completely different conversation, although you’re unsure if you’re ready for that one, too. But at least Jungkook wouldn’t look as upset as he does right now, as he’s resorted to picking on his food instead of finishing it, which tells you that he’s lost his appetite and that’s never a good thing.

You go to the kitchen to slice the pie and scoop the ice cream. You do it so slowly to lengthen the time before you’re back there, only because you don’t want to know what else they’re talking about.

You’re in the middle of cursing yourself when you feel the sting of a tiny pinch on your arm, and you yelp in pain and smack your brother’s chest in reflex.

“Ow!” You yell, frowning at the man before you and ignoring your mother’s order to “behave,” even if they’re used to you two quarreling.

“You deserve that,” Jimin scowls at you. “Because what the fuck was that?!”

“I know,” you sigh, glancing at Jungkook who’s trying his best to be interested in what your parents are saying. “I… froze. You know what they wanted to hear, Chim. All those things about my friends’ boyfriends and what they do? I just didn’t want them to compare them to what Jungkook does if I tell them.”

“Why, what’s wrong with what he does?” Your brother raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing. It’s just… you know how focused they are on career stability and shit like that,” you try to explain. “You heard what dad was telling him earlier. I just didn’t want Jungkook to hear any underhanded comments from them and then feel bad about it.”

“And you think denying that you’re dating is any better?” He chides. “That’s literally worse!”

“I—”

“Jungkook knows how our parents are. And after you got together, he already anticipated that they’d question how he’ll be able to sustain your life together once you told them about your relationship,” Jimin explains. “He was ready for it. I doubt he anticipated this…”

You stand there, the crack in your heart getting deeper and bigger as the seconds pass. You hadn’t realized that Jungkook was already confiding in Jimin about any concerns he’d have about facing your parents. You suppose he would, given that you said you’d tell them when you saw them the one time that Jungkook asked if they knew, and you didn’t raise it again after. Living in your bubble together seemed more important, and you’d forgotten to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation.

“Chim, I fucked up,” you pout.

If it were about anything else, Jimin would push it. It’s how you always were, and you’ve reached that point in your relationship where you could call each other out and know it comes from a good place. But he doesn’t want to do this today, not when you’re already sad and guilty and he doesn’t want you to feel worse. He doesn’t want to take sides, even if he’ll admit that you were in the wrong, but he doesn’t want to antagonize you either.

“Hey,” he nudges your arm. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re both gonna figure it out. I don’t know how hard he’ll take this but he’s a really soft-hearted person, so just… keep that in mind, okay?”

You nod, wanting to believe that you’ll be able to fix it.

“And don’t hate yourself too much,” your brother adds. “He’s really, really into you. I just know he won’t be able to resist you.”

You nod again but you think that just makes it worse. You doubt he expected that out of all the people to disappoint him, it would be you. Yet here you are.

You and Jimin return to the table with the plated desserts. You hand one to Jungkook but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He doesn’t meet your eyes either when it’s all you try to do. He peacefully eats his apple pie while you feign interest at your parents talking about their recent weekend at a spa.

When everyone’s done, he helps Jimin clean up. It’s how you know that Jungkook’s considered part of the family, as your parents don’t stop him from doing so, unlike when it comes to other guests or your friends.

You watch helplessly as he washes the dishes, turning down your offer to help. You take the rest of the plates and walk towards him instead, standing close so you could place them in the sink. He just moves his arms to give you space then returns to his task, not sparing you a glance.

You stay with your parents in the dining area to talk about their trip. They leave you with important documents and give you instructions should anything bad happen to them while they’re away, as they always do whenever they go on a trip. Everything is your responsibility as the eldest, they remind you.

They finally go to their room to continue packing and you sit on the corner of the couch where Jimin and Jungkook have just finished watching some video of a guy reacting to other videos. You constantly glance at your boyfriend but he seems to be intent on not giving you attention because he’s not like this - he always wants to be close to you, needing his hand to be touching your arm or your thigh or even your hair, and his pretty eyes locked on you. But not tonight.

You recall how months ago, you avoided him because of what you started to feel. And perhaps this is how he felt then - helpless, unsure, and desperate for you to be next to him again.

You find the tiniest bit of courage and call out his name, hoping he’d at least turn to you this time.

“Kook, I’m—”

“Hey, we should probably play now so we finish early,” Jungkook nudges Jimin’s knee. “It’s been a long day; I don’t really want to stay up late.”

Your brother looks at you in apology as he responds to the man on his left in agreement. They both head up, leaving you rooted in your seat, wishing that Jungkook would turn around to tell you that he doesn’t mean creating this distance, but he doesn’t.

And you wouldn’t blame him. You’d stay away from you, too.

You end up watching Aliens on your own, crouched on your corner of the couch with the large blanket over you. You give up after an hour, once the movie starts getting intense and scary though. There’s no Jungkook to hold you during the jumpscares, or to tease you about your screaming, or to assure you that he’ll protect you from all types of monsters.

There’s no Jungkook next to you but you want him there, and it’s another half hour later when you decide that you’re not going to bed without speaking to him.

You hate sleeping sad and upset. You don’t like ending the day not being on good terms with him. There are so many things you want to tell him but more than anything, you just want to hold him close. He always said he liked that, because even during the times when there’s so much to say or feel, falling into each other’s arms is the easiest thing to do. It says enough. It shows enough. And you’ve both survived misunderstandings and stressful moments by holding each other, and then holding each other closer.

Walking up the stairs and towards Jimin’s room, the nerves kick in. Jungkook has been ignoring you the whole evening and you’re unsure if he’s willing to hear you out.

But you try, as you knock on the door, your heart beating fast when it slowly opens. Your brother’s downcast eyes meet you and you don’t need to say anything else.

He opens the door wider then turns to the man lying on a mattress on the floor.

“Kook, my sister’s looking for you.”

You glance at him, dressed in that black tank top that always made you breathless, but once again, he avoids your gaze. But he does stand up after a nudge on the foot from your brother and walks over to you.

“Can we, uh…” you gesture towards the room just across the hallway.

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t shut you out, which is a good thing. You take it as your cue to start walking and you hear his footsteps right behind you.

You let him in then close the door behind him. There’s so much you want to say, like you’re sorry and that you were stupid, that you didn’t mean to deny him but that you didn’t know how to tell your parents, or what you were even nervous about. You want to say that you just want to spend tonight wrapped up in his arms and apologizing in all the ways that you can.

But instead of uttering the words, your throat dries up. Seeing him standing there with that upset and disinterested look on his face breaks you a little. So you reach out, your hands pressing gently on his chest to try to feel him, to be close to him, hopefully to hold him and make your mistake go away.

“Kook, I…” you tremble, trying so hard to find the words.

Jungkook looks back at you, your face nervous and unsure, unlike his that’s probably still painted with disappointment.

He still doesn’t know what to make of your denial. He’s been trying to see things from your point of view all evening, but doing so only in his head because verbalizing them, especially to his best friend, makes it sting a bit more. Maybe Jimin can explain on your behalf but that would just confirm to Jungkook one of two things - that you don’t really intend on telling your parents about both of you for whatever reason he can’t comprehend, or you don’t think he measures up to their expectations and for that, you might just think he’s not good enough for you.

He doesn’t think he’s ready for that, so he shuts Jimin down when he asks. They watched videos earlier to have something to laugh about but he was faking it. He suggested playing a game just so he wouldn’t respond to you calling him earlier but all they’ve done since going to the room is lie in silence.

Jungkook doesn’t want to talk about it with his best friend. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it with you. He doesn’t want an explanation right now. It’s not what he wants to hear.

And it seems as if it’s something you’re even struggling to give him, as you stand there quivering, your hands slowly trying to pull him closer to you.

It’s what you usually do when you can’t find the words to express something - when you’re stressed and frustrated, when you want to patch things up after a small misunderstanding, when you want his comfort. And he always loved it when you did. He always willingly gave you that hug and that kiss and those whispers of “it’s okay” and “we’re okay” and “I’m just here.”

But not tonight, not when there’s this unnamed thing that’s eating him inside, and not even you can fix it.

“I don’t… I don’t really wanna do this right now,” he mutters, taking your hands to slowly slide them off him.

The look of hurt in your eyes is one that’ll probably haunt him for a while, but he’ll learn to deal with that. It’s better than talking with you about something that you don’t even know how to express.

This isn’t like him. It’s not like him to be upset at you like this, to not want to comfort you, to not want to be around you. This messes him up, too, and all he can do is step away and walk out.

He doesn’t really wanna be here, he thinks to himself as he enters the room just across, to the surprise of Jimin who half expected both of you to have made up. Jungkook would go home if he only brought his keys and it wasn’t too late to ask his parents to open the door for him.

But his best friend’s floor mattress will do for now. And so Jungkook puts on his earpods and plays whatever music is loud enough to shut out the thought of you until he falls asleep.

In the other room, you lay in your bed in complete silence. You don’t want to cry, only because he’s not there to wipe your tears away. And you don’t ever want to know what that’s like, so you don’t. You keep the tears at bay and force yourself to drift away.

You jerk awake the next morning to your mother knocking on your door. You promised to do errands with her today, so you get off the bed and yell out that you’ll just fix up.

“No rush, dear. I’m still having breakfast with your father. You can join us when you’re ready.”

You head down and eat the pastries that they brought from the cafe. You don’t have much appetite and these will suffice, but your mind goes to Jungkook and how he was craving kimchi fried rice and spam yesterday.

So that’s what you make for him and Jimin. You even prepare iced coffee the way they like it. You’re about to set the dish aside for them to heat up when you hear rushed footsteps down the stairs and you know they’ve woken up.

“Wahhh, it smells so good,” Jimin exclaims as he walks over to the counter while his best friend sits on the table. “Did you make something, dad?”

“Oh, your sister cooked for you and Jungkook,” your father hums. “It’s making me hungry now.”

“There’s still some in here if you want,” you call out, with him responding that he’ll get some later.

You serve the dish in two bowls. You hand one to Jimin and then place the other in front of Jungkook without sparing him a glance.

“Iced coffee is in the refrigerator,” you tell them.

You hear Jimin’s little squeal before he gets them. “Where you off to?” He asks.

“I’m running errands with mom.”

“Make sure you two make it in time for dinner, okay?” Your father says.

“Of course. I can’t miss your steak, dad,” you give him a small smile.

“Good. I prepared meat good enough for five Actually, six. I count Jungkook as two people,” he laughs.

The thought of this comfort and familiarity hurts you because you’re the one who made Jungkook think otherwise. You see him smile at your father’s remark but you turn away when he looks your way. You know he’s still upset and you don’t want to force it if he’s not yet ready to speak with you. You also haven’t gotten over the way he pulled away from you last night, and so looking at him today is a little difficult.

“You’re still joining us at the party, right?” Jimin asks.

Their friend, Hari, whom you know briefly dated Jungkook in high school, is celebrating her birthday tonight. Their group always looked to you as the cool sister so you’re always invited to whatever they’ve got going, and while the three of you talked about attending later, after what you did, you doubt Jungkook would want you to spoil his evening. You’re also not exactly in the partying mood for obvious reasons.

“I’ll pass, Chim,” you respond. “You guys should have a best friend night.”

You go back to your room to fix up before joining your mother to head out.

Back in the dining room, Jimin nudges Jungkook’s knee.

“She’s still playing favorites,” he playfully rolls his eyes as he gestures to the generous amount of spam in his best friend’s bowl compared to his decent serving.

Jungkook just hums, guilt forming that he didn’t even thank you for this because he really has been craving it. Before any of them could say anything more, your father speaks up.

“Your sister okay, son?”

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t she be?” Jimin nervously answers.

“She just doesn’t seem like herself, that’s all,” your old man replies.

“Maybe it’s work. It’s been tough lately,” your brother reasons.

“But she’s more tired and frustrated when it comes to work but that’s not what she is. Maybe it’s a guy.”

At this, Jungkook chokes on his food, and he’s glad your father doesn’t react.

“What makes you think so?” Jimin asks, his eyes flitting to his best friend.

“Hmm, it just seems different,” your father insists. “Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my end. She hasn’t introduced anyone since Namjoon. And I wish she would, just so we know she’s moved on, you know? And that the breakup isn’t still hurting her.”

“She has, and it doesn’t affect her anymore,” Jimin confirms, certain of at least that bit.

“Then why hasn’t she introduced anyone yet?”

“Maybe it’s because you really liked Namjoon, and he seems to be your standard so ___ is just probably just taking her time.”

“Well it’s because he’s smart and stable and very self-assured and—”

“Also very much married. And a soon-to-be father,” Jimin interjects, already being protective of you.

He wonders now if this is how your parents talk about him to you, and that you’ve always just protected him from all of it.

“Oh,” your father sighs. “It could’ve been her.”

“But it isn’t and that’s totally fine,” Jimin exclaims. “She’s young and she’s got time. And who knows, maybe that’s not the life she wants, or at least not yet? If you could accept my version of happiness, you should be able to accept hers, too. And what does ‘stable’ even mean?”

“Someone with ambition, with a direction,” your old man explains. “Someone who’s secure and financially capable of sustaining this good life that your mom and I gave you both.”

“Those are all the things she is, too, you know?” Jimin frowns. “And also, I love you, dad, but you’re old. By that I mean your thinking is old. It’s outdated. You think stability is about prestige and money and I get that but… that’s not everything. There are other things that matter to her and if you lessened the pressure a bit, you’d see that. She’s your daughter, don’t you want her to be happy? To be loved?”

“Of course I do,” your father sighs.

“Well then don’t let your version of what a good partner is dictate her life,” Jimin advises. “She’s a grown up, she knows what she wants and how to get it. But she’s also your daughter who doesn’t want to worry or disappoint you. What if she’s found someone who makes her happy and treats her right but she’s nervous of what you’d think because of all these expectations you have of her?”

Jimin’s eyes flit to his best friend again who’s quietly munching on his food but is clearly taking in this exchange. While Jimin still thinks you were wrong to deny your relationship, he at least hopes that Jungkook could understand what was going through your mind and it was all this.

“Well if she has then I’d want to meet him,” your father insists.

“And maybe you will, once she stops feeling the pressure of what she’s supposed to be for you and who she’s supposed to date,” Jimin explains.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, dad,” Jimin groans. “I lived with her for months and she just… she worries about a lot of things. It would be nice if she doesn’t worry about this. So please, stop with all the projections and underhanded remarks, okay? She sees right through you. Just let her live her life.”

A smile forms on your father’s face. It was never his intention to put all that pressure on you but he supposes you just accepted that it comes with the territory. But he realizes it shouldn’t be. His son’s right - he’s old. He and your mother worked hard so that you and your brother could have a life where you didn’t have to worry about anything, but he supposes the intention got muddled along the way. At least you and Jimin have each other.

“I know you and your sister don’t like to admit it but it’s really touching to see how similar you both are,” your father says.

“Excuse me, I’m cooler and funnier and definitely more talented,” Jimin pouts.

“Maybe,” your old man laughs. “But she’s sat on that same chair, lecturing me and your mom about letting you live your life and now you’re doing the same. She’s your biggest advocate and your biggest protector. It’s just nice to see how you’re the same for her.”

Running errands with your mother has always been your responsibility, but it’s once you’ve hit your late-twenties mark that you’ve come to appreciate it.

You learn a lot about the practical stuff like insurance and emergency funds and inheritance when you accompany her to the bank. You’re also reminded that sometimes you have to spend more to make things last when she drops off her clothes at the laundry service and picks up the bag and shoes she had professionally cleaned. You also remember the important things like buying flowers and leaving them on your grandparents’ graves.

You’ve just left the shopping center after she bought your father an anniversary gift, and her excitement over the satchel and perfume she got him has you smiling. You wonder how differently she feels for him 30 years later, and if this life they have together is everything she imagined it to be.

“Was it hard at the beginning? Being married to dad?” You ask.

“Of course, dear,” she answers. “Because it’s how marriages typically go. Your father and I were together for two years before we got married and it was a big change. You just… learn to consider another person, and you get used to someone always being around you.”

“It’s a good thing you can stand each other then,” you chuckle.

“That’s true,” she laughs back. “You’d be surprised to know how many married couples can’t. But we just always managed. And we had to be on each other’s side, you know? It’s the reason why we’ve lasted as long as we have.”

She looks quite emotional as she says the words and it’s probably because of what they’ll be celebrating soon but she turns to you with a smile.

“Your father’s parents wanted me to become a housewife, a stay-at-home mom who just ran the household,” she continues. “But I wanted to work so I could help my parents, and your father stood by my decision. He saw how working gave him financial freedom and he wanted that for me, too. And we just… worked hard. We fought a lot at the start because we were building our careers and raising a family but we knew it would all be worth it, as long as we stood by each other.”

“Then I suppose that’s what’s important in a partner, isn’t it?” You say. “Being dependable, being supportive, not… not what kind of career they have.”

“Well, a stable career helps,” she points out. “I mean, it’s how your father and I got to afford sending you and your brother to good schools. It’s how we could afford trips as a family and how your father and I can be secure at this age without needing much help from our children.”

“But that’s also because you worked hard, plain and simple. And you and dad had each other and overcame whatever challenges you faced together. You can’t say the same for all married couples,” you push.

“That’s true. I mean, it wasn’t like this during our parents’ time. I guess people had less options then. The world’s changed so much, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” you hum. “Not everyone cares much about their partner’s upward mobility and stuff like that. They want to savor the good life their parents gave them. And because they work hard, too, they just want someone to enjoy it with them. You know, like me.”

There’s a beat of silence as your mother processes your words.

“Is that why it didn’t work out with Namjoon?” She asks, reminding you that you’d only given them a general reason as to why things ended.

“We spent too much time planning for our future that we kinda lost our way,” you explain. “I guess that’s when I realized that I wanted someone to enjoy the moments with, regardless of what they do for a living. And we’ll never know what life will throw our way and I need someone who’ll stand by me, the way I’ll stand by them. You know, cheesy things like that.”

You smile to yourself as you think about Jungkook and his shameless affection that he shows in so many ways. You enjoy the cheesiness but you’ll deny it first before admitting it. But then again, he probably knows already. He pays attention to you after all.

“Well, I suppose that’s why we wanted to give you and your brother a good and secure life, so that you can enjoy it,” your mother hums.

“Exactly. You raised us well, mom. We’re not gonna throw our lives away, however we choose to live it, and with whom,” you assure her.

She gives you a warm smile. She takes your hand at the stoplight and caresses it. Perhaps it’s the assurance you need, too.

You return home to your father preparing the meat for tonight’s dinner. There’s a platter of steak, vegetables, and sausages that he’s seasoning to grill, and you can imagine how happy this is gonna make Jungkook. He always liked it when your dad prepared dishes like this paired with your mom’s spicy chicken soup, and you wish you could enjoy it together.

But you’re giving him space to feel what he feels and you’re doing the same, even if all you want to do is apologize. You haven’t had an issue quite like this, so things are a little unfamiliar to you. You tried to talk to him last night but he wasn’t ready, and you’re unsure when he will be.

You head towards the counter and cut up the vegetables for the soup before slicing the fruits. You’re focused on your task, knowing how sharp the knives are, but it’s at the same time that your brother and Jungkook arrive. Seeing your boyfriend look as good as he does in that denim jacket-over tank top fit is so sinful; it’s a crime you’re not talking that it distracts you, and it’s what causes you to slice through your finger and yelp in pain.

“Did you hurt yourself, dear?” Your mom asks as she stirs the pot.

“Yeah,” you say, placing your hand under running water.

You’re about to ask Jimin to get the First Aid kit from the drawer but Jungkook gets to it first, knowing where it is.

He knows that your brother, who’s terrified of blood, won’t help you, and despite your situation, Jungkook can’t stand not helping. So he lathers an antiseptic once the bleeding has stopped, then he wraps a band-aid around it. Just like him, you focus your gaze on your finger. Or maybe you’re stuck on the way he tends to you. Or the fact that this is the most physical touch you’ve done this past day when you normally can’t take your hands off each other.

He sighs to himself. If he wasn’t so hung up on his hurt feelings, he’d be able to tend to you better. This might not even have happened if he’d just spoken to you last night.

But he shakes the thought away. He’s still upset. But he’ll always want to take care of you; that’s the one thing that won’t ever change.

“Thank you,” you mumble, still not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll do this,” he says, waiting for you to step aside before he takes your place.

“Jungkook dear, do you mind helping me with the glazed potatoes after you finish that?” She asks.

“Sure thing, auntie,” he replies.

You watch him work around the kitchen the way he’s done so many times before, and your heart stings at the sight because you want to be doing this with him, with your parents, in your family kitchen. But it’s not like you could talk to him right now, not when you don’t know how to say what you want to say. So you head outside to where your dad is grilling the meat and help him instead.

It’s not long after when dinner is ready, and you’re seated across Jungkook again. It’s a little tense when you look at him when he looks away, but Jimin thankfully finds a way to keep the conversation light and focused on him.

Your parents insist that both men don’t need to help clean up, and Jimin asks you if you’re really not going.

“Yeah I’ll just… stay home, make sure mom and dad are packed well and just get everything in order for tomorrow,” you say, half lying.

“Gee, you make me look like a useless child,” Jimin pouts.

“You’re alright,” you hum. “You can drive them to the airport tomorrow.”

“But mom asked Jungkook to do that.”

“Well then you could just… make them a card or something,” you shrug.

Your brother sticks his tongue at you and you do the same.

“Fine, we’ll head out,” he announces.

“You guys have fun,” you say softly, glancing at Jungkook before walking towards the sink to do your duty.

You turn to your brother. “Call me if you need me to pick you up. No driving drunk, okay?”

He salutes you in response then heads out after Jungkook.

It’s uneventful after that. You help your parents with last minute packing then have a long shower. You lie on your bed and mindlessly watch some movie on your laptop hoping that you’ll fall asleep soon, and that when you wake up, you’ll find the strength to go to Jungkook and tell him that you’re sorry and that you don’t want to go another day without him.

“Hey, Jungkook. Dance with me.”

Jungkook looks up to find Hari and gives the same answer he’s given the last two times.

“Sorry, I’m injured,” he says.

She raises her eyebrow as if she doesn’t believe him and he can’t blame her; he doesn’t exactly know how to act like it.

“Oh, Jimin. There you are,” she chirps as the said man approaches the table. “Dance with me.”

“Sorry, I'm injured.”

“Great. It’s my birthday and I spot two hot guys in this party without girls around them and they’re fake injured,” she scowls. “What’s up with you two?”

“I’m not in the mood,” Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m babysitting,” Jimin says, gesturing at his friend. “But Mingyu and Eunwoo are right there. Go tell them to dance with you.”

“Fine. I’ll get in line then,” she rolls her eyes then walks away.

“How come no one believes me when I say I’m injured?” Jungkook asks as he munches on the fried chicken wings his best friend got.

“Because you’re a terrible actor. People believe me because I’m believable,” Jimin hums.

“They believe you because you posted all over social media that you hurt your ankle,” Jungkook corrects.

“Yeah but that was like, half a year ago.”

“Why are you even pretending you’re injured? You don’t have to stay with me, you know? Go to the dance floor and have fun. That’s your thing.”

“Well, maybe I’m also not in the mood because my best friend’s sulking,” Jimin frowns.

“Gee, I wonder why.”

“You know my sister’s sorry, right?”

“She’s ashamed, that’s what she is. And I’m just supposed to live with that.”

Jimin sighs as he watches his best friend mindlessly stare out onto the dance floor. Jungkook’s probably trying to rid himself of the image of both of you dancing and kissing and having fun if you were here. He could be making sense of what he feels, or his mind could also just be completely blank right now.

But what Jimin knows is that another glass of whiskey is something that Jungkook shouldn’t be having, so he stops his best friend from ordering another one.

“You might get drunk and then you’ll call or go see her and then you’ll say things you’ll regret and then you’ll hurt her and you’ll get even more hurt and you’ll have a harder time fixing things and then it just won’t stop and you’ll feel stupid because you’re not talking over something you could easily fix,” Jimin heaves.

It’s a lot to process but Jungkook knows that Jimin’s right. He’ll just get too emotional and won’t be able to control himself and despite what he feels, hurting you is the last thing he wants.

So he orders water instead, finishes it, then heads for the door.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he says. “I need to get some air.”

They end up at a park, the one that you used to hang at with your friends in high school. Jungkook knows because he always accompanied Jimin there when you’d tell him where to meet you. It’s peaceful at this time of night and much more beautiful, too. It’s no surprise he keeps thinking that you’re right next to him, with your head on his chest and laughing at his jokes.

“Why is this affecting me so much?” He wonders out loud. “Why am I so hurt and so stubborn?”

“Because she said something she shouldn’t have. But also because you put her on a pedestal,” Jimin answers. “She made a mistake, and you’re free to fault her for it. I mean, anytime someone we care about hurts us, it sucks like hell. But you also have to think that maybe it’s affecting you as much as it does because she’s always been faultless in your eyes and she isn’t.”

The reality is a slap on the face, but one that Jungkook thinks he needs to have. You were everything he ever wanted and these past three months have been a bliss. But now that reality hits and you have to face the pressure that’s part of your life, your humanness is showing. And that’s what he’s always liked about you, isn’t it? The imperfections and the flaws? Now that those are affecting him, it’s affecting him hard, and he’s having a hard time getting over it.

“Maybe once you accept that she’s human and not just the dream you’ve had since forever, then you’ll realize that things like that happen but she never means to hurt you,” Jimin adds. “You can’t think that she does. You learn to work it out by facing it, Kook. You have to talk about it. You have to tell her it hurts and you have to listen to what she says, and then you forgive. That’s kind of how grownup relationships go.”

“Guess I’ve never had one before, huh?”

“Maybe they just didn’t mean enough to hurt you.”

“This means everything, then,” Jungkook sighs, as things get clearer in his mind. “Because I think what hurts more now is not being next to her.”

“Great! Then can both of you patch things up now?” Jimin beams, feeling hopeful. “I hate seeing both of you sad and so stupid. Plus, my parents are leaving tomorrow and you won’t have a buffer anymore. So please just talk.”

Jungkook admits feeling touched. He knows at the end of the day, Jimin cares about him and you more than anyone, and he probably misses being around both of you at the same time. Jungkook does, too, but he misses you the most and it’s only been a day.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell her and it’s late. She might be asleep and—”

“Now you’re just making excuses,” Jimin crosses his arms.

“Well, what if I expect her to be the one to talk to me?”

“She tried but you didn’t want to, remember?”

“That was last night. The wound was still fresh,” Jungkook pouts.

“Oh god. I feel like I’m dealing with children,” Jimin groans.

“Imagine how we felt taking care of you,” Jungkook answers back.

“At least I was just one person,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Your dramatics were equivalent to two people though.”

Both men bicker as they walk back to the car. It started to drizzle so they decided to go back to their respective homes. Jungkook could stay over at your place and maybe talk to you if he really wants to but he’s seriously just chickening out over it.

He’s never had to make up with you because none of your previous arguments ever led to you not talking to each other, or him pushing you away. He’s never had to spend a day ignoring you. And now, there’s so much to say and so much to feel but he doesn’t know how to approach it. He’ll need tonight to sort himself out and then he’ll speak to you, maybe after he drives your parents to the airport. Or maybe on the way back.

He drops Jimin off; 30 seconds later, he’s home, too. You’re so close but so far away just like you used to be. But at least this time he knows that when the next day comes, he’ll have a chance to just pull you close and tell you he doesn’t want to be like this ever again.

There’s an incessant knocking on your door, and as you’re about to yell out that you’re asleep, you realize it might be Jungkook. You sit up on your bed and when the door opens and you see your brother instead, your face falls.

“It’s just me, unfortunately,” he says. “Kook’s back at his place.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “Why are you home so early? It’s like, 11.”

“Because after the third girl, his fake injury excuse wore off and people just didn’t believe him. We looked like losers sitting on the table eating chicken,” Jimin chuckles. “So we left after an hour then went to a park and I knocked some sense into him and now he’s not so upset anymore. And I’m here to knock some sense into you, too.”

“I already know I made a mistake, Chim. I’m… I’m so fucking stupid. I just… don’t want him to think that I’m ashamed of him or that I don’t think he’s enough or any of that. I mean I’m—”

“Crazy about him, right?”

“I kinda am,” you smile softly.

“Good, because so is he and he’s hoping you’d go talk to him even if he says he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Don’t waste time anymore and—”

You’re bolting off your bed and putting on your hoodie before your brother could finish his sentence.

“If mom and dad look for me, tell them I—”

“Got attacked by a clown in the sewer.”

You look at him incredulously then realize you’re wearing yellow then you frown.

“Just make up some excuse. I’ll… hopefully be back in the morning,” you say.

“Alright. It’s drizzling though so—”

And just like that, you’re gone.

It takes all but 10 seconds for the rain to pour, and your hoodie and sweatpants are no match for it. You groan at your brother for underselling the weather but then again, you also should be thanking him for telling you what you needed to hear - that Jungkook’s not so upset anymore and that he’s hoping you’d speak to him.

Much as you think you would’ve taken any chance today to patch things up, you also would’ve frozen in front of him. You suppose you needed to know he was ready for you, and if he wouldn’t tell you, then of course, Jimin would. You just really wish he had the foresight to know it would rain this hard but you’re probably asking for too much.

But Jungkook’s place is just a few blocks from yours so you power through. When you get there, you realize that you forgot your phone, so you make the stupid decision of climbing over the short fence and then hitting your cut finger in the process.

You have no time to feel pain though, as the next order of business is getting Jungkook’s attention. But before you can execute your plan of throwing rocks on his window, the front door opens, and you telepathically thank your brother who probably called your boyfriend to alert him that you’ll be arriving at his place wet from the rain.

“___, what are you doing here?” Jungkook asks with worry painted on his face.

“I just… I needed to come and see you,” you manage to answer.

His face softens and you feel the hope bloom in your chest. He pulls you inside by the wrist and instructs you to quietly go up the stairs. You’re at least not drenched but you still got wet, so he leads you to the bathroom to wash up. He tells you to wait as he gets you something to change in, and he returns after half a minute with a towel and a large shirt.

“Cream and band-aid, for your wound,” he says, placing them on the counter. “My room’s the second door to the right, in case you forgot.”

You take him in, in his black tank top and shorts, his tongue playing with his lip ring the way he always does when he’s nervous. You manage to nod before he heads out, and you take a quick shower and then pull his oversized shirt over you.

You quietly walk to his room, knocking on the door first before opening it slowly. It’s a bit dim but seeing him is all you need. After placing your clothes on the nearby chair, you look at him again.

He looks tired and worried. He also looks like he has so much to say but he doesn’t know where to start. There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes but there’s longing, too, and you suppose he’s mirroring how you look. You feel a lot. You also want to say a lot, but you don’t know where or how to start.

So you do the one thing you know often works. You approach him then wrap your arms around his torso. You fall into his embrace as quickly as he falls into yours, as he seems to have the same idea. You hold him tighter and pull him closer. You flush your cheeks on his chest while he buries his face on your neck. You grip his top and he does the same with yours. Your heart beats fast in longing and you feel his own do the same, too.

There’s so much to feel and say but this is all you can do. And right now, it’s quite enough.

You loosen your grip, but only so you could nuzzle his neck while your arms wrap around them. He feels so warm and he smells so delicate and he’s all you need.

“You knew I was coming?” You ask, turning to him

“Jimin said you were on your way without an umbrella and your phone,” Jungkook chuckles. But his face softens as he wipes the lone tear that falls down your cheek. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a typhoon or anything.”

“I had to get to you,” you mumble.

“He also told me he wasn’t subtle in telling you to come here.”

“Well, he did say you wanted me to talk to you. And I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear me out and I was… giving you space.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know what to do with that space without you there,” he sighs, his eyes shy and absolutely adorable.

“Neither do I,” you smile. “So, uh. Will you invite me to your bed, maybe fill that space and more?”

“Of course,” he laughs, taking your hand and leading you there.

You get under the covers and once he lies next to you, you scoot closer, hugging him again until you’re laying on top of him. But he doesn’t complain. He just hugs you back tightly, pulling you closer until he’s able to bask in your scent and the warm feel of you.

But despite the relief, you know you actually have to do the talking. You pull away and lay on your side. You take in his beauty and his softness and the way they make you feel like all is right again in the world. Your fingers trace his face, from his nose to his cheek to his lips, and he does the boyfriend thing of kissing your hand - including your cut finger - before wrapping it around his waist. He looks like he’s anticipating your words, too, so you try and hope they’re enough.

“Kook, I’m so sorry,” you start. “I… I have no excuse. I was being selfish and cowardly because I didn’t know how to tell my parents. I didn’t want to deal with what they’ll say about your job, knowing how they are and what they value and I just…”

“That’s for me to deal with though,” he says. “Because I chose this. And I’ve always known how they are but I still chose you.”

“It’s for us to deal with, and I did it so terribly,” you shake your head. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ashamed of you and what you do. That freedom, the ability to create… they’re things they don’t really understand. And I thought I knew how to make them. I just ended up denying us and that was so wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“I… I get it,” he responds, caressing your cheek now. “They worked so hard to give you this life and of course they want to make sure you’re taken care of. And for them, they only know of one way that could happen. I’d be naive to think they’ll just accept that the man who’s crazy about their daughter isn’t some corporate dude with secure employment and upward mobility in his career.”

He doesn’t miss your shy smile and the way you nibble your lip and that just triggers the butterflies in his belly.

“But that’s for me to show them that I can take care of you, and not because you can’t do it yourself but because I want to,” he adds. “I… I wanna be that person who makes things better and easier for you and who makes you happy.”

And who makes you feel loved, he doesn’t say. That’s a conversation for another day, he thinks.

“You do,” you assure him. “And I feel it everyday. You’re good at that, and I don’t tell you enough.”

“I know now,” he smiles, leaning closer to kiss you softly.

You return it but pull away. “Do you forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” he says, falling into the kiss that he gives again.

“Okay. I don’t wanna hurt you like that ever again.”

Your pouty face tugs his heart and he wants to tell you that none of that matters now because you’re back in each other’s arms, and that’ll always be enough for him.

He just hums as he goes for another kiss that’s deeper this time. And when you let him push you to lay on your back as you moan against his lips, his heart soars even more. He’s missed you, and it’s definitely going to be a long night.

He hovers over you now, and he shivers when your fingers graze his neck and then his chest. You open your legs to meet his hips, and the feel of your clothed cunt against him has his brain short-circuiting. He gets in the rhythm of grinding against you while he kisses your lips then your jaw then your neck, his hand now sneaking under your shirt to fondle your breast.

It’s when he sucks on that sensitive part near your ear that you yelp in pleasure, and he immediately covers your mouth with his hand while he giggles.

“Gotta keep it down babe,” he whispers. “My parents are in the other room.”

But he doesn’t stop his kissing and you don’t really want him to.

“It’s not like you’re making it any easier,” you moan as he pinches your pert nipple.

“I’m not and I won’t, but you gotta try,” he smirks before his lips trail downward.

You’re unable to say anything once his tongue swirls around your buds. His hands wrap around your breasts that he praises, that he kisses and licks before slowly letting them go to hold onto your waist this time. He presses open-mouth kisses down your torso, his lips in tandem with your underwear that’s teasingly being removed off of you.

You hear him let out a breathy moan as he spreads your legs wider.

And while you know that this tender-hearted man has a cheeky streak in him, you didn’t expect for him to have his finger against his lips to shush you, knowing what he’s about to do. His smug face turns you on even more, and your breath is caught in your throat once you feel his tongue flat against your flesh, warming it up before the tip of his wet muscle swirls around your nub.

But you go along with his request, biting back your moan, even as your pussy chases his mouth for more.

And it’s what he gives, as he dives in and sucks and bites your clit while his two fingers explore your hole. The cold of his lip ring is a contrast to how hot you feel, and it’s a sensation you can never get enough of. You whimper in silence but you manage to look at him, his eyes closed as he buries his face in your cunt.

“Look at me,” you whisper and he follows, his gaze meeting yours. “Fuu-uuck, Kook. You feel so good,” your voice quivers.

His mouth’s full but yours is hanging open. You cover yours with your free hand while the other pulls on his long locks. He’s enjoying this so much, you can tell with the way he squeezes your thighs and moans against your skin. He follows a pace that has your body shaking, straining in intense pleasure until it gives in. You let out a low scream as your orgasm hits, and he’s right there, riding out your high with you.

He cleans you up with his tongue and then makes a show of licking your essence off his fingers before kissing you again.

“You did good,” he teases, as he caresses your cheek.

You’re about to say that so did he when bucks his hip against yours, and the feel of his hard cock against your still wet cunt ignites another fire in you. He repeats it, and it’s what has you moaning again.

“Fuck baby, I told you to keep it down,” he says, continuing his movements.

You know you can’t help it at this point, not when he’s back to licking your neck and kneading your breast.

“Whatever. Not like this isn’t new to your parents or anything,” you say.

It’s a guess but you doubt you’re wrong.

“What? Fucking a girl in my room?”

“Yeah?”

“But you’re the first girl I ever brought in here,” he cocks an eyebrow.

“That’s uh, that’s kinda sweet,” you reply, your breath steadying now.

“Yeah and well, who gets to say they fucked their childhod crush in their childhood bedroom?” He smirks again. “I can.”

He’s back to kissing you and much as you enjoy this, the itch to feel him in your mouth overtakes you, and you take the chance when he trails down your neck.

“So, can this childhood crush suck your dick?”

“Yes, she can,” he chuckles.

He removes himself from you and leans against his bed frame. You get on your knees and pull off his boxers, salivating at the sight before you. You get on top of him, your damp lips gliding against his hard cock and his mouth drops open, an invitation for you to do what you wish.

With your movements on his hips, you focus on his neck, licking up the smooth flesh and the protruding vein that has him biting back his moan. Then you kiss him, desperately and passionately, as you slowly remove his tank top and rest your hands on his chest.

It’s your turn to trail kisses down his torso now and you give every inch of him ample attention. But when you make it further down, there’s one part of him that deserves so much more. You tease him only a little, stroking his length and kitten-licking his slit, before swallowing him whole and swirling your tongue around and all over his cock. He’s hard and thick and everything you want inside of you.

You hold back a gag while he holds back his whimpers. You stroke him relentlessly so you could watch his mouth hang open and his strained body almost folding in pleasure as his thighs tighten in your hold.

“You like that, baby?” You hum.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me. Fuck,” he keens, his voice quivering now.

You let his sounds guide you on how hard and how deep to go, but he’s the one who stops you, as he leans close and captures your lips in a searing kiss. He pulls you back on top of him to slide down his cock and the stretch makes you moan in his mouth.

He’s propped up on his arms for support while you move up and down, loving how he drags inside you in an angle that has your mind going hazy. You wrap your arms around his neck while he pushes upward to meet you, and somehow doing this while trying to be quiet is making the pleasure more intense.

It gets too much for Jungkook and he wants more. He wants to hit your deepest spots. He wants to be as close to you as he possibly can. He wants to swallow your moans and touch every part of your body and pleasure you in every way that he’s able.

So he pulls you off and lays you on your side, sliding back in from behind, with your one leg raised. The angle has you keening, even more when his one hand finds your breast and the other does its work on your clit. He pushes gently then roughly, no longer caring about the odd sounds the bed is making against his wall. He wouldn’t mind making up a reason to his parents if they ask him about it. Right now, all he wants is to reach his peak with you.

Your body is shaking in pleasure and overstimulation but you urge him, wanting to feel his seed inside you as well.

You lick his mouth. “Baby please, I want to feel your cum inside me,” you beg. “I want you so bad, fuck fuck.”

He loves it when you plead to him like this. He loves hearing what he does to you. He revels in the way your body molds into his, the way it aches to be close and to be one with him. His movements continue, and with his unrhythmic pounding against your pussy, he comes. You come right after, caused by his intense fiddling of your clit, and you feel like floating, your body in the clouds of pure pleasure.

But like always, he’s there with you, making sure you safely fall into a bed of hugs and kisses and warmth. He stays inside you as he softens, but his arms wrap around you, his face in your neck as he mumbles words of praise.

“Fifteen-year-old me would never believe this,” he heaves as he turns you over to face him.

You giggle in response.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I do. It’s how I am with you. In the best way, of course,” he smiles his boyish smile, an interesting mix of innocent and cheeky.

“It’s the same with me,” you whisper, kissing his nose. “And 18-year-old me would never believe this.”

You wake up the next morning to the alarm that you set on Jungkook’s phone. Your parents are leaving early in the afternoon and they wanted to prepare breakfast for all of you, and it’s a meal with them that you’re excited and a little nervous to have.

You kiss the chest that your face is flushed against, and this elicits a groan from the man next to you.

“Good morning, babe,” you greet, shifting up to kiss his nose this time.

“G’morning,” he grunts.

“So, uh, we’re supposed to meet my parents for breakfast. And uh, I’m going to tell them about us.”

It’s what prompts him to finally open his eyes, and the softness in them makes your heart burst.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I hope it won’t ruin their trip or anything.”

“It won’t,” you assure him. “I… I tried to get through to my mom yesterday. You know, just telling her the things I value and stuff.”

“Hmm. Jimin did the same with your dad. I guess I won’t be such a disappointment now, huh?”

“Shush, you’re not even that,” you pout. “I think they’ll understand.”

He mirrors your smile and there’s a giddy feeling at finally - hopefully - seeing your parents be happy for you. So you get off the bed and sneak out of Jungkook’s bedroom to go to the bathroom.

You wash up quickly, only to make it to the hallway and find his parents standing there, wide-eyed as they look at you in surprise. You realize you’re only wearing Jungkook’s shirt that falls just above your knees and you try to cover whatever you can with your hands.

“Hi, uncle. Hi, auntie,” you shyly smile. “This, uh, this isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”

“Well, we don’t really mind,” Jungkook’s mother smiles. “We’re just glad you’re here. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”

“I know. I, uh, I wasn’t dating your son yet the last time I was here.”

“And that calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?” She giggles. “That boy has had a crush on you since forever. It’s funny he never believed that we knew. He wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” you laugh back.

You hear a door open and before you know it, large arms are wrapping around your waist and a mop of hair tickles your cheek. Jungkook grunts against your neck as he says that he’s finally awake, and you cringe at his parents’ amused faces.

“Kook, your parents are in front of us. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nah, they don’t mind. They’re cool,” he says.

“Yeah, and my parents aren’t,” you sigh.

“So, I’m guessing your parents don’t know yet?” His father asks.

Your pout prompts him to explain. “Well, the day after you got together, our lovesick son here told our family about both of you. But he said that you haven't told your parents yet so we’ve kept it from them ever since. It’s hard since we see them all the time but we managed.”

“Kook also told us about what happened,” his mother asks. “He was grumpy all day yesterday and we got him to tell us why he was so upset.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout again. “That wasn’t my finest moment.”

You feel Jungkook’s hold on you tighten, his way of telling you it’s all okay.

“It’s alright, darling,” she smiles. “We know how your parents are, and their reasons come from a good place. We tried to make this boy here understand them and you as well. Firstborns carry immense pressure to meet expectations; he just doesn’t get it because he’s the youngest. But it seems that it’s worked out with both of you, and we’re glad it did.”

“He couldn’t resist me,” you shrug, to his parents’ amusement.

“Uh, you’re the one who walked through the rain to come see me,” he reminds you, his head popping out of your neck now.

“You wanted me to.”

He tickles you in response and you’re all laughing in no time. It’s a different dynamic with his parents, as Jungkook always had a very close relationship with them. You saw it as a teenager and now, you get to be part of it, too.

They finally let you go and ask you to have dinner with them tomorrow, and that’s one meal that you’re definitely excited to have.

You push Jungkook towards the bathroom and then return to his room to dress up. It’s shortly after when you’re both walking the few blocks to your house, fingers interlocked as you give each other comfort.

You make it home and once you unlock the door, you can already hear laughter and clanking pots from the kitchen. You head there, meet Jimin’s smug face, and clear your throat to announce your presence.

“Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you were,” your mother says. “And hi, Jungkook.”

He greets your parents and from behind you, you take his hand again.

“I went for a walk… with Jungkook.”

He clears his throat and you backtrack.

“I mean, I, uh, was at his place. That’s where I slept.”

“Oh?” Your parents say at the same time, their eyes looking at you in confusion.

“He’s kinda my boyfriend.”

“Kinda? Babe, I think I’m more than ‘kinda’ your boyfriend,” he exclaims.

Your parents look shocked and next to them, Jimin is laughing in his seat.

“I mean, he is my legit, actual boyfriend,” you correct. “The new thing in my life that I denied is actually him. And the person who stands by me, who makes me enjoy the moments? That’s him, too.”

Their faces soften, and somehow that’s the comfort you need. Perhaps all the talking that you and your brother have done has gotten into them. You wouldn’t be surprised if they talked about it, too.

“Why didn’t you tell us, then?” Your mother asks.

“Because he’s not what you expected,” you sigh. “And I didn’t know how you’d take it.”

“Well, he is your brother’s best friend,” she points out.

“Who’s had a crush on me since he was a teenager,” you explain.

“That’s… not surprising,” your father laughs. “We could tell.”

“Oh my god, Kook. You are not subtle,” you elbow him. You turn back at them. “But I… I didn’t know how to tell you because you expect me to have a partner who’s part of your world, you know? And Jungkook likes his freedom. He likes his art and… he really likes me. And I happen to really like him, too.”

“He treats you well? Makes you happy? He’s someone you can depend on when things get tough?” Your father asks.

He smiles tenderly at you and you feel like crying.

“Yes, very much,” you nod.

“Then I think he’s everything we need him to be. A good partner, I’d say.”

You let out a sigh of relief. This is all you needed to hear.

“We’re sorry if you felt like you couldn’t be honest with us,” your mother shakes her head. “I guess we just needed some reminding of what we want for you and your brother. And well, Jungkook’s shown us his heart all these years. He’s always been a part of the family and he’ll be even more.”

They’re words that Jungkook didn’t expect would get him emotional, and he hugs you from behind just to steady himself. But it’s what makes your mother walk towards him for a hug, and your father surprisingly does the same.

“Alright, I guess it’s fitting to have this family breakfast together,” your mother says.

You all take your seats at the dining table, with yours being next to Jungkook now.

Jimin cheekily smiles. “Well, if this whole dance thing doesn’t work out, I guess I can just be a counselor or family therapist or something.”

“Just don’t call your clients ‘stupid,’” you roll your eyes.

“I won’t. That’s only reserved for you.”

And just like that, everything is as it should be.

You get through breakfast with lots of laughter, as you and Jungkook tell your own versions of the story while Jimin butts in to tell his own. It’s heartwarming to see your parents this way, especially when they tease your boyfriend about his crush on you growing up.

But even they admit that they’ve depended on him all these years, too, and that they don’t doubt his loyalty and commitment to you.

You share a tense moment with him after you all drop your parents to the airport, though. Jungkook has just unloaded all their things and as they hug you goodbye, your father teases.

“Just don’t welcome us home and tell us we're grandparents already.”

Jungkook dry laughs and so do you. That’s another topic for another day, you suppose, and while you’re still unsure of having a family, you just know it’s something you’ll both talk about.

You all get home soon after to wash up. Jungkook’s excited about how you’ll spend the day now that you’re both talking again, and you suggest hanging by the beach and then going out for dinner.

Jimin says he’ll stay home to let you two make up for the past two days and so he could have that online date with Taehyung, and you agree.

You and Jungkook end up having a really good day.

You go to a mall and walk around. He gets you a pair of stud earrings to commemorate the day you went official to your parents and you buy him a silver chain necklace for the same silly reason, but also because he looks really good in one and you want him to have more. It pairs real nicely with the shirt and joggers casual outfit he’s been sporting these past days, and the teasing look he makes after he puts it on reminds you of that one time his necklace was dangling on your face when he was pounding into you on your couch.

You get fruit drinks and snacks at the stalls you both used to buy from as teenagers, then you head to the beach where you lounge until sunset. You wade in the water, splash each other, and then make out when there’s no one around.

You feel so free and light, so young and hopeful. These are the moments you love having with him, the ones you like to enjoy and savor and have more of. And you know you’ll have them for the rest of this trip and when you get back to Seoul.

Jimin joins you for dinner at a burger place, then you all buy cup noodles and beer and head to your favorite park. It’s just like how most of your nights together go, just in the outdoors. You and your brother bicker and Jungkook referees; there’s also the occasional “you’re so cheesy” comment from you to your boyfriend and Jimin’s gagging sound.

You confirm plans for the rest of the trip. Your parents will be enjoying Hawaii for close to two weeks, and you have all that time to rest and spend time with your two favorite people. You’ll be off work. Jungkook has some projects to finalize while you do your own thing, and Jimin will be watching dance shows to get him inspired.

But there are more beaches and parks and villages to visit. There’s also that two-night stay at a resort you’ll be having. There are other sites and restaurants to go to, and you’ll be reliving your teenage years together while making new memories.

You’re now back at home, snug in Jungkook’s arms as he leans against the bed frame in your room, with you in between his legs.

“Today was a really good day,” you say, turning to him after he kisses your cheek.

“Today was amazing,” he hums.

He smiles as he replays the scenes of you shopping for each other, frolicking on the beach, and walking around your favorite spots. They’re all so simple and things you’ve done before but today felt so much more. There was a look in your eyes that held such tenderness and care for him. You held his hand as if you didn’t want to ever let go, as if you didn’t want him to.

“I really like you, Kook,” you mumble, almost like a confession, as if it’s not known. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

His eyes soften, as does his smile that he’s had on pretty much the whole day. But he just looks at you, and though you know he feels the same way, you want to hear him verbalize it again.

“Hey, say it back,” you nudge him.

“I love you though,” he says after a beat of silence.

You’re now the one who looks at him, unable to say a word.

“Are you that surprised?” He looks back at you nervously, nibbling his lip ring. “I mean, I think it’s quite obvious, just like everything I feel about you is.”

“Kook, I…” you try, but you don’t exactly know how to respond.

You don’t doubt his feelings but somehow you can’t help but think that maybe right now, he loves the idea of you and not you, and there’s a difference.

“I think I always have but I guess I didn’t realize just how much until this whole thing happened,” he continues, wanting you to understand what he feels. “I asked Jimin why it was affecting me so much and he said it’s because I put you on a pedestal. You were this dream I’ve had for so long that I admired from a distance and now I get to be with you and you’re… human, not some flawless being who doesn’t make mistakes. So when you hurt me, I faltered. That’s on me, too. Because I… I expected too much. And I’m sorry.”

His focus is on his hands that are playing with yours before he turns to you again.

“I realized that I wanted so badly for you to want me, that’s why it hurt. I wanted to be that person you cared for and trusted and needed because you’re all that for me. And when I saw you at my door last night, nothing else mattered but you,” he continues.

“Whatever misunderstanding or mistake or disagreement, I learned to accept them and I just wanted you, in my arms, so I could show you that you’re all I need. I’ve dreamt of you for so long and this version of you is more than I could’ve imagined. And I just… I love you, okay? It doesn’t matter how you feel. I just need you to know that I do, and I don’t think I’ll stop.”

Your heart is about to burst, and all you could do is cup his face in your hands and kiss him, hard and deep until you run out of air. You kiss him eagerly because you’re desperate for his touch. You kiss him passionately because there are things you feel that you can’t put into words yet, and this is how you tell him.

He’s quick to follow your pace, wrapping his arms around your waist as he helps you sit on his lap. Your fingers comb through his hair and grip his top and pull him closer, all while you grind against him and moan in his mouth.

But when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caresses your cheek, you go tender.

“I love you so much,” he whispers against your lips, and all you feel is the warmth of his touch and how it’s all the comfort and security and stability that you need.

You slowly pull away and graze your nose against his. You don’t say anything else and he doesn’t expect you to. But you kiss his cheek and hug him, and you hear him sigh in relief.

He pulls away and cheekily smiles.

“You know, there’s a song for this.”

“A—what?” You laugh.

“A song.”

He pulls away from you then stands from the bed. “Let me get it from Jimin’s room.”

You stare at him questioningly because you really didn’t think he could surprise you even more. He returns with one of his burned CDs and you ask him if he has a sex playlist or something.

“I used to daydream about you to this,” he says, as he puts it in the CD player that your parents got you for your 17th birthday. “I listened to it after that very kiss we had and, well, we’re back home rehashing so many memories and I kinda just want to fulfill another fantasy of mine.”

He plays the song and the first notes get you all giddy and excited and nostalgic and very much turned on.

“This was my favorite song,” you say, as you signal him to come closer.

“I know. You played it all the time, I could hear it from the other room.”

You giggle, and it’s a sound he wants to listen to forever.

“So, what’s this fantasy of yours?” You ask, as you take your shirt off.

He licks his lips at the breathtaking sight of you, but he softens at the fairy tattoo on your shoulder, the one he customized and that you love showing off.

“Just… make love to you while this plays in the background,” he manages to say.

Your face softens, too, and it’s a sight he also wants to see everyday of his life.

“I’m all yours, Kook. Do whatever you please.”

It’s a week later when you tell him.

You’d just gotten back from that short trip to a resort that had you relaxed and stuffed with food. You video called with your parents during their sunset cruise and your father once again teased about not being grandparents yet and just like the first time, you brushed it off.

You’re lying on Jungkook’s chest as you laugh about Jimin’s terrible bowling skills. And in the silence, he asks, “does it bother you that your parents expect you to have kids?”

You knew he’d picked up on it the first time, but it’s just now that he’s bringing it up.

“A little. I try not to think about it though,” you sigh. “It’s another one of those expectations, you know? But I guess it’s a harder thing to talk to them about, that I don’t know if I want kids.”

He just hums and combs your hair with his fingers.

“Does it bother you?” You ask, suddenly feeling nervous. You know enough this is a make-or-break for many people.

“Not really,” he says. “It’s not easy to raise a child, much less carry one, and that’s something I can’t do for you. But I guess, it doesn’t matter. We can have kids. Or not. We can have a dog or a pet tortoise or a fish, really. When I think of a future, all I see is you. The rest is just a bonus.”

He speaks of your future with such certainty. He’s always talked about enjoying the moments but the one version of a future he wants is the one where you’re with him.

“I just want you to know that whatever you’re worried about, share it with me. I don’t want you to worry about me. We do this together. We figure it out together,” he adds.

And just like that, the fears and pressure you feel slowly dissipate. He’s the only version of the future you want. Everything else is just a bonus.

You turn to him with a kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Kook. I don’t want anyone else to love me, and I don’t want to love anybody else,” you whisper like a plea, just like a promise.

“I’m not loving anybody else,” he kisses you.

And it’s his own promise he makes.

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luminiamore · 8 months ago

Text

SWEET.

sugar daddy nanami kento x black hyperfem reader

warnings: brat tamer nami, super duper big arms actually, spoiled reader, he’s a bit mean, he’s such a man omg, public sex, squirting, creampie, you'll almost get caught, mirror sex

masterlist

“Excuse me, Sir? Is this seat taken?”

A sweet voice interrupts Nanami’s focus on the book in his lap, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. The train's movements cause his body to sway slightly. He holds in a breath, really not in the mood to speak, but he's a gentleman. So, he looks up anyway.

He doesn't feel disappointed, actually the opposite. He's never seen anyone as beautiful as you. Your brown skin is smooth and clear, and your lips are glossed and full, with a slight pout. The makeup you put on was such a compliment to your face that it made you look like.. a doll. With eyes that made him seem like your salvation, you stared down at him.

Where did you come from?

“I’m sorry to bother you! It’s just- I’ve been trying to find a seat for a few minutes, and my feet are starting to really hurt. God, I should’ve never worn heels.”

You’re talking to him. He quickly comes to the realization that staring at your moving lips would make him appear creepy. Your voice was a little.. distracting. He clears his throat as he catches his lips quip up in amusement,

“It’s not taken. Please, sit.” You're walking towards the seat near the window, following his hips as they adjust to allow you to pass in front of him. Your clothes were... to say it bluntly, provocative. Your skirt was pink. He found that cute. But it was short, way too short to be worn out in public.

As you leaned down to prevent hitting the overhead storage area, his eyes caught the fat brown pussy lips poking out from the sides of your panties. Who the fuck let you go out like that?

You were wearing a strapless top that was also pink. The word 'BRAT,' which was printed in a bold white color, caught his attention. Hm, is that so?

You sit down, and now the blond man is hyper-fixating on your plush thighs pressing next to his. He’s interrupted by your sweet voice again, “Thank you, Sir. You’re too kind!”

He attempts to offer a smile, but he observes that your face is already buried in your phone, and your medium-length French tip nails echo a tapping sound. Well, now that won’t do. He wants your eyes on him again, your attention on him again. So he decides to speak,

“You headed somewhere important?” He acknowledges that this isn't the most ideal thing to ask a beautiful lady, especially during a train ride. His thoughts were running wild, and he was desperately trying to come up with something to say to you. He hopes you don't overthink it, but you look like the ditzy type.

You stop your typing and look up with your mind in thought, “Hmm, not really,” Your eyes turn to him and his cock twitches.

“I’m just going to meet up with some friends at the mall. The amount of walking I’m about to do is going to kill me but I can’t really do nothing since my car’s in the shop.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Nanami observes that you have no filter or awareness that you may be talking too much. Either that, or you're so self-confident that you don't care. Regardless of what it is, he discovers that it is something he enjoys. He has the opportunity to ask more questions and hear your voice in his ears for just a moment longer.

You sit up straight, and now... Your body is facing him. And now he can see the nipple piercings that are pressing through your top. Nanami grits his teeth and forces his eyes to look at your wide ones.

Were you doing this on purpose? You have to be, but when he looks into your eyes, he finds no evidence of any alternate motives. That, or you were good at being coy.

“Well, somebody crashed into it when it was parked. And it was so bad, there was a weird creaking sound every time I drove! So now it’s in the shop, and it’s staying there.” You’re pouting again. And Nanami finds that he doesn’t like that hopeless look on your face. He has a burning desire to fix it, to alleviate any problems you're facing.

His voice grows soft and tender as he gazes into you, “It’s staying there?”

“I haven’t paid for the fix yet. So, the mechanic guy won’t give it t’me.” You shift in your seat. As you browse through your photos, he watches as you click on a picture of a pink Mercedes with its rear end completely broken. The color didn't catch him by surprise; in fact, he was more amused than anything.

“I see. Is there a reason you haven’t paid yet?”

Your brows furrow, and your head drops slightly as a sign of embarrassment. He thinks you're so cute. Nanami wonders if you have a job. You don’t look like the type to raise your perfectly manicured nails, and if you were his, he would never let you.

“Well... I’m in between jobs right now. My daddy won’t lend me any more money, and he told me yesterday, ‘You spend too much, and I can’t keep paying for your expensive shit.’”

Your bubbly, soft tone gets higher in pitch as you try to imitate your father's voice. You pivot and grasp Nanami's massive bicep through his blue dress shirt with your fingers. You notice a slight flush of your cheeks as you shift your eyes to where you grabbed it. He's so big that both your hands can barely wrap around the entirety of it.

Your eyes look up at him, “And y’know I get it! But ever since he got his new girlfriend, she’s been telling him these things. He never felt this way before!”

Your hand is covered by his, his veiny and large hand. You seemed really shaken up by this, and he can’t stand it. Someone as beautiful and perfect as you should not have to suffer like that. He wants to make your life easier; he wants you not to be bothered by such trivial matters.

As one hand raises your chin, his finger softly moves back and forth. His warmth makes the hairs on your skin prickle. “I’m very sorry about that, sweetheart. Would paying for your fix make you feel better? I can get a car to take you to your friends as well.”

You gasp and immediately shake your head, “Oh no, sir! I couldn’t ask you to do that. I-I mean, you’re a strang-”

“Kento, my name is Kento. And don’t be silly. I have more than enough to spend.”

“But-”

“No buts, sweetheart. I just met you, but I don’t like seeing a frown on that pretty face. Let me take care of your troubles the best I can.”

That day, you left the train with his number, and he left with your name. His generosity didn't end there. Kento started paying for a lot of your stuff, and eventually, he sent you money every day, making it such a habit that he just gave you one of his black cards. He would only ask for your company as compensation. There's nothing sexual about this, in fact.

Kento would go above and beyond to spend time with you, even leaving his job in the middle of the day to care for you. During your shopping sprees, he would hold your bags while you ramble about your week as you walked into another store. When you came to him crying about your dad's girlfriend not giving you a break, he decided to buy you your own apartment. It goes without saying that he pays for both your rent and all of your utilities. He would take you out for dinner and treat you to the finest high-end places because he knows that's what you deserve. The finest, and only the finest.

Nanami takes pride in the amount of self-control he has. Almost nothing gets under his skin.. but you. You and the short skirts you wear. You and your tight outfits. You and the way you bend down in front of him, exposing your pink lace panties. He tries to keep his eyes away, but he sometimes feels as if you're doing this on purpose. You must be.

And the truth is, you were. Nanami was the most attractive man you ever had the pleasure of seeing. Not only that, but his company has become something you've come to love. Ever since you met him on that crowded train, you've had lewd thoughts about him. Thoughts of him feigning a sex attack, thoughts of him bending you over and drilling his cock into you. You wanted him so badly, but he refused to do anything with you. It was making you crazy.

But you didn't know how to directly say that you want him to fuck your brains out. You opted for giving him hints, bending over in front of him, brushing against his thighs. Once, you managed to sit on his lap while he cooked you dinner at his home. He never moved, never did anything except keep his hands on your hips. That was enough to make you wet.

On a Tuesday afternoon at Japan's biggest mall, Nanami reached his limit. Your mini white heels were clacking on the tile floor as you entered the Victoria's Secret store, looking for the newest Valentine's Day set. This isn't his first time going shopping with you for lingerie, so he's not bothered in the slightest. Picking up the set and asking him to judge how it looks on you is what surprises him. You've never done that before.

“Please Nami, I have a date tomorrow and I’m hoping I can show him!”

A date? What the fuck do you have a date for?

The situation confuses Nanami. Antsy. Annoyed. He has a sense of jealousy. He can tell. You were his. Only his. You don't need a sluggish, limp-dick man who probably couldn't find your g-spot spot. You needed a man. You needed him. What advantage does your date have over him? What can your date do that he doesn't currently do for you? Are you insane?

He is unaware that you don't actually have a date. You were lying and trying to get him to react once more. You are the epitome of a brat. Kento doesn’t like brats. He breaks them.

You flick your pretty eyelashes at the 6'4 man who stares down at you with an unamused expression on his face. You’re pouting again, and Nanami really hates that he says yes to you. When you look at him like that, he can't say no. It's so hard to say no, but he's tired. Tired of the way you rile him up, he's sure that you're just hoping for a reaction from him. He has to put an end to this.

“..Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You're too occupied with other sets to notice that his voice becomes deeper when he speaks.

Nanami doesn't go into the dressing room with you. He planned to wait on the small, bright pink benches outside. Your angelic voice called out to him to help you with the zipper on a corset, ruining his plan. He loves helping you. It actually makes his day when he makes yours easier in any way. So, he agrees.

His breath hitsched when he pulls back the curtain. Oh fuck. You were... In red panties, the stockings lie softly on your thighs. While staring in the mirror, your brown skin is visible to him, and the corset is loosely hanging off your shoulders. You are a sight to behold—a sight of beauty, delight, and sweetness.

He creeps up on you slowly as though he doesn't want to frighten you. The moment he pulls both ends of the top together, you release a cute gasp. The zipper's faint sound as it rises makes you shiver when his hands brush against you. Once he's finished, his hands rest on your waist, your warmth radiating onto him. His voice, grave and breathless, causes you to catch your breath when he speaks,

“This is what y’re wearing? For your.. date?”

You hum and turn your body side to side to look at how the set fits on you.

“Uhuh! Y’think he’ll like it?” He tilts his head and observes your ass moving slightly with every move you make.

“Hm. What reaction do you suppose you’ll get out him?”

His fingertips can be felt on the panty line as he plays with it and pulls the band. You leap when it snaps itself back to your skin. His other hand is reaching in front of you and grazing your pussy

“Something like this?” The lace that clings to your pussy is grasped by his big hand, and you let out a pathetic whimper at the sight of it. You’re dripping. It wasn't your stupid date that caused this, it was all because of him. You succumb to his grip, and, of course, he steadies you.

“K-Ken?” Your voice squeaks out.

He pays no attention to you and only looks at the slick on his fingers when he moves away from your cunt. You're seeing all this through the mirror, watching his every move. Despite having dreamed about this moment every night, you still feel a little nervous. His expression in the mirror seems... upset.

“Y’know, sweetheart, I am tired.” His hands slowly take the panties off of you, allowing them to fall to your heels on the floor.

“Tired of how you tease me.”

He spreads your folds out from under you, letting the moisture drip all over his palm as he slides up and down. He groans when you emit the most adorable moan right next to his ear. God, you were so precious. He wanted you all to himself.

He scoffs, “A date. The hell do you need a date for? Y’need someone to fuck you, is that it? Someone to teach you some manners?” He slid his two thick fingers into your wet mound, scolding you when you let out a dirty mewl.

“Quiet sweetheart, bad girls don’t get to make a sound.”

He pushes them in deeper, immediately finding your spongy, and presses into it repeatedly. You tremble in his arms, pressing your hands to muffle your moans.

He murmurs to you, battling against the squelching noise your pussy is making. Your knees are buckling, but there's another hand pressing on your stomach to keep you upright and amplify the pressure you're feeling in your stomach. “I treat you so good. I buy you whatever you want, I make sure you’re always eating good. And yet you still insist on being a brat.”

He seethes in your ear, watching your pretty eyes roll back in the mirror. Kento feels that your loudness is causing you to forget you're in public. At this point, he doesn't care much. Throughout all of this, Kento is pulling down his zipper, freeing his hard dick from his boxers.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m gonna fuck you. Gonna fuck you so hard you forget all about that stupid date.” He stops finger-fucking you and leaves your sopping cunt suddenly, causing you to whimper at the loss.

Without warning, he plunges his fat cock deep into you and immediately presses his hand on your mouth to stop you from screaming. Your body falls back against him, leaving you drooling against his palm. It was too much, but you loved it. Had you known it would result in this, you would have done this a long time ago. Your body felt stuffed as he sucked his length in and out of you, observing how your pussy creams every time it disappeared inside.

Kento thinks you're perfect. Every aspect of your being is perfect. The way you squeezed around him almost made him forget that this was your punishment. Shit, you felt so good that he doesn't even want to carry on with the punishment anymore.

“There you go, sweetheart. Shh, just take it.”

You whine against his palm, your eyes barely open as this man is practically splitting you in half. You were both pouring your juices onto the floor, creating a small puddle below you. “Fuck. Such a messy girl.”

Your haze and pleasure make it impossible for you to hear footsteps coming near you and Kento. But he did, and he figures... It's a good idea to torment you a bit. So he speeds up his pace, letting the music drown out the light papping sound his thrusts and balls are making on your clit. If it's even possible.

“Miss? Is everything alright? D’you need any help?”

Your surprise is evident when your mind recognizes the voice of one of the employees. Fuck. No.

Nanami whispers into your ear, low enough for only you to hear, “Better answer her, sweet girl. Wouldn’t want her to suspect anything, hm?”

He’s so mean. Speaking is not an option when he's drilling into you like a madman. Fuck, could the poor lady even hear the noise? You're shaking, and you really can't help the yelp you let out every time his cock gets buried so deep inside of you. You rapidly nod against his hand, desperately attempting to do anything for him to keep fucking you like this. His hand slowly descends from your lips and grasps your covered tits in the corset, never once halting his pace inside you.

“Miss?” She speaks again, and you answer quickly so she can leave,

“I-I’m okay! Still- Ah! t-trying the s-set on.”

Nanami thinks you’re so cute as you try to keep your voice steady, chuckling to himself when you moan out in between your words. He thinks it's unfortunate when you're forced to speak again due to the lady's persistent pestering.

“..Are you sure? You don’t sound-”

“Yes! E-Everything’s f-fine, I’ll be r-right out!” You cut her off, your mind still reeling from the strong blows that Nanami never ceases to give you.

You faintly hear her muttering an 'Okay' before her heels recede into the crowded store. In all honesty, you believe you're starting to hear colors now. He was fucking you so good, and when you feel that familiar fire pit burning in your lower abdomen, you know what's coming. Or, in this case, who’s coming. You.

Nanami knows it, too, because your cunt just squeezed twice as hard on him. It’s practically pulsing open and close. You’re trying to fucking milk him.

“Good job, sweetheart. Y’gonna be my good girl from now on?” His hand doesn't even bother to cover your mouth anymore. Instead, his fingers reach down to your pulsating clit and start rubbing in tight circles. You forcefully bite your lip to prevent screaming out, savoring the metallic taste of blood on your tongue.

Nanami knows that if you let go of your lips right now, you're going to attract attention. He doesn't want that type of distraction at the moment, so he's not too upset about your quick nod as a response. He doesn't even think you know what he's saying, too drunk from the sensation of his cock to think about anything else other than that. Even so, you're saying yes. You, indeed, are perfect.

“Think you deserve to cum? I think you do, you were so good earlier talking to that lady. So cum, sweetheart. Make a mess f’me, yeah?”

That you definitely heard. It seems your pussy did, too, because she doesn't hesitate to squirt all over the floor. The mirror was being sprayed with your overflowing juices. Throughout it all, he was intensely watching you through the mirror, observing the face you make when you cum. It was so beautiful. The way your brows scrunch, and your eyes roll back, almost into your skull. The sight was enough for him to conceal his groans in your silk press, cumming so deeply inside of you that you thought it reached your womb.

Heavy breathing was all that could be heard under the faint music buzzing through the speakers. As Nanami slips out of you, you let out a whimper and gaze into the now-wet mirror, watching as he crouches down to where both he and your fluids are dripping out of you. You hear him mutter a curse under his breath, shivering when he runs his finger through your slightly gaping cum stuffed hole.

He lifts his finger, slipping it into his mouth to taste the aftermath of your.. lovemaking. He can detect some of your juices and his own. He only utters one word when he releases his finger with a pop,

“Sweet.”

He rises, gathers your clothes, and pockets the panties you wore when you initially came into the store. He believes that letting you confront people with his cum dripping down your thighs is an appropriate punishment. He pauses when he recalls something, “That date of yours tomorrow? Cancel it.”

Oh right! You didn't let him know that there wasn't a date.

“Kento?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“…I lied about having a date.”

Nanami freezes. His hands hold your skirt by your knees, and his eyes immediately catch yours in the mirror. He chuckles and shakes his head in astonishment when he realizes that this was your plan all along.

Despite not saying much, he whispers in a raspy voice,

“Brat.”

tags🏷️: @hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp

#lumiwrites #nanami kento smut #kento nanami #kento smut #nanami kento #kento nanami x black reader smut #kento x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk nanami #jjk x black reader #fanfic

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pprodsuga · 1 year ago

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i’m serious about you

summary: gojo realizes just how much he likes you when you go on your first date

note: feeling a bit soft for gojo rn so pls enjoy this little scenario…it’s 2am and i just wanna write something before i go to bed <3 gojo is probably a little ooc but this is my blog so!!!

i’m a lil rusty when ur comes to writing fics but i hope u enjoy!

warnings: fluff fluff fluff + she/her pronouns

masterlist :)

“I’m surprised this place is open so late.”

You mutter absentmindedly as you look at the pastries behind the glass, face at a respectable distance while Gojo stands beside you. He leans down to see what you see, his own eye catching the chocolate cake sitting on the top shelf.

“Nanami told me about it a while ago,” he explains. “Says he likes to come here when he can’t sleep since they’re open so late.”

“Do you like this bakery?”

Gojo watches as you pick and choose which pastries you want to try. The girl behind the counter lifts her gaze to him, eyes widening before averting her gaze to the small box in her hands.

“Haven’t tried it, actually,” Gojo says. He rubs the back of his neck when you turn around. “I, uh, wanted to wait. To try it with you, I mean.”

He sees your mouth morph into a shy smile and he can’t help but return it. Gojo turns and orders a beverage from the cashier, watching as her fingers fumble with the buttons before she relays the bill.

You’re about to pull out your wallet when Gojo reacts quicker than you can comprehend. You watch as he gives his credit card to the cashier without batting an eyelash. He laughs when you huff and grumble about being able to pay for the pastries since he paid for dinner, but he bumps his hips with yours and tells you it‘s on him.

You look so perfect under the awful fluorescent lights in your best dress and hair let down. He’s not used to seeing you like this; so carefree without your worries tucked away in that pretty little head of yours.

Gojo used to think he’d make it through life without relying on anyone and that he couldn’t count on other people for his own source of happiness and companionship. But he can’t deny there’s something about you that tugs at his heart strings a bit too aggressively.

This feeling follows him to the morning prior, when he asked you to accompany him to dinner. Gojo had guessed that you liked him more than you let on but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same. This new sensation in the pit of his stomach travels with him tonight, especially when he takes a step back to fully absorb the way you look in his jacket. It dwarfs your shorter stature yet Gojo thinks it was made for you to wear.

The girl behind the counter turns around to finish the order, leaving the two of you to your wits for the time being. Gojo senses that this—casual dating or otherwise—isn’t something you do often. He silently thanks Shoko for drilling him about you (likes, dislikes, who you are as a person aside from the so-called friend group you two belong in) because he sees your finger tapping against the side of your leg and decides to make a move.

“I really like spending time with you,” Gojo starts. “I could do this again and again if you let me.”

“Really?” you ask, sounding something akin to disbelief. Your dress follows your movements as you turn around but all Gojo can focus on is the way your cheeks begin to blush. How cute.

He takes a step forward, nodding. “Believe it or not, I really enjoy spending all of my money on cute girls.”

“Is that so?“ you ask with an uptick in your voice. “Wonder if I’m the cutest, then.”

Gojo knows you’re joking by the way you’re smiling at him, but he wants to set the record straight.

“You are,” he says, “because you’re the only one.”

A soft sound distracts the two of you and he looks past your shoulder to see the cashier has set his beverage on the counter. Gojo thanks her and grabs the cup when he notices notices she’s written her phone number on the back of the surface. His stomach drops when he sees your eyes linger on the penmanship.

He panics.

“I must be special.”

Your voice lacks the humor from moments prior, eyes glazing over the written numbers while Gojo pathetically stands like he’s a frozen statue. He doesn’t know why he cares what you think of him nor why he wants to disprove the theory that he can’t settle down because of an innate need to flirt with everything that breathes. He watches you swallow and avert your gaze to the exit sign when he nods furiously.

“Yeah, you are.”

Gojo throws the beverage in the trash can beside him and cups your jaw in both of his hands to pull you into a tender kiss in the middle of a poorly lit bakery with two other patrons. He thinks your lips taste like coconut and sugar, so soft that he could keep his mouth on you forever and never complain.

He must be doing something right because you’re kissing him back.

You pull away first and he laughs at your flustered state, leaning in to press another quick kiss to your lips before you can escape him. He pays no mind to the girl who walks into the back room.

“I’ll spend however long it takes to make you understand that I’m serious about you,” Gojo promises.

“You better send Nanami a thank you card.” You grab the box of pastries. “Taking me here was a good start.”

Yeah, he thinks. She’s the one.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x oc #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x oc #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru fluff #ahhh it’s been so long since i’ve written fanfics and it’s 2am #very sorry for any poor writing choices #but i hope you liked it!#<3 #my writing

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 9 months ago

Text

Lover's Quarrel

Pairing: Dark (aged-up) Katsuki Bakugo x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: You get away from Bakugo’s toxic clutches. But soon your peace comes to an end.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; minor Violence/Abuse.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

I just realized today is his birthday, so here it is :) hope you guys like this.

–

“...you better damn pick up my calls, (Y/N). I’m losing my patience here so you better get that fucking attitude out of your system or I’ll do it for you. Swear to god I’m gonna drag your stupid ass back home if you don’t come to your damn senses and if you fucking think that-”

You press a button, closing the voicemail with a sigh. Throwing your phone to the bed’s edge, you turn your back to it, curling yourself into a ball.

Your mind is an unstable whirlwind of thoughts and worries and a solitary tear rolls down your face. It’s not fair.

None of this is fair.

You pull the blankets over you, but even their warmth isn't enough to calm the cold that scatters through your body.

A sob breaks your composure and you hastily push your face into the pillow, smothering down the ugly sobs and whines that break out.

It takes a long time until your eyes are finally dry and you have no more tears to weep.

But even afterwards, as you finally fall asleep, the heavy feeling still weighs on your heart.

Ding.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Your friend looks at you and you’re quick to mute the notifications that pop up, eyes catching sight of the messages that Bakugo is spamming you before you black the screen.

“I know I’ve asked before, but is everything really okay?” she asks, ignoring the movie on display in favor of looking at you, a concerned wrinkle settling between her brows.

“You seem… so distracted ever since you came. Is it about Bakugo?”

You shift on the couch, uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing.” you hesitantly tell her, measuring your words carefully. None of your friends know about the depth of Bakugo’s dark side and you’d rather not involve them.

Even though you’re almost sure that she suspects something is up, especially with the unannounced way you dropped by unannounced a couple of days ago, asking if you could stay a few days.

“You can tell me, you know that, right? I’m not gonna judge or whatever.”

You nod, giving her a small smile but no words come out of you despite the hefty weight on your mind. You don’t want to burden her with your problems.

“I know, don’t worry. We’re just giving it some time. Lover’s quarrel and all.” you try to joke even though there's no humor in your smile.

"I see, okay." your friend draws a small smile, hesitating for a moment before letting it be.

Work drags far too slowly.

Boring paperwork to be filled, a few documents that need reviewing.

Nothing that actually manages to successfully distract you away from your current problems. If anything, it leaves you with far too much time for your mind to wander through your situation.

A definitive break-up is more complicated than what it seems as you’re aware that Bakugo won’t peacefully accept that.

Just the idea of having to deal with an even angrier Katsuki has you cowering further into your chair and you distract yourself by opening your work email, digging into the emails that need to be answered.

You’ll think about Bakugo later.

“Later” arrives much earlier than what you expect.

When the clock hits 6 p.m you reluctantly turn off the computer, gathering your jacket and your purse.

When you check your phone out of habit, the lack of messages surprises you. Strange.

Maybe Bakugo is finally catching the hints that you want to be left alone? You sure hope so.

You couldn’t be more wrong about it and you almost jump when your co-worker shrieks in delight, nudging your arm as you retrieve your car keys from the purse.

“Oh god, he’s so cute, damn. Seems like someone was eager to see you.”

Your heart drops at the sight of the blonde man that leans against your car, crimson eyes fixed on you.

“You’re so lucky. My boyfriend never comes to pick me up.” she whines before finally saying a distracted goodbye, throwing adoration filled glances at Bakugo when she walks away.

For a moment, you consider leaving your car in the open parking-lot. You could take the bus to your friend’s apartment. It would be no big deal, only half an hour before reaching her place.

But the impassive expression on your boyfriend’s face warns you not to ignore him and you don’t doubt Bakugo’s ability to cause a overly explosive scene right in front of your workplace.

Your legs walk on their own towards him and he straightens up, pushing himself off the hood as he walks to you, meeting you half-way, far too close for your comfort.

He’s wearing civilian clothes, you notice. They make his firm muscles bulge from beneath the thin material, the veins in his arms popping out with his hands hidden in the pant’s pockets, as always.

“What do you want?”

“Can we talk?” he asks.

“Talk then.”

Irritation seeps into Bakugo’s face. He’s never had much patience.

“We can talk in your car. The keys.”

Despite his stretched hand, you don’t deposit the keys in his palm. It’s your car. It’s your life. You have to fight for it.

“Y/n.”

You take a step back, shaking your head.

“If you wanna talk, then we can talk here. Out in the open.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with ire, and it compels you to take another tiny step away from him.

“Will you stop fucking stepping away from me?” his voice booms loudly through the empty parking lot, eliciting a wince from you. “Quit acting like I’m gonna beat you to a bloody pulp or somethin’. I’m just trying to take you back home, you idiot.”

“But I’m not going back.”

“You are.”

You clench your teeth, hoping it would help ease out the incoming flow of angry tears that threatens to spill at any moment now.

“I said. I’m not going back.”

Bakugo ignores your words, losing his patience upon your refusal.

“Like hell you aren’t. I’ve had enough of this stupid attitude of yours.”

His hand latches to your wrist, holding it in a bruising grip, tight enough for you to feel the bones in your hands being painfully compressed together.

“Ah, Katsuki, you’re hurting me!” you cry out, attempting to release his grip by using your free hand.

But your fingers are far too weak to pull him away and he groans when your nails scratch him. It makes him grip your hand harder and you sob, body limpless following forward when Bakugo tugs you in his direction.

You bump into his hard chest, head sharply pulled back with his callous hand enveloping the back of your neck, his large palm easily covering all of it.

The tall hero doesn’t even bother looking around, unafraid of the possibility of someone walking by. Bakugo’s never been one to be overzealous, much less now that the position on Pro Hero Number 2 belongs to him.

“You’ve had your fun these past days. But it’s over now, y’hear me?” the tips of his fingers dig into your neck, and you’re barely able to hold his threatening gaze, already knowing that you’re not coming out on top of this.

“You’re coming back home with me. No fuckin' fuss, no complaining, and that’s final. Like hell I’m gonna let you get away from me, so you better start fixing that attitude.”

He squeezes your neck, looking at you with deadly eyes.

“You hear me? Brat.”

He keeps his hand on the back of your neck when guiding you to your own car, unceremoniously pushing you to the passenger’s seat before claiming the steering wheel for himself.

A few tears escape from your eyes and you turn your face to the window, ignoring the sharp looks Bakugo throws your way.

You hug yourself, all of your hope dissolving at the realization that you’re never truly gonna be free from him.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #mha x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere katsuki bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo #tw: toxic relationships #tw: yandere

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lucyandthepen · 1 year ago

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salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

try on

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, public, blowjob, car head (but hes not driving)

“what the fuck is this flimsy shit?” rafes fingers feel the material of the changing room curtain after he hung the clothes up that you've been piling up in his arms while you flitted around the store.

“i know, i wish they had a door.” you say with a roll of your eye. you set your bag and phone down on the stool before turning to rafe. “thanks baby, you can sit down.” you gesture towards the couches in the fitting rooms, already a couple other boyfriends lounging around.

“alright…” rafe eyes the curtain wearily before cupping your jaw, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

when he sits down, rafe makes sure to plop down on a cushion that allows him an easy line of sight to your changing room. you are blissfully unaware of rafes displeasure as you changing into the first dress, finding it a little too tight but still deciding to step out and show rafe.

“what do you think?” you walk between the couches, not noticing the eyes of the other men also looking at you. you assume since rafe would never even glance at another girl that the other boyfriends would give you anything more than a quick look.

you twirl around so rafe can see the back of the dress. “i think it's a little too tight around my ass, do you like it though?”

“shit, baby.” rafe groans, standing up and frowning at the men who quickly look away as he puts his hands on your hips, pushing you back towards your changing room.

“what is it rafe?” you whine, almost tripping over as he moves you back into the small room.

“they were all staring at you baby!” he grunts out.

“okay?” you cross your arms, pushing your chest up even more in the low cut dress, almost breaking rafes attention. “why do you care anyone else looks at me? you know im yours.”

“because, men are fucking creeps.” rafe says. “and you look really fucking hot in this dress, but yeah it's too tight.”

“okay.” you nod, rubbing your hands over rafes shoulders. “let me try on my next dress, yeah?” hoping your soft tone calms him down.

“fine.” rafe huffs, accepting your kiss as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his as rafes hand moves down from your waist to grip your bum.

“be out in a minute.” you step away, smirking at rafe as you pull the curtain closed. rafe cautiously takes his seat again, eyeing the men who suddenly all have their eyes casted down.

rafe glares as one of the guys stands up to head back into the main section of the store, and rafe swears that he tries to peak past the edge of your curtain, his head turning just enough when passing your dressing room that rafe shoots to his feet.

“rafey, is that you baby?” you call when a shadow darkens your curtain, hands coming to hold either edge to the wall, keeping it taut.

“it’s okay, just change.” rafe grunts.

“i’m in my next dress, do you wanna see?” you call.

rafe tugs the curtain open just enough for him to step inside. “i love it. we’re getting it.” rafe says, taking the clothes that you haven’t tried on yet off the hook, hanging them over his arm. “we’re getting all of them.” “but i haven’t tried them on yet.” you pout.

“you can give me a personal try on fashion show at home baby, lets just go.” rafe leans to pick up the clothes you came in in off the seat, pressing them into your hands.

“okay, okay.” you sigh, taking the dress off under rafes watchful eye before redressing, adding the dress to the heap of clothing in his arms. “whats got you so worked up?”

“just wanna get home.” rafe says, tired of being on guard, needing to just be at peace with you in his arms, no other man around.

“okay, baby.” you coo, wrapping your arm around rafes bicep as he carries the clothes out of the changing area and towards the register.

rafe doesn’t make a big deal of paying, he never does, loving to spoil you, especially when most of the clothes you buy you wear for him.

he takes the bags of clothing before you can even reach for them, his hand coming to the small of your back as he leads you out of the shopping mall, towards the parking lot.

“rafey, slow down.” you complain as he hustles through the car park. “my legs aren’t as long as yours.” “sorry, sorry.” rafe slows his pace, glad his truck is within sight. he helps you into the passenger seat once you get there before throwing the bags into the back seat, rounding the hood with eyes on constant alert still, unable to relax yet.

“thanks for shopping with me.” you say as rafe climbs in, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, seeing his jaw unclench and shoulders drop a little.

rafe turns his head to give you a proper kiss as his hands fumble with the keys before starting the car, giving you another peck before turning towards the road, backing out of the spot and navigating the large truck through the parking lot.

“pull over here.” you point to an empty lot, in front of a store that closed down a while ago.

“why?” rafe questions, a slight hint of annoyance in his voice, wanting to get you home alone as soon as possible.

“just do it.” you hum, a teasing smile on your face as you unbuckle and then lean over, pushing the folded down center console out of the way as you rub your hand over the front of rafes pants the second the car is shifted into park.

“baby-” rafe groans, his head falling back against the headrest.

“wanna thank you for buying those clothes for me.” you say, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you undo his pants button before tugging the zipper down, pulling the two sides of his pants open to reveal his boxers.

you press your lips against the fabric of his underwear, feeling his cock thicken as you kiss along his length, the zipper pressing against your chin, but you ignore it in favor of pressing your tongue to wet the fabric even further.

“fuck, baby.” rafe groans, hands coming to his hips as he tugs his pants and underwear down, not caring that anyone could drive into the parking lot and see what is going on. his truck is tall enough with tinted windows that he isn't worried.

“mmm, so hard and big for me.” you coo, placing your hand on the base of his cock, giving it a few strokes as you watch in fascination as a big of precum leaks out of his tip.

you lean forward, tongue sneaking out as you lap over the head of his cock, tongue slithering over the slit.

rafes hand comes to the back of your head, pushing you down. you barely cover your teeth in time as your mouth opens, letting him push you down until your lips reach where your hand is wrapped around his length.

“good girl, that's it.” rafe purrs out, his voice deep and sultry as you suck, tongue rubbing along his cock as you begin to move your head, pulling off his cock slightly before pressing back down.

you moan around rafes length, loving how stretched your cheeks have to get, how deep down he reaches your throat as you bob your head, his hand still resting against your curls, providing a slight amount of pressure to encourage you to continue.

“wish those dicks in the store could see you. instead of staring at your ass they could stare at you sucking me.” rafes frustration is clear in his voice, and despite his dick in your mouth, you roll your eyes as you continue to move, knowing it's ridiculous that he cares so much when you only have eyes for rafe.

you pull off his dick with a plop, immediately beginning to stroke your hand. “no need to be jealous baby.”

“im not jealous.” rafe grunts as your thumb swipes over the head of his cock. “just annoyed that they think they can look at what's mine.”

you go to respond when rafe pushes your head back down, other hand coming to hold you as well as he begins to thrust his hips up, your hand having to come to his thigh to stabilize yourself as he fucks your mouth, his hips moving up and down off the seat to plunge deep down your throat.

you are used to taking him, but not in his position as you gag slightly, but the noises just spur rafe on as he moves faster.

“such a nice warm mouth for me baby.” rafe says, panting as his arms continue to work you up and down. “such a tight throat.”

you swallow around his cock at the praise, tightening the walls of your throat even further around his dick as rafes hips thrust up.

“so close.” he warns, breath quickening as his cock pushes in and out of your mouth quickly before he lifts up, shoving your head as far down as he can, nose nuzzling into his skin as he cums, releasing deep down your throat as he moans.

you swallow obediently as rafe slumps back down. you pull off slowly, pressing gentle kisses along his length as he softens before sitting up, patting at your chin to fix your ruined makeup as rafe tucks himself back into his pants.

“thank you for taking me shopping rafey, can't wait to try all the new clothes on.” you coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek before sliding back over to your seat, doing your seat belt as if nothing happened.

“can't wait to fuck you in your new clothes when we get home.” rafe says, clearing his throat as he shakes his head, trying to get back in the right mindset to drive home.

“mhm, after i try everything on though.” you clarify.

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lilacmingi · 2 months ago

Text

SECOND CHANCES

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. And please don’t spam-like!

Pairing: Best friend!Yunho x fem reader (feat. Mingi)

Word count: 13,600

Note: I’ve written yet another imagine that’s 10K+ words oopsie. This one is a best friends to lovers because 1. Yunho fits it SO well and 2. I’m a sucker for that trope 🤧

The savory scent of meat being seared over an open grill wafted in the air, making your mouth water, the sizzle of the pork like music to your ears.

"Make sure you get a good char on it, Yunho." San mentioned, leaning over the table a bit.

Said man, seated beside you, nodded and flipped the pieces of pork over the grated surface. "Got it."

Mingi had invited you and the other guys out for dinner, not giving much of an explanation as to why, but none of you were one to turn down an invite to go eat, so you all agreed to meet up at a Korean BBQ restaurant.

Seated next to Mingi was his girlfriend whom he had been with for a year and a half. She was really sweet and fit in with the friend group well. There was only one teensy problem—you had a massive crush on Mingi.

Seeing him shoulder-to-shoulder with her made your stomach twist, even now after a year and a half. It was devastating when he first announced that he had met someone. Of course, you put on a happy face and pretended to be excited, but on the inside you felt sick. Yunho, one of the boys that you were closest with in the friend group, knew how you felt about Mingi and comforted you when you needed it. It was hard on you at first, but eventually got easier. His girlfriend was introduced to the group and it was impossible to dislike her, especially since none of what was happening was her fault. No one knew you liked Mingi, except Yunho.

The only silver lining in the whole situation was the possibility of them breaking up someday. It was a horrible thing to think, especially since the two of them got along like two peas in a pod, but a small part of you hoped one day it would happen.

"Y/n, you wanna have first taste?" Yunho's voice pulled you from your daze, a piece of beautifully-grilled pork held in front of your face between a pair of tongs.

Blinking yourself back to the present, you put on a smile, ignoring San's whining and complaints about not getting to have first bite as you took the piece between your teeth.

"Mmm!" Your eyes brightened at the flavors and you nodded approvingly.

"Alright." Yunho beamed, his heart flipping at the expression on your face. "Pork is done. He announced, placing each piece onto a plate for serving.

You picked up your chopsticks and started taking portions from the bowls and plates of various dishes spread along the table. Leaning forward a bit, you attempted to reach for a bowl of your favorite dish, your chopsticks not quite reaching their intended destination.

"I'll get it for you." Yunho cut in, stretching his much longer arm across the table, grabbing a few bite-sized portions of it and placing it onto your plate.

"Is that enough or would you like more?"

"That's enough for now. Thank you." The eye smile you gave him in return made his chest fill with warmth, a shy grin making its way onto his face.

"Is there any kimchi over there?" Wooyoung asked, peering down the table.

"Right here." Yeosang responded, pointing with his chopstick.

"Can you pass it to me?"

"No."

"Please? I'll do aegyo for it."

At that, Yeosang grabbed the small bowl and immediately passed it down to Wooyoung, who seemed mildly offended at his friend's quick jump to action.

"Why'd you react that way?" He asked with a frown.

"I'm not putting anyone here through that."

The table erupted in scattered laughter and chuckles at the playful jab from Yeosang. Things were often like this with the boys; lots of goofing around and teasing one another. It was one of many reasons why you liked having them as your friends.

Throughout the meal, the group talked amongst themselves, reminiscing on memories of the last time you all got together as well as general talk of how delicious the food was. The plates had long been emptied and the afternoon was coming to a close when Mingi cleared his throat, standing from his chair. Everyone's attention was turned to him as he opened his mouth to speak.

"So there's a reason why I invited you all out tonight." He rubbed his palms anxiously over his upper thighs. "I wanted you all to be here for this."

You watched as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black velvet box, your eyes widening. Mingi then turned to his girlfriend and pushed his chair aside so he could get down on one knee.

"I know we've been dating for a year and a half now, and that might not seem very long for some people, but I've been thinking about this for a while and I can't stand the thought of not spending the rest of my life with you."

Suddenly, all the food you'd eaten felt like it was going to come back up, your stomach churning with an uneasy feeling that only got worse as the next words left his mouth.

"Will you marry me?"

Mingi's girlfriend had her hands over her mouth in shock, the typical reaction of a proposee. She nodded her head, muffled joyous giggled leaving her before she pulled her hands away and held Mingi's face, leaning in to kiss him.

You felt like you were gonna be sick.

As much as you tried not to watch, you couldn't tear your eyes away when Mingi plucked the glimmering ring from it's box and placed it onto her trembling hand.

That was the icing on the cake, the final punch to the gut.

Everyone clapped, cheering for the couple and it took everything in you to play along as an unsavory wave of emotions hit you, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn't jealousy. Well, maybe it was a little jealously, but for the most part it was guilt and longing. Guilt for never trying to spend more time with him or hint at how you felt.

Yunho seemed to take notice of your artificial reaction, knowing how you felt about Mingi. He frowned, leaning in a bit before whispering under the clamor of celebration, "Are you okay?"

You forced a tight smile while nodding, attempting to be blasé about the whole situation, but Yunho knew better.

His expression turned melancholy, eyes drooping with the corners of his mouth.

"Y/n, it's okay. I understand."

"I'm fine." You kept that same strained smile plastered on your face, a fallacious facade that seemed not to raise suspicions with anyone except Yunho.

Despite the chipper uptick in your tone, he knew you weren't well and that watching the proposal unfold had done a number on you emotionally, stirring up lingering feelings that hadn't gone away even after all these years.

He watched as everyone said their goodbyes and you gave Mingi and his new fiancé well wishes, his heart clenching at the sight. He knew it was killing you inside to be doing that. Lingering by the entrance of the restaurant, he stopped you on your way out.

"You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?"

He had always been a shoulder to cry on when you needed it and despite how much it hurt him to see you so attached to Mingi, he refused to leave you hanging.

You shook your head, declining his offer. "Thanks but I think I just wanna go home."

He nodded, pushing away the dull ache of disappointment. "I understand. Just let me know if you need anything—and I mean anything, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Yunho. You're a good friend."

He winced imperceptibly at the stinging words that felt like a slap to the face. But that's all he was to you, right? A friend.

"Of course. Anything for you."

Three years. You wasted three years secretly and silently crushing on Mingi, too afraid to speak your feelings. And half of that time, he was in a relationship. If only you could've been brave enough to say something. It's all you could think about on the drive home. Wasted time.

Speaking of wasted time, the remainder of the day was spent binging shows and YouTube videos—any media that would occupy your attention span and take your focus off the events of that evening. It worked... for a little while. Even a hot shower didn't do the trick. It just gave you a quiet space to ruminate on what had happened.

As you lied down in bed that night, you stared at the ceiling and memorized the shadows the moon casted on its textured surface, your brain too awake to get you to the point of rest.

"It's out of your control." You whispered under your breath, closing your eyes.

The words were repeated in your head as you focused on your breathing, willing yourself to forget about it for the night in favor of some needed sleep. Eventually, the mantra faded out and you slowly drifted off.

The next day you couldn't shake the heavy feeling in your chest. It was unpleasant and no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself from it or push it away, it always came back.

What you needed was to get out of the house, get some sunlight, maybe even indulge in a little retail therapy.

You somehow managed to get out of your slump long enough to get ready and head out, walking down the street with your headphones shoved into your ears, using music to drown out your thoughts.

A quaint thrift shop with cozy-looking stained glass lamps and porcelain vases in the window caught your attention, slowing you to a stop. Printed in a vintage font on a sign were the words, Utopia Antiques. You always did like thrift shops and secondhand items so you decided to check out the place and scope it out.

The bell hanging above the door jingled at your entry and an elderly man behind the counter lifted his gaze from an old brass pitcher in his hands that he appeared to have been examining. He pushed his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, acknowledging you with a smile.

"Hello, young lady."

"Hello." You greeted him.

"Is there anything in particular I can help you find today?"

"No. I'm just browsing."

"Well, there's lots to browse." He smiled warmly, vaguely gesturing to the shelves of knickknacks and tchotchkes. "Take your time."

Moving further into the shop, your wandering eyes perused the various items lined up. There were small carved wooden chests, old jewelry boxes, and vintage metal signs. As you headed towards the back of the shop, a particular item grabbed your attention, standing out amongst the others; a bronzy gold hourglass glinting under the fluorescent lights. You carefully brought the item down off the shelf, examining it briefly before lifting the little tag tied to it. The price written was a little steep, perhaps slightly more than you would've liked to pay for it, but there was something about the hourglass that drew you in. It was beautiful and the design of it was eye-catching. You carried it around the shop with you until you were ready to check out.

"Oh. Very interesting." The man marveled when you placed the hourglass onto the counter. "This just arrived a couple days ago. It was found on a old ship, y'know."

"Really?" You inquired.

"Mhm. I receive items from many places. Auctions, old homes, old mansions, and on occasion, ships. I also pawn."

"Was that brass pitcher I saw you with earlier one of those things?"

"As a matter of fact, it was. Someone brought that in just a few minutes before you came in."

"Everything here looks like it's taken care of." You gestured to the many shelves lined with knickknacks.

"Oh, yes. I clean and polish everything I receive and I only take things I deem to be valuable. No junk here." He chuckled gruffly, removing the paper tag tied to the framing of the hourglass.

Your eyes wandered around the shop's interior again before landing on the man, who was pressing buttons on the register. He adjusted his glasses and turned to you with a smile, giving you the total.

Once the transaction was complete, he wrapped some old newspaper around the hourglass to keep it cushioned before bagging it, dropping your receipt in with your purchase.

"Thank you so much." You put on a friendly grin, carefully taking the bag from him.

"Have a nice day, young lady."

"Thank you. You too." You gave the shop owner a small wave and made your way out the door.

You left the antique shop feeling a bit better and the brief but pleasant conversation you shared with the man running the small business was a nice distraction from your turbulent thoughts. And the hourglass you bought would make a nice addition to your desk space in your bedroom or even on a shelf. You'd have to decide later.

You weren't exactly ready to go home just yet, as you hadn't been out of the house for too long, so you stopped by a small cafe and bought yourself a beverage. Sometimes a little treat helped when you were feeling down and this one certainly did.

While walking around town, you sipped on your drink and stopped in a few local shops to peruse, but didn't find anything that was particularly interesting or worth purchasing.

The low noise of the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped past the threshold of your home, your new purchase clutched in your hand. Kicking the door shut, you headed into your bedroom, tugging off the plastic bag and removing the newspaper from around the hourglass. Your eyes scanned one of the bookshelves in your room, trying to figure out the right place for your new item.

Even after your retail therapy, you couldn't shake the feeling of regret that weighed heavily on your shoulders and in your chest, part of you feeling like there might've been a possibility that you'd be the one Mingi proposed to if you'd done things differently.

Your gaze moved down to the hourglass, your fingertips rubbing along the curved, brassy gold bars that surrounded the sand-filled glass bulbs like a protective cage of sorts. You absentmindedly traced the shape of it while wondering what it might've been like to be proposed to by Mingi. To be the one he couldn't bear to live the rest of his life without. A heavy exhale left you as your fingers came rest at the peak of the hourglass. Without thinking much of it, you turned it, watching as the granules of sand shifted inside with the gravity and began slipping through the narrow neck and into the bottom bulb.

It was a little early to go to bed, but you didn't feel like doing anything other than sleeping, so you set the hourglass in an empty space on your shelf and went through your nightly routine.

It was almost ridiculous how much this whole engagement thing had affected you.

You should've done more instead of being scared. You should've tried harder, maybe even confessed your feelings. You might've had a shot if you'd just done something besides silently admiring him.

Closing your eyes, you let out an exhale, forcing your muscles to relax. There was nothing that could be done. What happened happened and there's no redoing it. No second chances. You'd just have to get over it and move on.

As you drifted off to sleep, the last grains of sand slipped through the narrow neck of the hourglass and it began to glow.

A soft, drowsy murmur escaped your lips as you slowly returned to the waking world. Cracking open your bleary eyes, you were met with the sight of a different set of sheets—ones you used to have on your bed, but had since changed. With furrowed brows, you rubbed your eyes as they adjusted to the daylight and you looked around your room. The decor was different. Posters you'd replaced quite some time ago were hanging back up and knickknacks you'd either boxed up or sold were sitting on your shelf.

My room hasn't looked like this in nearly... two years.

You froze, fully awake and alert now. Scrambling for the cell phone on your nightstand, you looked at the date as the screen lit up.

"No." You murmured, opening up the calendar app to get a more precise time only to have your heart drop to your feet.

This had to be a dream, right? There was no way you were in the past. Your fingers came up to pinch yourself on the upper arm harshly but all you did was yelp when a sharp pain stung the area.

Your head was spinning, chest tight, hands trembling. You were two years in the past.

At this point, you were seated upright in bed, gripping handfuls of your hair in a stressed manner. How? How did this happen? Was it a wish? Some strange miracle? Something in your mind clicked into place and suddenly it made sense.

The hourglass. You turned it just before going to bed.

Your hand came up to clutch your chest, your erratic heart rate thumping against it, reminding you of just how shocking this all was to you.

Once again, you snagged your phone, checking the date again, realization dawning on you. It was exactly a month before San's birthday. As you recalled, San had a party at the bowling alley, which is where Mingi ended up meeting his fiancé.

Were you perhaps getting a do-over?

If that was the case, you had a month to spend more time with Mingi before he met his future fiancé. You could do things differently this time. You could win over Mingi.

Your phone pinged in your hand and you glanced down at it to find a text notification from Yunho. He and Mingi were going to grab coffee and he wanted to know if you'd like to tag along. This happened exactly as you remembered it, though last time you said no and opted to stay home. Since you originally declined the offer, you chose to say yes this time, sending a quick response to Yunho before getting ready.

You arrived at the coffee shop, riddled with both nerves and excitement. You were getting a second chance.

The warm and welcoming aroma of rich coffee greeted you when you stepped into the cafe. Yunho and Mingi were already there, seated at a table by one of the large windows at the front of the establishment. They both waved your over with bright smiles.

"Didn't expect you two to get here so quickly." You commented while reaching to pull a chair out, but before you could, Yunho had done it for you. "Ah. Thank you." You lowered yourself into the seat. "Anyway, I hope you two weren't waiting on me."

"We haven't been here long." Mingi said, taking a sip of his iced americano. "Maybe five minutes."

"Good."

"I went ahead and ordered for you, Y/n." Yunho spoke up, sliding a cup towards you. "This is your favorite, right?"

Your brows raised and a small smile pulled at your lips.

"No, she likes plain coffee." Mingi chimed in before you could utter a single word.

You reached out to pull the cup closer to you. "It is this one. Thanks, Yunho."

He returned your small smile as you took a sip, humming softly at the flavor.

"This hits the spot."

Your eyes lingered on Mingi, taking in his sharp facial features before moving down to check out the rings on his fingers. "I like your rings."

"Oh." He stretched his digits apart to show off the jewelry adorning them. "Thanks. This one here is new." He pointed to one on his right index finger, a chunky silver ring with a square black stone on it.

As he talked about his rings and where he bought them, you were completely locked in, hanging onto every word he said. Unbeknownst to you, Yunho was doing some staring of his own, his gentle eyes full of longing as he gazed upon you, watching the way your own eyes twinkled in interest as Mingi went on. You were so enamored and Yunho could only wish you'd look at him that way.

"I've got my eye on one with a skull on it. It looks pretty cool." Mingi finished.

"Oh." You nodded enthusiastically.

"That color looks really good on you, Y/n." Yunho spoke up, grabbing your attention.

You glanced down at the top you were wearing and smiled at his compliment.

"It brings out your eyes." He added.

"Oh. Thank you." You let a tiny giggle slip out, flattered by his sweet words.

The three of you chatted and sipped on your drinks, enjoying each other's company. You were a lot more talkative with Mingi and really put forth an effort to engage in conversation, even going as far as lightly touching his shoulder while laughing, hoping to drop a hint. You weren't that way with him before, but since you were getting a chance to change things, you were doing everything you possibly could to show interest.

"And then Wooyoung nearly got sick after the roller coaster." Yunho finished through laughter, recalling a memory from the year prior when you all took a group trip to the amusement park.

"Yeah, he vowed to never eat funnel cake again after that." You cackled, dabbing away the tears at the corners of your eyes, letting out a long exhale as the laughter slowly died down. "That was a good day."

"It was." Mingi nodded. "I remember you tried so hard to win that cat plushie from the ring toss. What did you end up naming it? Pickles?"

"It was a dog plushie named Puddles because you said his brown paws looked like he'd been running in mud puddles." Yunho recollected with a small smile.

"Yeah, that's it." You nodded, grinning widely.

"Ah, that's right. Though I could've sworn it was a cat." Mingi murmured, shrugging.

"Do you still have Puddles?" Yunho asked.

"I do."

During your time together, you noticed Mingi wasn't as engaged as Yunho was. He made a few comments, adding to the conversation here and there while Yunho did most of the talking, bringing up different topics and speaking with such enthusiasm.

"I can take everyone's empty cups." He offered after noticing everyone had finished their drinks.

"Thank you." You handed your trash over to Yunho, watching for a moment as he walked to the garbage can near the cafe entrance.

"This has been nice." You commented, turning to Mingi with a small smile. "It was a good way to start the day. And thanks for buying coffee."

"Oh. I didn't pay for it. I bought my own."

Your brows raised a bit just as Yunho returned to the table, reclaiming his seat.

"You bought my coffee?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Yeah."

"Thank you. You're always doing stuff like that."

It was true. He often bought things for you like a meal or something to drink, always offering to cover the cost of something when you two hung out.

He chuckled softly. "I just like to take care of my friends."

The brief time you spent with Yunho and Mingi at the coffee shop was enjoyable, but you hadn't made much progress on your plan to pursue your crush. Despite engaging in conversation with Mingi, you still felt like you could've done more.

Instead of worrying, you pushed aside your concerns and reminded yourself that you still had almost a full month to change things. You had time.

Just a few days later, Hongjoong texted the group chat and asked if everyone was free to get together later that evening and check out a new restaurant in town. You remembered when this first happened and it was a fun night, in fact, Seonghwa ended up drinking a little too much, but you were hardly able to speak to Mingi due to being seated father away from him. You'd be sure to change that this time around—and maybe you'd advise Seonghwa to watch his soju intake.

You stepped into the restaurant to find Jongho, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa seated on a bench in the entryway of the establishment, likely waiting on the others.

"Hey!" Jongho greeted enthusiastically.

"Hey guys." You moved to take a seat on the bench beside him.

"So, how long has this place been in business?" Jongho asked Hongjoong, looking around at the interior.

"About a month. I've seen really good reviews online. I hear the jjigae is good, lots of people were recommending it."

"Did someone say jjigae?" San's voice bellowed as he entered the waiting area.

A chorus of greetings rang out as he joined the group, falling into conversation easily.

After a relatively short wait, everyone had arrived and the group was brought to a large table. Trying not to make it obvious, you slid into the chair beside Mingi, ensuring that you'd get some time with him this time around. Yunho was quick to slip into the empty seat to the right of you, offering a tiny smile as he scooted his chair closer to the table.

"Something smells good." He mentioned, referring to the aroma food from nearby tables that lingered in the air.

"It does." You agreed, reaching for your menu to scan the list, deciding to order something different this time around.

"I'm definitely getting soju." Seonghwa announced. "Anyone wanna join?"

"Me." Jongho piped up.

"You might not wanna overdo it." You cautioned.

"I'll be fine." Seonghwa waved off your comment.

"Suit yourself." You murmured, turning your attention back to the menu, eyes scanning over the pictures and names on the laminated pages.

Yunho's gaze drifted to you while your attention was focused on deciding what to order.

"Your eye makeup looks really good today." He spoke up, voicing his inner thoughts aloud.

"Oh." You were surprised he noticed something like that. "Thank you."

"It's different than what you usually do."

"Yeah, it is. I wanted to try something new."

"Well, it looks really good."

His compliment gave your mood a little boost, making you feel giddy. It wasn't often a guy took notice of a change in makeup, though if anyone were to notice, Yunho definitely would.

Mingi caught wind of the conversation and turned to get a look at your eyeshadow.

"Let me see."

You moved your head and closed your eyes so he could check out your handiwork.

"Oh. It's nice." He hummed. "Very shimmery."

Mingi's compliment made you even more giddy than Yunho's did, your heart fluttering in your chest. Your smile grew as you thanked him, unable to hide how his words made you feel.

Your waitress for the evening came over and one-by-one, everyone placed their orders. Despite your warning, Seonghwa did ask for a couple bottles of soju. Maybe some things you couldn't change. He and Jongho clinked shot glass after shot glass, laughing and cutting up until the waitress returned with everyone's orders. Your mouth watered as she set down various dishes, the different savory scents mingling in the most wonderful way.

The conversations and chatter died down as everyone started stuffing their faces, preventing them from talking. The only vocalizations were hums of satisfaction.

"Let's take a picture." Wooyoung piped up after some time, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

You, along with some others that were in the middle of chewing, wiped your mouth, swallowing your food and turning to where Wooyoung stood with his device stuck out.

"Bring it in a little." He gestured to the group, so you'd all fit in the frame.

You immediately moved closer to Mingi, using it as an excuse to be near him. Yunho scooted his chair over a bit and leaned into you, catching you off guard. Brushing it off, you smiled as Wooyoung snapped a couple photos, instructing everyone to do a different pose. You readjusted your pose, doing a half heart and nudging Mingi who gladly completed the pose. Feeling something as simple as his fingers pressed against yours made your heart stutter in your chest. You flashed another smile and Wooyoing snapped a photo before sliding his phone back into his pocket, letting everyone get back to their food.

"Send that to me, Woo." San told his friend.

"Me too." Seonghwa piped up a little louder than he should have, his ears and cheeks red from the soju.

"I'll send it to the group chat." Wooyoung assured everyone while piling his plate with some of the side dishes spread across the table.

And you did receive those photos in the group chat later that evening when you returned home along with a few typo-filled text messages from Seonghwa telling Wooyoung how great the images turned out. You dropped down to sit on the edge of your bed, zooming in on you and Mingi in the snapshot, unable to stop yourself from admiring the way you two looked together, your mind wandering. In the photos sent, there were some taken when everyone was switching poses and that's when you noticed Yunho. His gaze was directed at you when you weren't paying attention, something about his eyes making you stare for a little too long at the screen. You had never seen Yunho look at you that way before and you couldn't pinpoint a word to describe it. You chalked it up to your over-analyzing mind and brushed away any observations for the time being.

You were seated on your bed, going through some of the things in your room that you hadn't seen in a couple years, reminiscing. It was still a strange concept, being there in the past and seeing all the things in your room that you'd long gotten rid of or sold.

Time traveling. It shouldn't have been possible and yet there you were, standing in your bedroom decorated just as it was two years prior, getting a chance to correct possibly the biggest mistake of your life.

Caught up in your thoughts, you almost didn't hear your phone chime to inform you of an incoming text message. Flipping the device over from its spot on your dresser, you saw a text from Yunho.

Yuyu

Mingi is coming over to hang out and play video games. You wanna come by?

That's right. Yunho and Mingi had a video game night and invited you to join, but you weren't feeling well last time and passed on the invite. That certainly wasn't going to happen this time around. Taking the phone, you typed up a response, letting Yunho know you'd be at his place shortly.

Yunho had everything set up by the time you arrived, pillows piled on his couch, a vast spread of snacks, and his game of choice loaded and ready to go.

"Wow." You applauded. "You pulled out all the stops for this hangout."

"When do I not?" He chuckled.

"Touché." You slipped your shoes off by the door and headed inside, dropping down onto the sofa.

"Go on. Make yourself comfortable." Yunho remarked in a teasing manner, making you laugh softly.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, taking in your appearance. "Are you wearing makeup?"

"A little."

"Ah." A knowing grin spread across Yunho's face. "You're wanting to look good for Mingi, is that it?"

A faint warmth tickled your cheeks.

"No." You denied.

Even if you were good at hiding your emotions, Yunho would be able to see right through you anyway. He knew you too well.

When Mingi arrived, you sat up a little straighter, subtly fixing your hair as he and Yunho greeted each other.

"Hey, Y/n." Mingi came into the living room, taking a seat beside you on the couch. "You gonna play video games with us?"

"I'm gonna observe for this game," You gestured towards the TV screen. "but I might join in when you guys decide to switch games."

"Well, let's not waste any more time." Yunho plopped onto the opposite end of the couch, grabbing a controller and starting the game.

You munched on some of the snacks Yunho had laid out on the coffee table, watching contently as your two friends moved their game characters across the screen, shooting at each other and collecting items along the way.

"Hey, hey, hey." Yunho laughed as Mingi's avatar rounded a corner where he was hiding.

Yunho narrowly escaped, only losing some of his HP in the process.

It was amusing to witness their playful banter and random outbursts during the few rounds they played. One of them would groan when they lost and the other would stand up to do a ridiculous victory dance that had you cackling.

The game was switched shortly after to one you were more willing to participate in—a classic racing game. A third controller was connected and the three of you started a round.

At some point, Mingi tried to sabotage you in the game, making you yelp out in surprise and struggle to regain your position in the race. In retaliation, you leaned over to bump his shoulder, hoping to throw him off.

"Cheater!" Mingi shouted, making you burst into a fit of joyful laughter.

"I'll give you something to laugh about." He knocked you harshly with his shoulder, a little grunt leaving you as your body jerked.

"Let's leave the sabotages in the game, huh?" Yunho spoke up lightheartedly, putting yours and Mingi's physical attacks to a halt.

After a few rounds of racing, the three of you started another multiplayer game, seated on the edge of the couch cushions in order to be closer to the TV screen to focus. You weren't sure how long you guys had gamed for, too engrossed in the moment to pay attention to the time.

"I think I'm gonna head home." Mingi announced, setting down his controller and stretching his long arms.

"You sure?" Yunho asked.

"Yeah, it's only 11 PM." You mentioned.

"I know, but I'm getting tired." He spoke through a yawn.

"Weak." You teased.

"Hey." Mingi chuckled. "Am not."

"Sleep is for the weak, my friend."

"At least I get sleep, unlike you." He poked your side, making you flinch away and laugh.

"He got you with that one, Y/n." Yunho chuckled, knowing how poor your sleeping habits were.

"Whose side are you on?" You asked, placing a hand over your chest in mock hurt.

He merely laughed while Mingi got to his feet, twisting to stretch out his tight back muscles.

"Alright. I'm heading out." He announced, fishing his keys from his pocket. "I'll see you guys around."

"See ya." You and Yunho waved as Mingi let himself out.

The room grew quiet after Mingi's exit, your foot tapping softly on the floor.

"You can stay longer if you'd like." Yunho extended the invite. "I'm not tired, so you don't have to worry about keeping me up or anything."

A smile pulled at your lips. "Neither am I."

"You wanna watch me play Valorant?"

"Sure."

Yunho had always been a huge fan of the game and played it often, sometimes with Jongho, who was also into the franchise. His fingers pressed around on the controls, picking up where he left off on his last game.

You readjusted your position on the couch, watching Yunho move around on the screen, scanning the area for any enemies.

"Anyone playing with you tonight?" You asked him.

"No, just bots. Jongho isn't online right now, which I'm kinda relieved about. I messed up last time and our team lost. I didn't hear the end of it for three days." He sighed, shaking his head.

You chuckled. "Yeah Jongho takes his gaming seriously."

"A little too seriously if you ask me. He wouldn't stop mentioning how I totally screwed our team over."

You chuckled softly, easily imagining Jongho teasing Yunho for days on end.

"Would you like to try?"

The offer was made after Yunho had played a round on his own.

"Oh. I'm not very coordinated with these kinds of games."

"You won't get better if you don't practice." He held the controller out, giving it a little flourish as if to tempt you.

"Alright, fine." You caved.

The Xbox controller was handed over and you held it, placing your thumbs on the joysticks.

"Okay so which button do I press to aim and shoot?" You questioned, wanting to get familiar with the controls.

"Left to aim, right to shoot."

"Got it." You positioned your index fingers over the trigger buttons.

"A is jump and B is crouch."

"Of course." You nodded, familiar with that setup already.

Using the joysticks, you moved Yunho's character forward, panning the area while he explained to you what the objective of the game was.

"There, there, there!" He pointed frantically at the TV screen. "That's one of your enemies."

"Okay. Okay." You squeezed the left trigger button and aimed before shooting only to miss. "Crap!" You hissed out in mild frustration.

Your thumbs moved to maneuver the character to a shielded area.

"I don't know what I'm doing." You huffed.

"Here. Let me help." Yunho readjusted himself, his long arms wrapping around your frame while his large hands came to rest over yours on the controller.

Your body stiffened imperceptibly at the sensation of his chest being pressed against your back and his arms caged around you. It felt oddly intimate and had your head spinning.

"You have to be quick about it." He spoke lowly due to his face being so close to your ear, which only made things worse.

You cleared your throat and nodded.

Yunho placed his thumbs on yours, making them push on the joysticks, guiding the character on the screen back out in the open.

"Aim." He pressed the left bumper, moving the joystick to center the target. "And shoot." He pressed the right bumper and the enemy fell to the ground. "See? Easy."

"Yeah. Easy." You blinked, swallowing thickly, trying to make sense of the emotions you felt.

It took you a couple days to get over the way being so close to Yunho made you feel. He had never done anything like that before nor had he ever done anything to warrant such a reaction from you. It was strange and different, but you managed to push past it.

It was finally time. A pivotal moment in this whole plan to change your past—the big weekend trip to Jeju Island. The whole thing was Jongho's idea as an early birthday present for San. The trip took place from July 6 to July 8, ending just a couple days before San's birthday. As you recalled from the first time, the youngest wouldn't stop bragging about how much better his gift was than everyone else's, claiming a trip was so much better than something like jewelry.

The group was split into two SUVs, four in one and five in the other. Your road trip buddies for the next few hours were Yunho, Mingi, Yeosang, and Seonghwa. Your excitement was barely contained as you were squeezed in beside Mingi in the backseat. He had shifted over when you got into the car, seated in the middle with you on the right and Yeosang on the left.

"I can't wait until we get there. Jongho showed me photos. The place looks awesome." Seonghwa spoke from the passenger seat.

"I can't believe he rented a house for the weekend. That makes my video game gift sound so lame." Yunho murmured, keeping his eyes on the road while he drove.

"He'll love it." You mentioned. "Trust me."

Mingi made himself busy, hooking his phone up to the Bluetooth in the car, dubbing himself the road trip DJ.

The five of you bobbed your heads, even singing along to some of the songs at the top of your lungs. A couple hours into the four hour road trip, you yawned, rubbing at your face to wake up.

"You tired?" Mingi asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"Here." He patted his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" You tried not to let your excitement show at his offer.

"Sure."

You leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder, mentally trying to convince your racing heart to calm down. This opportunity wasn't presented to you last time due to you being in Hongjoong's car with Jongho, San, and Wooyoung. Wooyoung and Jongho ended up snapping photos of you when you'd fallen asleep, leaving you to wake up to mischievous giggling.

Resting against Mingi's shoulder was nice and made you feel relaxed once you'd gotten used to it. It was much better than when you were with Wooyoung and Jongho the last time. You dozed off quickly, unaware of Yunho's gaze looking at the both of you in the rear view mirror.

The vacation home Jongho booked was a cozy four bedroom three bathroom accommodation. The only issue with four bedrooms was the fact that there were nine of you. Last time, you insisted on sleeping on the couch, which no one was okay with, but you convinced them to let you take one for the team. It was stiff and uncomfortable, so this time you weren't going to offer up yourself for taking the pullout couch and see what happened.

Everyone started checking out the place and calling dibs on different bedrooms, which is where the issue of rooming came about.

"I'd feel bad if Y/n slept on the couch." Seonghwa frowned.

"Me too." Yeosang agreed.

"Why don't we just do a random pairing? All the rooms are the same anyway." You offered up a fair compromise.

They all agreed and suggested a game to play to pair everyone up. Your heart was racing the entire time, silently hoping things would work out in your favor and you could room with Mingi.

As the game progressed and pairs started getting made, it seemed luck was on your side. That is until Mingi got paired with Jongho. You pushed aside your disappointment, knowing you'd have the weekend to spend some time with him.

"Okay. Yunho and Y/n. You two will room together. That leaves Yeosang for the couch." Hongjoong said.

Yunho. That wasn't so bad. He was the one you were closest with, so you weren't uncomfortable with that outcome.

"Alright. Yeosang gets the couch." Wooyoung grabbed his shoulders, giving them a squeeze.

Yeosang pouted and you almost caved, nearly offering to take the couch and repeat history, but you had to stay strong. Thankfully, Yeosang had no complaints.

Everyone started to get settled in, taking their duffel bags to their designated rooms, or in Yeosang's case, designated space.

You stepped into the room you and Yunho would be sharing, taking note of the king size bed. At least there'd be enough space for both of you, not that it would be a bad thing if there wasn't. Again, you were pretty close with Yunho and felt the most comfortable with him, so sharing a bed would be fine.

"We need some groceries for the weekend." Wooyoung mentioned while wandering the kitchen.

"Ramen is a must." Seonghwa piped up.

"And meat." Added San.

"Alright, so who's going?" Jongho asked.

"I vote Hongjoong." Wooyoung pointed to the second oldest who had made himself comfortable sprawled out on the living room floor with his eyes closed.

"No." He spoke from his spot on the hardwood.

"Two people should go." Mentioned Yunho.

"Well, there's only one way to settle this." Mingi held his fist up as a signal for them to start playing Rock Paper Scissors.

Since he was the one who suggested it, Mingi started the game and everyone put up a different hand sign, Hongjoong chose to participate right where he was.

Little by little, people started getting eliminated, clapping and celebrating when they found out they didn't have to go grocery shopping.

It was down to three people: you, Mingi, and Wooyoung. The last round was played. You and Mingi pulled paper and Wooyoung scissors.

"Yes!" He exclaimed, throwing his fists into the air in celebration. "Y/n and Mingi have to go grocery shopping."

Your eyes locked with Mingi's and you couldn't help but grin.

"I guess we should start making a list, huh?" He chuckled softly, pulling out his phone.

"Mingi, if you don't wanna go, I can do it." Yunho offered.

"I'm good. Y/n and I got this. Right?" He turned to you, holding out his fist.

"Yeah." You nodded, giving him a fist bump.

The boys started calling out different things and Mingi added each one to a list on his phone.

"Guys, we're only gonna be here for three days and I'm sure there are some nice local restaurants. Let's try not to buy too much." Seonghwa mentioned. "We just need a few things for when we want snacks or want to cook here."

The list was finally sorted out and you and Mingi left, headed to a nearby grocery store in the village you were staying in.

"The weather is so nice." You commented, enjoying the warmth of the midday sun and the light breeze that helped keep you cool.

"It is." Mingi agreed, pushing his hair back, that little action alone making your heart flutter.

You both made your way through small pathways that winded through the quaint village, running across a couple stray cats and a dog, stopping to pet them for a moment.

"Is this the place?" You asked Mingi, who was looking at his phone, using Naver Map to navigate.

"Should be." He lifted his gaze to look at the shop you were pouting to. "The map says we're here."

With that, the both of you headed inside and started shopping, grabbing a cart.

"Shin Ramen." You murmured, scanning the aisle of instant noodles. "Ah." You reached for a pack and tossed it into the cart Mingi was pushing.

"You should get two." He mentioned.

"Right. Seonghwa is there." You chuckled, referring to his big appetite, grabbing a second pack.

Rounding the corner, you headed down to the meat department and scanned the trays that were lined up.

"Everyone wants pork belly. Jongho said there's a grill outside." Mingi mentioned, grabbing a few packs. "Wow these look good."

"They sure do." You rubbed your hands together. "We should go get the alcohol next."

The group wanted to have a barbecue sometime during the weekend, so alcohol was a must. Half the group wanted beer and the other half soju, so you and Mingi stocked up. And, of course, since you were staying in Jeju, you bought some oranges.

Your arms were laden with plastic grocery bags when you and Mingi left the store. Mingi offered to carry the alcohol and drinks while you got the lighter stuff like ramen, meat, and other snacks. Getting back to the rental home was easy and once you returned, everyone perked up, excited to have some food.

Yunho was quick to jump up and help you out with the bags. "Here. Let me get those."

"Thanks." You smiled softly at his gesture.

The rest of the day was spent down at the beach, which was nearby. A couple towels were laid across the sand where everyone sat and enjoyed the fresh oranges that were purchased earlier. The citrusy flavor burst in your mouth like an explosion of fireworks as you gazed out at the ocean, your focus shifting to a screaming Wooyoung running along the shore away from Hongjoong, who was chasing him down. The sight made you laugh, watching in amusement, unaware that Yunho had pulled his phone out and was discreetly snapping candid photos of you. It might've been weird, but Yunho thought you looked so gorgeous and natural sitting near him, watching his friends chase each other. He was looking forward to spending some time with you this weekend.

Nighttime settled over the island of Jeju and a delicious meal was shared at the rental home. While grocery shopping, you and Mingi picked up a few bags of frozen dumplings and some tteokbokki, so that's what you had. While eating, plans were made on where to eat the following day as Yeosang and San scoped out local restaurants on Naver, checking out menus and whatnot. Cleanup duty was given to Jongho and Seonghwa after a lost game of Rock Paper Scissors, but of course everyone pitched in to help a little.

You stood in Yunho's room, donning your pajamas, all washed up and ready for bed. It had been a fun first day despite you having already lived it.

"Come on." Yunho patted the empty spot beside him. "You afraid to share a bed with your best friend?" He teased.

The question made your heart jump as the image of Yunho helping you play Valorant not too long ago flashed in your mind.

"No." You scoffed with a chuckle, crawling into the king size bed, making sure to leave a respectable gap between you and Yunho.

He offered the whole bed to you earlier when you were working out sleeping arrangements, but you insisted on just sharing the bed since it was so big. Besides, you didn't exactly want Yunho to sleep on the floor.

Snuggling into the pillow, you tugged the covers up a little higher and settled in.

"G'night, Yunho."

"Night, Y/n."

You dozed off quickly, all that walking and hanging out on the beach had worn you out.

You rolled over during the night, freezing when you heard steady breathing a little too close to you. In the dim moonlight shining into the room, you could see Yunho's face mere inches away, barely making out the shape of his nose and lips. It made your heart jump and you rolled back over, choosing to stay as you were.

You brought a hand up to your chest, feeling your thudding pulse beneath it. Why did that make you react in such a way? You didn't have any issues sharing a bed with Yunho, so why was your heart racing a million miles an hour? It was the same feeling you got when you played Valorant with him.

Sighing, you shook away the thoughts before you could spiral into an endless string of questions and internal analyzations. You were on a fun weekend trip with your friends, getting a second chance to change the future. You need not waste it.

The following day was spent checking out a local cafe for a light breakfast of coffee and baked goods, then you all did some sightseeing at a hiking trail, snapping photos and enjoying the warm weather. You walked close to Mingi nearly the whole time, chatting with him. You heart rate skyrocketed when he caught you after you misstepped and your ankle gave out. In addition to Mingi, Yunho also stepped in to help steady you, his eyes wide with worry.

"You okay?" Mingi and Yunho asked at the same time, their sentences overlapping.

"Yeah." You nodded. "I'm fine."

You rotated your ankle a bit, stretching it out before moving forward. Unbeknownst to you, Yunho started to walk closer, making sure you didn't misstep again or trip over anything.

That night, you guys went out for dinner at the restaurant the group decided on the previous night. They served classic Korean dishes that healed you from the inside out. Then back at the rental home, the nine of you played some card games which were provided by the accommodation.

The last day of the weekend trip arrived much quicker than anyone anticipated, but you all had two days full of fun and later that night was the scheduled barbecue, which would no doubt be fun—it was the first time.

Since it was the last day, you all took to the beach, walking in the waves and actually swimming this time.

Yunho's eyes followed your form as you headed into the water, laughing jubilantly when a wave splashed against your knees. The swimsuit you wore was so very you and the color complemented you so well. He couldn't tear his eyes away, standing at the edge of the shore where the waves laved the sand. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it while thinking back on the night you came over to play video games and how his stomach flipped when he was teaching you how to play Valorant. How your hands felt under his. Wooyoung came up and splashed you with water, making you squeal, which pulled Yunho from his thoughts. He chuckled softly to himself.

"Get back here!" You shouted at him, struggling to run through knee-high waves while splashing water towards the culprit.

He decided to join, assisting you in getting revenge on Wooyoung.

As the sun set over Jeju, preparations for the barbecue were being made. Jongho and Yunho were on grilling duty while you, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung were making ramen inside in the kitchen. San was known to be a pro at grilling, but he was the birthday boy and no one permitted him to help out. Yeosang kept him company on the couch, both of them playing a game together on their phones. Mingi and Hongjoong worked to set out chairs and a fold-out table in the backyard.

An entire family-sized five pack of Shin ramen was emptied into a pot of boiling water, the seasonings and dried ingredients being added in shortly after.

There were some leftover frozen dumplings so Wooyoung got to work pan frying them, wanting to use up the groceries that were purchased. At some point, Yunho stepped inside with a piece of pork belly between a set of tongs to feed San.

"Mmm!" He hummed.

"What about me? I'm working so hard in here." Wooyoung complained.

"You're not the birthday boy." Yunho said, sticking his tongue out before retreating outside.

It wasn't long before everything was done. The giant pot of ramen was set on a towel on the table outside, a couple plates of dumplings, and freshly-grilled pork belly lined the table. Jongho and Wooyoung came out of the house with armfuls of beer and soju, distributing them to everyone.

"Let's make a toast to San." Hongjoong held his can of beer up.

The birthday boy appeared flustered, smiling shyly. Everyone raised their drinks and did a collective cheers before taking a sip, or in Jongho and Yunho's cases, giant gulps.

"Geez." You laughed at Yunho, who was seated to your left.

"Ahh." He sighed out. "It's been too long."

Unfortunately, you weren't able to sit beside Mingi, but he was across from you, which was the next best thing.

"Everyone dig in." Seonghwa urged.

The meal was delicious, just as you remembered, but something about this particular time just felt better.

Jongho boldly insisted on playing a drinking game, to which everyone agreed to right away.

The night ended with a flushed San and Seonghwa singing loudly at the top of their lungs, swaying in their seats. Yunho was quick to join while Hongjoong opted to rest his head on the table. It was even funnier witnessing all this a second time, though things had gone a little differently than you remembered. It seemed like the choices you made thus far were already changing things.

The bowling alley had a decent crowd, exactly as you remembered it. The guys bought a big party package for the group which came with a few hours of bowling, one meal, and one round of soft drinks.

"I'm kicking all your butts." Jongho vowed, chewing a large bite of pizza, pointing at everyone.

"We'll see about that." San stretched his arms.

The game began shortly and since San was the birthday boy, he went first, successfully scoring a spare. You watched in amusement as everyone took their turn, some getting embarrassed about starting the round off with a gutter ball.

Jongho's declaration proved to be accurate, as he was the one currently in the lead after a few turns.

Mingi went up to bowl next, rearing back only to fumble and drop the ball. Your body stiffened as you watched the blue and white marbled ball roll along the glossy floors. This was when Mingi met the girl he proposed to. She stopped his ball when it rolled a couple lanes over. Jumping to your feet, you rushed to intercept the escaping sphere with your foot, successfully halting it. You spared a glance over your shoulder and saw her standing with two people a couple lanes over. You hid the triumphant smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

"Thanks, Y/n." Mingi flashed you a sideways grin and picked up his ball.

"Make sure you've got a tight hold on it next time, butter fingers."

"Hey!" He laughed.

"Just saying." You held back a chuckle, walking back to your seat beside Yunho on one of the cushioned booth seats.

Your shoulders brushed with his and you quietly apologized, something almost bashful in your tone. Since the Jeju trip, something was starting to become clear to you, or at the very least making itself known. You were developing a liking to Yunho that almost went past the title of friend.

You were quick to get pulled back into the game, laughing at some of the trash talk being shouted back and forth between the guys, cutting up with Yunho a bit and momentarily forgetting about your big mission. You hardly even noticed when Mingi stepped away to get a drink, that is until you caught a glimpse of him by a soda machine... talking to her.

That didn't happen last time.

Your heart sank to your feet. You tried to change things and he still ended up meeting her.

There was a bitter taste in your mouth and the rest of the evening proved to be difficult to get through, nausea twisting your gut every time you thought about Mingi or even looked at him.

"You okay?" The always-perceptive Yunho asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder that momentarily eased some of the tightness in your chest.

"Huh? Oh. I'm fine. I must've eaten that pizza too fast." You lied.

"You don't feel well?"

You shook your head.

"Do you need to go home?"

"I'm alright." You put on a smile, not wanting to ruin San's birthday party.

Yunho decided to let it go for the time being.

Later that night after you showered and changed into some cozy pajamas, you dropped down on the couch, hugging one of the pillows to your aching chest. The image of Mingi smiling and laughing with her flashed in your mind on loop.

You failed.

A lump formed in your throat as the crushing weight of defeat bared down on you. You were forcing yourself to keep the tears in, not wanting to cry over something so trivial. On the other hand, you got a second chance from some sort of magical hourglass from an antique store that was letting you try again. And you failed. How could you not be upset?

Just as you were about to give in and let the tears spill, your phone buzzed. You flipped the device over and saw Yunho's contact photo on the screen, a FaceTime call. Yet another thing that didn't happen last time.

You groaned, hoping you didn't look like you were close to tears, answering the call but keeping only the top of your head visible. Yunho was on his bed, his phone propped on his nightstand while he hugged a pillow, watching the camera, his face lighting up when you answered.

"Hey." He paused, his brows furrowed. "Why are you hiding?"

You couldn't think up a believable lie so you lowered the phone to where you were in frame, grateful to see that you looked just fine.

"Sorry." You murmured.

"I was just calling to check up on you. You didn't seem alright earlier at the bowling alley."

"I'm fine."

"Y/n, it's just you and me. You don't have to lie."

You sighed stubbornly, closing your eyes for a moment.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"No. I saw Mingi talking to this girl by the drink machines earlier."

"So?"

"He likes her."

"How do you know?"

"I just do." You huffed, knowing you couldn't tell him the truth.

He took his phone from where it was propped, his face moving closer to the camera. "Do I need to come over?"

"No. I'll be alright."

You appreciated his concern, you really did, but you didn't want him to go out of his way to comfort you.

"Too late. I'm coming over. DoorDash is gonna be on its way soon."

You chuckled, knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer. If he wanted to do something, he'd do it. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Yunho arrived a short fifteen minutes later, pulling you into a hug as soon as you answered the door. Every muscle in your body relaxed instantaneously and your eyes closed while you allowed yourself to enjoy his embrace, finding that you liked being in his arms.

"I hope you're not feeling sick anymore, because I ordered your favorite delivery food." Yunho said, pulling away.

"I'm not. I'm actually feeling a little better." You nodded, smiling softly.

The food arrived shortly and Yunho took it upon himself to answer the door, insisting that you stay right where you were on the couch. He brought the bag to the living room, setting it on the coffee table and opening it up.

"This one's for you." He handed your food over.

You thanked him and took a bite, grateful that it didn't taste unpleasant or make you want to throw up. That was good news and meant your uneasy stomach had settled a bit.

"Maybe it won't go anywhere." Yunho spoke up, trying to ease your troubled mind.

"What?"

"Mingi and this girl you saw him talking to. Maybe he was just having a friendly conversation with her."

"No." You shook your head. "Trust me. They're gonna start dating."

"You sound so sure."

"That's because I am."

His brows knit together, his skepticism and puzzlement showing through his expression. You were grateful he didn't press any further and instead changed the topic to something lighter. It helped keep your mind occupied long enough to finish your food.

"Oh. I didn't even think about drinks. Would you like something?" You offered.

"Just a soda will be fine."

You went to get a couple cans and brought them back into the living room, sitting back down on the couch. You cracked open your drink and took a sip, setting it on the coffee table. Yunho followed suit, settling back against the cushions of the sofa.

"Thanks for coming over." Your lips twitched into a faint smile. "You didn't have to, but I appreciate it."

"I know I didn't. I just couldn't stand seeing you upset and wanted to check in."

"I just," You hesitated, wondering if you should even tell him. "I've been trying to spend more time around Mingi in hopes that he might end up developing feelings for me. It's obvious that didn't work."

"Y/n." Yunho frowned. "You can't make someone like you."

"Clearly not." You sighed. "I thought if I hung out with him more often then maybe he'd develop feelings for me."

Tears blurred your sight, which you were quick to blink away before any could fall. Yunho frowned, not missing the glossiness in your eyes.

"Sorry." You huffed out, frustrated that you let your emotions slip in front of him.

"No." He shook his head. "It's fine. You're upset."

You expelled a faint sight, nodding. Your eyes met Yunho's and you felt something stirring in your gut. A feeling you couldn't pinpoint. "Thanks for coming over."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

It was weird. His behavior was making you feel funny, but not in a bad way. In fact, it was pleasant. Did you like him or were you projecting your feelings for Mingi onto Yunho? Or maybe you were feeling vulnerable and the attention was confusing your emotions. You didn't know and it hurt your brain to think about.

Too caught up in your own head, you didn't realize Yunho was closer to you. When did that happen? His hands were shaking and he hoped you didn't notice, his breathing quick and shallow as his gaze stayed locked on yours. There was something he wanted so badly to do and was having an internal battle with himself on wether or not he should do it.

Now would be the perfect time.

He imperceptibly started inching closer without having made up his mind, but didn't get far when you perked up, sitting straighter.

"I've got it." You gasped. "I'll invite him out tomorrow and take him somewhere with a romantic atmosphere, but not too obvious."

"Oh." Yunho deflated a bit. "That's... great."

He didn't stay much longer after that, using the excuse that he was tired. Naturally, you didn't think anything of it, your mind focused on executing your final plan; a last-ditch effort to pull a confession out of Mingi.

You reached out to Mingi the following day and invited him to a local botanical garden to hang out. There was no time to waste. You had to make a move. He agreed, which was already a step towards you getting the ending you hoped for.

Just two days after San's birthday party, you were walking past butterfly bushes, colorful hydrangeas, and other eye-catching blossoms with Mingi, an iced coffee in your hand that was sweating under the summer sun. You sipped your drink quietly, watching the water lilies floating in one of the few small ponds littered about the garden.

"This is nice." Mingi hummed, pushing his sunglasses up his nose.

"Yeah. It is." You put on a small smile. "Thanks for agreeing to hang out."

"Of course." His silver rings glinted in the sunlight as he raised his plastic cup, taking another sip of coffee.

You'd been walking for a while and were only having surface-level conversations with him. It was making you antsy. No one was around. All the other people walking the garden weren't anywhere near you.

"Wanna sit down over there?" You asked, gesturing to a shaded gazebo surrounded by floral bushes.

Mingi nodded and mentioned something about needing a little rest. You sat down beside him, butterflies fluttering around the area, birds chirping in the trees. The atmosphere was perfect, but he hadn't said anything. You took in a breath, preparing to just spill your guts to him. If he wouldn't confess, then you would.

Before you could utter a word, he spoke.

"We've spent a lot of time together lately."

"Yeah. We have."

"I've had fun." His tone was genuine. "It's been nice getting out so much."

"Yeah it has. Maybe we can spend more time together." It wasn't a question, but a suggestion.

"I'd like that a lot. I wanna hang out with my friends as much as possible."

Friends.

Your feelings weren't reciprocated.

He sipped his coffee casually, as if he didn't just break your heart into a million pieces.

Wait. You blinked, puzzled. There wasn't a painful ache in your chest or a crushing feeling of defeat weighing on you. Why?

"You okay?" Mingi asked, noticing you got quiet.

You blinked again, staring off in the distance.

"Yeah. I'm perfectly fine, actually."

Was this closure?

That night, you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling of your bedroom, not knowing what would happen the following day. One thing you did know was that you weren't upset over Mingi essentially friend-zoning you. You didn't feel like the world was going to end nor did you want to cry. Closing your eyes, you found yourself relaxing, looking forward to what the next day might hold.

The sun hit your eyelids, disturbing your deep and peaceful slumber. A groan rumbled in the back of your dry throat as you rolled over, lifting your head sluggishly from your pillow. Your droopy eyes shot open when you noticed your bedroom's appearance and decor. It was current. You were back in the present.

As happy as you were to have returned to where you belonged, your mind wandered back to the fact that Mingi only saw you as a friend. Being aware of this, you started analyzing your interactions with him, picking up on all the times when he never really acted like he was into you romantically. Why didn't you see it? You were chasing after a dead end.

Mingi would've done certain things if he liked you. He would've remembered something simple, like your coffee order. He would've checked up on you if you were upset or invited you to hang out. If Mingi really liked you as more than a friend, he would've acted like it. In fact, he would've acted like—

You paused, your body going stiff as something clicked, like two live wires connecting and causing a spark.

Yunho. He would've acted like Yunho.

Like a tsunami, flashes of your interactions with Yunho flickered through you head like a slideshow. He remembered the name of a plushie you won years ago, he knew your coffee order and paid for it, he noticed when you did your makeup differently, he checked up on you, he ordered your favorite delivery food, he was always perceptive of your behaviors and moods. Little things he had done recently and in the past were coming to light and you were only just now realizing. Yunho liked you.

Your heart beat faster and faster as more details stood out to you. It made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, a giddiness making your stomach flip with excitement.

The blood suddenly drained from your face as something came to the forefront of your mind. Yunho liked you and you gushed about Mingi in front of him so many times, not knowing how he felt. That night he came over after San's birthday party, you cried over Mingi. You groaned into your pillow, feeling so foolish.

"Stupid." You muttered. "You're such an idiot."

Your phone chimed, prompting you to raise your head and reach for the device.

Yuyu

I know it's last-minute, but do you want me to pick you up?

We can go together if you want

His text confused you until you checked the calendar, surprised to find that it was the same day Mingi proposed to his girlfriend. Yunho didn't offer to drive you last time, which meant the choices you made in the past had effected the present. You then looked to the shelf where you'd stored the mysterious hourglass, finding that section to be completely bare. That's right. Technically, you hadn't bought it yet.

Pulling your focus back to your phone, you sent out a response, accepting Yunho's offer.

You straightened out your shirt, tucking it in and frowning when it didn't look right. You untucked it, not liking how that looked either. Finally, after some adjusting, you got your top fixed the way you wanted it. Just as you finished getting ready, your phone chimed with a text from Yunho letting you know he was at your place and waiting outside.

Getting into Yunho's car, there was a noticeable change in your emotions. You no longer felt the same comfort that you did prior. Instead, you were a little nervous. As if realizing your feelings for Yunho changed the way you interacted with him.

"Hey." You greeted almost shyly, buckling up.

"Hey." His eyes took in your outfit. "You look nice."

"Thanks." You glanced down at the outfit you spent far too long choosing, subconsciously thinking of looking nice for him.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet and you kept stealing fleeting peeks over at Yunho, silently admiring his side profile, from his pretty nose to his delicate pink lips.

When you got to the restaurant, you and Yunho sat in the same spots you did the last time. The rest of the group arrived, including Mingi and his girlfriend, and for the first time, seeing them together didn't make your stomach twist into knots.

Everyone placed their orders and things were going smoothly. Like last time, Yunho was the designated griller, flipping chunks of pork belly along the grated surface of the small grill at the table.

"First bite?" He asked you, holding out a piece with the tongs.

Your heart fluttered at his offer and you nodded, taking a bite. As you chewed, you realized he did that last time and wondered if it was because of his feelings for you. It was little things like that that slipped you completely, going unnoticed, but now that you'd figured it all out, you were more aware.

Yunho finished grilling the meat and everyone started to fix their plates. You did the same, but just like last time, you couldn't reach everything spread out across the table.

"Here." Yunho cut in. "Just let me know what you want and I'll get it for you."

The first time he offered, you just thought it was simply a polite gesture, but now it felt like more, filling you with the giddiness of a lovestruck teenager.

There was the usual teasing and chatter as everyone ate and even though you knew what was coming, you weren't worried. Only when the group was finishing up their meals did Mingi get to his feet. This was the big moment.

He went through pretty much the same speech as the previous time you experienced the whole proposal, except this time, you were smiling, watching with genuine happiness for the couple. Everyone applauded when Mingi slipped the ring on his now fiancé's finger.

As Yunho drove you home after an enjoyable meal, you asked if he could stop by the antique shop under the guise that you had been wanting to check it out. He agreed, celebrating inwardly about getting to spend a little extra time with you.

The old man from last time was at the front counter examining the same brass pitcher. You regarded him with a nod and headed down the aisles, your eyes scanning the shelves until you spotted the hourglass. It was there. Seeing it under the lights in the shop, shining like a beacon made everything you experienced real—not that you ever questioned it.

"Did you want something?" Yunho asked from where he stood at the end of the shelves.

"No." You responded, gazing wistfully at the hourglass before tearing your eyes away. "I just wanted to look around."

With that, you walked away and exited the shop, leaving the hourglass for another troubled person to find, hoping it brought them as much closure as it did you.

The drive back to your home was mostly quiet. You spent a good chunk of the short trip staring at Yunho again, your wandering gaze landing on his hands, watching the way he effortlessly drove with only one. It's as if recognizing your feelings for him suddenly made everything about him stand out and become attractive.

The vehicle came to a rolling stop in front of your home and Yunho shifted the gear into park. There was a part of you that didn't wanna leave yet. You had something you wanted to talk to him about and it had been in the back of your mind since you woke up that morning.

"I hope you're alright." Yunho mentioned, breaking the silence that hung in the air between you. "I know you liked Mingi a lot, even if you haven't talked much to him over the last couple years. You kinda distanced yourself a little after your hangout with him."

You had no recollection of what happened between that day and the present. All you knew was the past you actually lived through, which made you wonder if anything else changed. Things went almost the same way today as it did the last time you experienced it, so maybe not much had changed. It was interesting, however, to find out that you distanced yourself after Mingi essentially turned you down without knowing it. You could definitely see yourself doing that, especially after getting the closure you needed.

"I'm okay." You responded. "I'm more than okay. In fact, I'm starting to see someone else in a different light." You looked at Yunho, whose eyes got a little bigger at your words. "I owe you the biggest apology."

"An apology? Why?"

"You've been there for me so many times when I was upset and have allowed me to vent to you. I feel like I didn't acknowledge that enough. I'm sorry I never noticed it."

His expression softened. "You've thanked me many times in the past, so you don't owe me an apology, Y/n."

"No, I do." You took in a deep breath, releasing slowly. "I realized something."

"What?"

"I've been chasing after the wrong person. I was so caught up chasing after Mingi that I didn't pay attention to what, or rather who, was in front of me. Who was and is always there for me."

Yunho swallowed, shifting in his seat a bit as his heart rate increased. He didn't wanna get ahead of himself, but if this was going where he though it was, he was about to combust.

"All those times I talked about Mingi in front of you, I had no idea how you felt. I feel like such a jerk. If I'd known, I wouldn't have gushed about him in front of you." You picked at your nails anxiously before continuing. "And I know this feels like it's coming out of nowhere, but I like you, Yunho. It took a big event in my life to realize how I felt. Once I let Mingi go, I started to realize my feelings for you. I hope I'm not too late and haven't screwed things up by taking so long to figure it all out."

"You like me?" He asked softly, not quite believing it even though it's what he hoped to hear from you.

"Yes, I do."

"For how long?"

"I started having some feelings the night I was at your place and you were teaching me how to play Valorant. You put your hands over mine and my heart went crazy." Warmth tickled your cheeks as you recalled the memory that occurred not very long ago for you.

Yunho's ears and cheeks were pink when you finally looked at him.

"You're not too late." He finally spoke. "And you're not a jerk either. You didn't know how I felt and I wanted to keep it that way. At least until I got the courage to confess, but I didn't wanna say anything since you liked Mingi so much."

"I really am sorry."

"Don't be." Yunho started leaning over the center console a bit, which prompted you to do the same, your eyes dropping to his lips for a fleeting moment before darting back to his eyes.

"I really want to kiss you right now." He whispered.

"Go for it."

The narrowing gap between your faces diminished completely as Yunho pushed aside his inhibitions and kissed you. His lips were soft and warm, pressing firmly against yours. If there were any lingering Mingi-related thoughts in your mind, they would've been chased away immediately, being replaced with ones about Yunho and how you wanted to kiss him forever. Your already rapid heart rate skyrocketed when his large hand slid up the side of your face to cradle your cheek, taking up almost the entirety of the space there. His touch was almost as delicate as his kisses, his thumb lightly rubbing your cheek as his lips encased your bottom one before dragging over it. Suddenly, you were mildly agitated with the car's center console that was preventing you from getting closer to Yunho, who pulled away far too soon.

"Would you be my girlfriend?" He asked breathlessly, his cheeks flushed from the kiss.

"I would." A smile was barely contained as you responded, leaning in to kiss him, again frustrated by the console as your elbow bumped it in the process. You parted ways just enough to speak. "Do you wanna come inside for a bit?"

Yunho pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to hold back an exited grin, nodding before pulling his car keys from the ignition.

The both of you couldn't seem to move fast enough, getting out of the car and speed-walking to your front door where you fumbled with your keys. You barely had time to toss them into the glass dish in the foyer and shut the door before Yunho was pulling you back to him, his arms snaking around your waist to keep you close as he kissed you deeply.

It took buying an hourglass that sent you back to the past to get to this moment, which sounded completely bizarre, but you wouldn't have it any other way because it made you realize what you wanted had been in front of you the whole time.

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