#My Name kdrama x Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seouljazzbar · 4 months ago

Text

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #seouljazzbar

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cannellee · 2 months ago

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TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE (boarding school au!) ☆ part. 1

୨୧ yandere! alpha! tokyorev x omega! f! reader (harem : mikey, draken, mitsuya, chifuyu, kazutora, baji, ran, rin, izana, kakucho, kokonoi, inupi, sanzu, kisaki, hanma)

— you're joining an elite all-boy (and alpha) boarding school and they all turn out to have a very dark affection for you.

cw : reverse harem, yandere themes, harassment, bullying, blackmailing, stalking, possessive and controlling behaviour etc.

a/n : I had the idea thanks to this post and from the kdrama hierarchy I just finished watching + I hope it's not messy + they'll be multiple parts to it I think...

MY MASTERLIST : ☆

having a girl attend an all-boy school is unusual, but an omega enrolling in a place filled with alphas is almost unheard of.

let's simply say that your father was suddenly transferred to another school, forcing the both of you to move in tokyo in the course of a week only. your dad is offered a room directly inside the building with other of his colleagues and for convenience, his only daughter was allowed to reside here as well.

the school is pretty far away from the rest of the city too, and with all the wealth this school has accumulated, they find the generosity in themselves to let you attend classes with the others in exchange for your father's appreciated hard work.

there aren't a lot of students you point out, but they seem to all stand out in their own way. your class is composed of the elite, boys all born with a golden spoon, privileged lifestyles and a brilliant future.

you're intimidated at first, scared even, not used to being surrounded by so many alphas at once. you feel like a prey once you enter the classroom for the first time, the news has passed around quickly and the students grew very curious of the sweet faced omega who was going to join them soon.

you quickly got to learn the name of the rep, who has been nothing but welcoming to you and made your arrival as pleasing as possible. mitsuya made sure to show you around, he was kind and reliable, giving you his number almost immediately after your first encounter.

you had spent the day glued to his side, shyly smiling to his friends and listening attentively to the advices he gave you. the next morning, you came a bit sooner, rushing over to the empty seat he had kept for you right in front of him, happily thanking him for his kindness.

mitsuya is quick to present you his closest friend draken, a big and strong alpha who's just that tall you can't help but notice him. despite his menacing appearance, draken is calm and collected and keeps his pheromones in check. you even notice how pleasantly odourless the whole classroom has been since your arrival. you had expected to feel your nose burn from the intense pheromones and testosterone alphas usually emitted, but you had to admit they were rather well behaved and you mentally thanked them for their thoughtfulness.

draken helps you out during sport lessons, shows you how to score when playing basketball, catches the ball for you before gently handing it to you and makes sure the others are being careful around you.

mikey's the one who offers you his sweater once it gets cold during the late night classes or when it gets dark outside and going back to your rooms through the immense garden is a bit of a challenge. he doesn't really let you argue and throws it over your shoulders, he doesn't give room for discussion and you're too cooperative to refuse anyway. you notice that the others instinctively act a little less clingy when he's interacting with you, you find their group dynamic quite interesting and you like how comfortable they make you feel.

his scent often lingers on you for hours afterwards, even going the next day with a tiny patch of mikey's distinctive aroma on your shoulder. you sometimes see him eyeing that exact spot with a lot of intensity that if often destabilises you. when you look up at him with a puzzled look, he simply gives you a kind smile, hiding behind it how possessive you make him.

you later meet kazutora, who doesn't waste time introducing himself to you. you notice that he's pretty popular, always in the middle of all conversations, laughing loudly with the other boys and receiving every invitations to every parties. he always tries to get your attention one way or another, bragging about his good grades, casually flirting with you before someone else reprimands him for that. you should come and see one of his game soon ! he's in the basketball team with draken and the both of them would love to see you cheer on them in the bleachers.

chifuyu's room's right next to yours. when mitsuya first showed you your room, he had called him to help you unpack and settle here comfortably. chifuyu's awkward but he's got the spirit, almost choking on his own saliva once he catches a sniff of your sweet scent for the first time. were all omegas supposed to smell this good or are you just the exception ?

then there's kisaki, who visits you quite often, pretending that he likes it better to be in your room after classes only because it's easier to talk without the hubbub of other students. you notice how sweaty his palms are, nervous gaze desperately trying to find something to look at if not your chest, and hands fixing his glasses every minute or so. he helps you out with your homework, of course your level is nowhere near theirs. they're the elite, born and raised in the best conditions possible to rise and become part of the top of society. he's sighing a lot, slightly mocking how hard you find your homework even though all of them are able to finish them with ease. he explains it all, shaking his head at how cutely dumb this pretty omega is and how helpless she'll be once thrown into the big wide world. will you be able to survive on your own ? kisaki is skeptical...

by hanging out often with kisaki, you're naturally bound to meet his best friend, hanma. he's exactly what you would think of when imagining a "privileged delinquent". he smokes behind the building, skips classes but still manages to score high and doesn't take shit from anyone. you would find funny how easy life is for them if the power they hold over the teachers and their school headmaster wasn't pretty horrifying. the hierarchy clearly wasn't anything close to normal, as every family of those students were very influential, a tantrum from one them is all it would take to have a teacher fired on the spot. you quickly learned that when a new professor tried to teach hanma some manners and reprimand him for carrying cigarettes with him. the poor man didn't get the justice he should have had and instead was gone the next day.

but no matter he says, hanma is actually pretty thoughtful. he always tells you to stay away from those toxic garbage and that only he is allowed to do that. he makes sure to never smoke near you and sprays perfume before coming over to you. you can scold him all you want as well, he likes to hear you nagging him. but that's just you, nobody else.

anyways, hanma warned you that if one of those assholes (students and teachers alike) were to bother you, you should simply talk to him about it. he seemed very adamant about making your year here very pleasant and you thank him for that, even if you don't necessarily approuve of his methods.

· · ୨୧ · ·

lately you've been feeling like somebody's following you... but you simply shrug it off as baji is always with you. he's confident and assertive, you don't feel nervous around him. he's part of the swimming club and invites you over during his competitions. he drags you to one of the privatised pool under his name at your school and helps you out in the water, enjoying more than he should how you cling to him whenever you get too tired and he won't let you go back to edge. he feels your soft boobs pressing against his firm skin and sees the sweet panic in your eyes and his instincts jump out immediately.

· · ୨୧ · ·

saint valentine's near and you can practically hear them all whine with impatience. of course their adorable omega was going to bake something, isn't she the best ? tight apron tied around your perfect waist, you're trying hard to make as many chocolate as possible, putting them in small boxes and decorating them with a pink ribbon.

you're glad they let you use their own kitchen, the one you and your father had along with his colleagues was nothing sort of dreamy, used and damaged. theirs was huge, clean and filled to the brim with the latest and most sophisticated tools you could only dream of. they told you to use it whenever you had something you wanted to bake instead of that poor excuse of a kitchen, living inside that garbage was a crime they thought, they couldn't let their precious omega walk around in such filth...

sanzu almost begged you to bake some chocolate for him, you even thought he was gonna end up on his knees from how hard he was pleading... you laughed a bit at his antics and gave him his holy grail with your usual smile that never fails to make him want to bite your cute cheeks. mikey's eagerly waiting for his own share of chocolate and you promptly give them all theirs without forgetting to thank them for how kind they all were since the beginning of the year.

· · ୨୧ · ·

that's... weird. you never thought you would've felt unsafe inside the buildings of this school with how protective they all were. but again, you should have expected that from at least one of them, you're in an all-alpha school after all...

but now you're all alone, the late night snack you left your room for tightly held in your fist and frantic eyes searching around you for anyone awake at this hour too. you didn't think someone would actually assault you in such a place, but here you were...

the corridor is empty, dim lights don't help your vision at all and the foul scent of an alpha is invading your nose.

the boy starts to dig his nose inside the crook of your neck and you physically recoil at the intrusive action, shaking at how forcibly submissive it makes you.

lucky for you, the lights turn on and a familiar small group of alphas arrive after a minute only. mikey's the one to give the first blow before leaving the rest to baji and sanzu. kakucho is as kind as ever, the most reassuring person you could wish for and softly makes sure you're alright after the small scolding of mitsuya. of course you should've called one of them if you were hungry ! only a helpless omega like you would have done that, so vulnerable and in need of a saviour... how did you even survive on your own before meeting them ?

you honestly can't answer nor think straight anymore next to the pleading of the beaten up boy, the two angry alphas spreading pheromones you wish you didn't smell because of how strong they are...

· · ୨୧ · ·

— second part coming soon...

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sweetandabitspycho · 1 year ago

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My Name HC Dating Them

Jung Taeju then Gangjae

Ps sorry it took so long. Hope you like it.

Jung Taeju

He is actually romantic, once he starts to fall in love.

Loves to have date nights in, but also likes to take you to a fancy dinner.

He is extremely protective of you

He will teach you how to fight. Which will end with you both sweaty and having take out in the gym

He will have an arm around you when you are at the Dongcheonpa gym.

Has a knife made for you.

He can't sleep without you, he has to have you in his arms.

Mujin will probably hate you at first, he doesn't want his friend to get hurt. BUT he will love you in the end.

Taeju loves to take you shopping and loves when you go watch fights together.

Will kill for you, and always check you for cuts.

He is a teddy bear

Do Gangjae

Gangjae is insecure. He has a fear of people leaving him so he does everything to push you away.

Loves when you wear his clothes. Will give you his shirt or jacket if you get cold. He doesn't care about being shirtless.

He isn't the most romantic, but he does try. Roses, candles, fancy dinner, cuddles after.

He will teach you how to fight and will let you win. It definitely ends steamy.

Has to touch you, no matter what.

Loves if you sit on him in the club, and if you are in his gang you are his right hand.

Loves to have your head in his neck. Let's you sleep on him when he is doing business. Definitely get the joker vibs for him.

He will have a tattoo that is for you.

#jung taeju x reader #Gangjae x reader #my name netflix #my name x reader #my name kdrama #taeju x reader #Jung Taeju #taeju #Gangjae #x reader #x ym #xyn

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wheeboo · 4 months ago

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tell me that you love me | joshua hong {part one}

SYNOPSIS. in which you and joshua are simply different in more ways than one, yet only seem to find a common ground in struggling to chase your dreams. so why does life keep throwing you two at each other, despite your different worlds, and why does it feel so terrifyingly right? PAIRING. musician!joshua hong x deaf-artist!reader (ft. cafe owner!jeonghan, musician!seokmin, best friend!seungkwan, best friend!wheein, producer!jihoon) GENRE. fluff, slice of life, kdrama romance-esque, mild angst, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn WARNINGS/TAGS. cursing, shua and reader has some self-doubt issues :(, someone makes insensitive comments about reader, mention of alcohol (beer), mention of cigarettes, everyone ships them, kissing, terms of endearment, Softie Domestic Joshua™, it conveniently rains when they're together, this is 85% fluff and 15% plot and the brainrot was giving me an existential crisis, honestly there's not much warnings it's just a love story <3 WORD COUNT (FOR PART ONE). 20k WORD COUNT (FOR FULL FIC). 37k

notes: after 7 months (minus the 2 months i lowkey abandoned this oop), it's done! this fic could have honestly been 20k words, but the brainrot refused to do so. inspired from the kdrama of the same name and the jdrama Aishiteiru to Itte Kure. any uses/descriptions of sign language (ASL) throughout the story is researched! expressing my love to all my mooties who suffered listening to me talk abt this fic. i hope this fic being long doesn't bore you all to death <3 funny enough, this was also supposed to be a very very very belated bday fic to @slytherinshua LMFAO. ty to @bananabubble for also helping me a lot with this fic too!

part one | part two

“Okay, so to recap: the espresso machines are on the right side of the counter, just next to the pastry display. You'll get familiar with them really easily. The barista station is behind them, where all the little doohickeys are, yaddi-yaddi-yadda…”

“Aren't you supposed to be teaching me where everything is?” Joshua asks in slight annoyance after securing the apron around his waist.

Jeonghan just chugs a wet, dripping rag in his direction, narrowly missing Joshua's head and landing with a damp plop on the counter. Then he wipes his hands on his apron, shooting a small wink at the other man. “Patience, grasshopper.”

“Why did you decide to hire me again?”

“So I can finally kick you out of my apartment," Jeonghan answers, a playful bite to his voice, and Joshua only rolls his own eyes. “in a non-violent way, of course.”

“You're actually an imbecile, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Oh, but you love me.” Jeonghan smirks, plucking the wet rag from the counter and shoving it in Joshua's hand. “Chop-chop, grasshopper, you got a whole day ahead of you.”

Joshua Hong was never one to detest helping out a friend𑁋his best friend, to be specific. He knew Jeonghan was doing this in order to help him out as he had been living under the man's roof for the past two years, with the promise of finding a new place testing his patience. Even with his nightly gigs at the busking centre in the middle of town, having a day job to earn some extra money seemed like a very good idea.

But he seriously doesn't understand how Jeonghan managed to open up his own café in the first place. It's remarkable, actually.

The day is surprisingly slow. Even with the café being in the mere heart of the city and amidst the morning and afternoon rush, barely any pastries were taken from the display. The only sounds come from the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall, and the obnoxious screech of the stool that Jeonghan sits on not that far away.

However after some time, the familiar, soft chime of the door echoes throughout the café, announcing the arrival of a customer. Joshua finds his head immediately snapping up after fumbling with the frother, a welcoming smile dawning across his face as he smooths his apron and takes his place at the register.

The figure in front of him is momentarily enveloped by the sunlight that seeps through the large window panes. He waits for them to step fully into the warm glow of the café, his eyes drawn to the way they hold themselves𑁋shoulders slightly hunched, hands tucked deep within the pockets of a lightweight jacket, and seemingly a book tucked under their shoulders. Their steps are slow, soft even as they approach the counter, and a smile, gentle and hesitant, plays on their lips.

“Hi, welcome in," Joshua greets politely. “What can I get for you today?”

You find yourself gazing at the unfamiliar barista in front of you with meticulous curiosity, before letting your eyes drift to the nametag on his shirt: Joshua. His eyes immediately dart down to your hands that you lifted up on instinct, then hesitation gnaws at you, and suddenly you drop your hands back to your sides again.

“Our menu is up here.” Joshua motions above his head. “and our pastries are over here, if you would like to take a look.”

You wave your hand dismissively, then fumble for your phone, showing him an order written on the screen.

hot vanilla latte - extra foam - name is y/n

“Hot vanilla latte, extra foam?” Joshua repeats, confirming the order with a friendly smile, and the response he gets is a pair of thumbs-up. “And the name is... Y/N?”

Your face lights up, feeling some heat threaten up your neck as you offer a small nod to confirm.

There's something endearing that blooms in Joshua's chest as he punches the order down on the register. The moment is stretched with long silence before he watches as you quickly turn around to head to the outdoor sitting of the café. He sees you place yourself down at one of the seats, back turned towards him, and all he could do is let his eyes linger for a beat longer before realising that he actually has to make your order.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as he sets to work. He fumbles slightly, steaming the milk for your latte and carefully (and clumsily) creating a cloud of airy foam.

When he places the mug on the counter, his eyes drift back to where you sat outside, the slight breeze and midday sun casting down on the patio. He notices that you're hunched over, seemingly concentrating on something, and he can't help but wonder what occupies your thoughts. With the latte in hand, he heads towards the door, the bell above the door softly chiming.

The sun paints the city in dappled gold, and a light breeze sways through the air and catches a strand of your hair that floats like a wisp. It's a picture-perfect scene, and Joshua thinks you fit right into it, all while hunched over a small sketchbook and pencil in your hand flying across the page.

He hesitates right behind you, unsure how to get your attention without startling you. Every option that he mulls over seems intrusive and jarring.

In the end, Joshua decides on a gentle tap on your shoulder. As his fingers make contact with your shoulder, a sudden jolt runs through your body, and you visibly startle, your hand flinching involuntarily and coming in contact with the mug in Joshua's hand.

The glass mug slips from Joshua's grasp, crashing down to the floor in thousands of tiny shards. Hot coffee splashes, hitting the skin of both of your hands and splattering on your sketchbook. Gasps fly from both your lips, echoing throughout the quiet patio. You wince in your seat, nearly causing you to stumble off but you manage to catch yourself.

For a long moment, Joshua could only find himself frozen, yet when he notices the pained look on your face, he instinctively reaches out, grabbing your hand without thinking. Your fingers curl around his in a startled reflex, your skin warm against his own. He cradles your hand in his, pressing his palm against your skin, as if trying to shield you from the worst of the heat and the glass scattered around the two of you.

Adrenaline courses through him as he pulls your hand back, examining it frantically. A thin red line crosses near your thumb, a tiny bead of blood sprouting at its edge. Panic claws at his throat, but he forces himself to stay calm. You're watching him, eyes wide with a mix of shock and pain, and he sees his own fear reflected in your pupils.

“Crap, I-I'm so sorry!” he blurts out, voice rough with regret. “Are you okay? I shouldn't have... I should have been more careful…”

You watch as Joshua's eyes scan your hand, the features of his face noticeably soft and etched with concern. The warmth of his hand cradling yours sends a jolt through you, something unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.

When you look back up at him, he asks if you're okay again, your gaze focusing in on his lips then back up at his eyes. You can tell he's worried𑁋he even seems breathless from all the panic too. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you silently answer with a nod.

The air seems to thicken with awkwardness. Joshua's gaze lingers down on your hand cradled in his trembling ones, the sight of a tiny cut on the flesh between your thumb and index finger sending a fresh wave of shame to come crashing down on him.

When you both lock eyes once again, you feel a flutter in your stomach. Then Joshua clears his throat, a million apologies tumbling over each other in his mind.

“I, uh…” he begins, then stops, unsure how to proceed. “Does it hurt a lot?”

You realise he's asking about you, and you peer down at your hand, the sting of the burn momentarily forgotten in the face of his genuine worry. It's just a small red line, a minor burn that will fade in time, and a tiny cut where the glass had scratched. But the warmth radiating from his hand cupped over yours feels oddly... comforting.

You shake your head, then motion to his own hand, as if asking the same thing.

Joshua blinks in surprise. He examines it, a small line of red just starting to show from a small cut, and a tiny calloused area from the burn of the coffee. It was barely noticeable, and it admittedly stung with a dull ache, but he wouldn't acknowledge that𑁋he didn't want to make you worry. It's not that bad, he thinks, but his thoughts are instantly replaced with concern for you.

“Here, let me... I'll get some bandages for you.” He gently releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary, and rises to his feet. “And a new drink, of course. On the house.”

Before you can give him a nod or anything, you watch him walk towards the café, the sunlight reflecting off his dark hair. He turns back once inside, and your eyes meet across the wall of glass. You offer a smile, and raise your hand in a small wave. He returns one sheepishly, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes just slightly, before disappearing to the side.

You stand up as well, shooting a glance down at your sketchbook, the brown splatter bleeding across a corner of the paper. It didn't look like a lot of it was damaged luckily𑁋you could probably incorporate it into the drawing somehow. The thought seems to soothe you.

Joshua mutters curses to himself as he struggles to find the first-aid kit underneath the counter in the employee's only restroom. He rummages through a drawer, tossing aside spare toilet paper rolls until he finally lays eyes on the small white box labeled First Aid.

“Knew you wouldn't be a great match for this,” Jeonghan's voice rings out suddenly as Joshua retrieves a few pieces of bandages, the man finally emerging after what seems like a long ass hour of a break.

“You finally regret hiring me now?” Joshua scoffs playfully, waving the bandages in front of Jeonghan's face. “They haven't spoken to me at all, so I have no idea if they're okay or not.”

Jeonghan lifts up an eyebrow. “They aren't speaking?" Some silence passes. "Is their name Y/N?”

Joshua looks back at him. “Yeah, why?”

“They come here a lot, like a regular, usually just drawing and stuff, I think,” Jeonghan points out, pursing his lips together. “and… they’re also deaf.”

The age of seven was the last time you heard your voice.

You went to bed ill with a high fever that night, only to wake up the next morning in a muted world. The change wasn't a gradual muffling or a sudden pop like a balloon bursting. It was all simply... gone. You didn't hear the pitter-patter of the morning rain against the window, the rumble of the air conditioner, or even your own heart beating in your chest𑁋but you could feel it.

At first, you thought it was a trick, perhaps a dream that had somehow bled into reality. You screamed, but no sound escaped your lips. You shook your parents awake, but their worried questions were met with your frustrated silence. Tears streamed down your face as they rushed you to the hospital. Then all the tests, scans, diagnoses𑁋they all came to the same the same result: a sudden, inexplicable loss of hearing.

Learning to navigate the world growing up without sound was a slow, exhausting process. You learned to read lips, got used to communicating with sign language, understand the subtle cues of body language, and rely on written words. Your world shrunk, confined to the walls of your home and studio, the familiar faces of your family, the lens of your camera, and the canvases that could speak for you.

You got used to this world of silence. You got used to the fact that you have to live in harmony with those around you, to put in that extra effort to understand them so you could simply be accepted and heard, for once. At a young age, you became adept at expressing yourself through art𑁋capturing the beauty of the silent world you inhabited, the emotions that flowed through your fingertips onto canvases and photographs.

Honestly, the world is so beautiful. Even though you can't hear the bustling city around you, the distant conversations, or the groans of traffic, you've learned to see and appreciate the world in a way others might overlook𑁋finding beauty in the stillness that surrounds you. The way sunlight dances on the leaves, the gentle sway of trees, the vibrant colours that paint the sky during sunset, the look of love between two lovers.

The city is especially colourful at night. Neon store signs burning bright against the dark canvas of the evening sky, people around you moving in routine patterns, and cars flying down the streets. You've perfected the art of capturing these moments, freezing them in time with your camera, and bringing them to life with just a simple brushstroke.

You can't hear the laughter spilling from a nearby work dinner or the murmured conversation of a couple walking hand-in-hand, but you see it all in the tilt of their heads, the curve of their lips, the spark of their eyes. You watch the way their bodies move, the sway of their hips, the swing of their arms, and their stories unfold before you like a silent movie on a grand screen. And that in itself, is beautiful.

You click through the photos you've taken throughout the day on your camera carefully, biting your bottom lip in concentration. There's a photo of a child chasing pigeons in the park, a flock of birds flying through the cloudless sky, a cat lounging in a window sill, and a smile breaks across your lips.

However, you find yourself accidentally bumping into something, or someone. Hastily, you bring your head up to the stranger to apologise, yet they walk away before you even could. Letting out a sigh, you bring your attention back to your surroundings, and your eyes widen to the crowd of people gathered in the small square you hadn't noticed before.

Your eyes dart around, trying to scan through the sea of faces while slowly pushing through the crowd as your curiosity gets the best of you. And when you get yourself to nearly the core of the crowd, you could only freeze to the sight in front of you.

There's a man perched on a wooden stool in the middle, a guitar entangled in his grasp and a microphone stand standing idle in front of him. You can hardly make out his face since you're standing to the side, but for some reason, all you can do is watch in awe.

You can't hear his words, of course. But you feel them. You feel them in the way his fingers dance across the strings, in the way his head dips with the melody, in the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. You see them in the way the light catches his hair, in the way the shadows dance on his face, in the way his eyes flutter open for a fleeting moment.

Then a sudden urge makes you reach for your camera, quickly turning it on and bringing it up to your eyes. And with a simple click of the shutter, you capture the moment in a perfect frame, before weaving through the crowd once more and back into the fresh air of the city.

You look down at the photo, and it tugs at your heartstrings. The nearby lighting catches his face just right, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the gentle curve of his smile. He's lost in the music, his skilled fingers dancing across the strings of his guitar, eyes closed as he seems to pour his soul into every note. You zoom in on the photo, admiring the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

He looks familiar, somehow. You rack your brain, trying to place him, but your mind draws a blank. You've stumbled into the busking area by accident countless times and captured endless moments through your lens, but this one feels different.

The vending machine swallowed his dollar. Literally.

Joshua pounds his fist on the lousy machine a few times, wraps his arms around it like a koala hug and attempts to give it a few shakes, hoping that the drink would somehow drop to the bottom, but nothing happens. Letting out a groan, he takes a step back and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. Great.

He glances around the area, scanning to find some sort of alternative solution, and his eyes set on a convenience store just a few blocks down. He takes a few steps in the direction, before something brushes past him and causes him to stop.

“Hey, the vending machine doesn't work…” Yet when he turned his body around, he didn't expect to see you making your way to the machine, tapping on the keypad and inserting a dollar, all for the machine to spit out two cans of sodas.

Joshua watches as you bend down to retrieve the cans, peering down in confusion at the second one in your hand. Then when you straighten and look back up, the two of you suddenly meet eyes.

There's a brief pause, and you can't really tell if Joshua is staring at you like you've grown a second head or something else. Then you glance down to the extra drink in your hand, and ah, it clicks.

Your lips move in a silent question, and Joshua realises you must be offering him the extra can. He waves his hand, signaling that it's okay, but you insist, gesturing for him to take it. With a grateful smile, he steps up to you and reaches out, accepting the cold can from you, his fingers brushing over yours briefly.

Joshua watches as you click open the can and take a sip. When you glance back at him, his lips part, then close again, his brow furrowing together like his mind is cluttered. You can't hear his thoughts, of course, but the way his eyes dart from your face to your hands and back again seems like he's trying to ask you something.

“Is your…” he starts to ask, pointing to your hand, noticing that your hand appeared bare of the bandages he gave you more than a week ago. “Is your hand feeling better now?”

You catch his words by reading his lips, and you nod with a reassuring smile. Relief washes over Joshua's features, his eyes softening, and he gestures again towards your hand as if to make sure it's healing alright.

“Wait, I... Sorry, let me start this over.” Joshua seems to mentally take a deep breath. “I'm Joshua, by the way. I should've introduced myself properly first.”

You know that already, but hearing him formally introduce himself ever since your little mishap at the café brings a strange flutter to your chest. You notice Joshua shift from foot to foot, the smile to his face faltering just slightly.

“Is it okay if I ask if you're…” Joshua motions to his ear, then shakes his head, seeing that it might come across as insensitive. Instead, he points to his own mouth and then makes a questioning gesture with his eyebrows, hoping you'll understand what he's trying to ask.

You nod, understanding his question perfectly, raising your hand and making a simple sign, tapping your ear and then shaking your head. You've had this conversation countless times before, with strangers and acquaintances alike. But there's something different about the way Joshua asks𑁋something softer, more genuine.

“I should've realised sooner,” Joshua says. "I'm sorry if that came off as rude.”

You wave your hand dismissively and tap your temple, then point to his mouth, conveying that you could read his lips just as you've been doing this entire time, and Joshua could only watch your movements carefully. Though relief mixes with a tinge of embarrassment in his limbs. He hadn't meant to pry, but curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by putting you on the spot like that. He could tell you've probably heard this conversation many times with other people, yet you seem to handle it with such patience.

With a wry smile, you secure your can of soda under your arm before bringing your hands up, signing heartedly, “It's okay,” and Joshua watches your movements with awe and also... a little confusion.

“Can I ask what that means?” he asks slowly, curiously.

You wave a dismissive hand in front of his face, pulling out your phone, quickly typing out something before showing it to him.

It means that it's okay

“Ah, I see,” Joshua responds with a sheepish smile, attempting to clumsily repeat the action with his own hands, but he quickly brings it back to his side. “If I'm speaking too fast, feel free to let me know. I'll try to slow down.”

You shake your head, typing on your phone once more.

Thank you, but you're doing just fine, I promise

A blush creeps onto Joshua's cheeks as he reads your message. He's relieved you're not bothered by his questions, but the awareness that you've been understanding him all along makes him feel a bit silly. In a good way, of course. He takes a hesitant sip of his soda, the silence between you stretching just a bit too long. He wants to talk to you, really talk, but he's unsure where to begin.

As you both stand there, with the city's sounds humming around, Joshua feels the nerves crawling up his skin. He gestures towards the convenience store nearby, silently asking if you need anything. You shake your head, indicating that you're good, but then motion down the road, pointing at something down the street.

“Are you heading somewhere?” Joshua asks, and he feels his heart jump once he sees you nod, feeling proud for understanding what you're trying to say.

You pull out your phone again, typing:

The museum

“The museum?” Joshua repeats, picking his head back up to squint down the street. He feels the hesitation at the tip of his tongue, as if considering something. But then, the intrusive action takes over, and he points in the same direction. “Would it be okay if I walk with you? The café is near there. I was about to head there myself.”

You notice the uncertainty in his eyes. Joshua watches your face for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort or rejection. However, you simply offer a warm smile and a nod in response, which makes Joshua feel a surge of relief. A small smile plays on his lips, and he falls into step beside you as you both start walking towards the museum.

The late afternoon sun dips below the city skyline, casting long shadows across the pavement as you and Joshua walk side-by-side, your steps falling into sync. You steal glances at him every now and then, captivated by the way his hair catches the golden rays and how the lines of his face soften. He catches your eyes a few times, which makes you both look away at the same time. It's a bit awkward admittedly, yes, but there's a certain charm to it when he's right next to you.

Joshua tries to find ways to bridge the silence, but his words tangle in his throat.

Instead, he waves a hand in front of you, earning your attention back on him.

“Do you like art?” he asks. “Back at the café, I noticed... you were drawing?” Then he does a scribbling motion with his hand.

The question hangs in the air, and you find yourself pausing to consider it. A thoughtful expression settles on your face, and Joshua watches as you take a pause to grab something from out of your bag𑁋your sketchbook𑁋before handing it to him.

He shoots a brief glance at you, as if asking for permission, but your trusting gaze encourages him. He gently opens the sketchbook. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the first page.

It looks to be a sketch of the beach, capturing the vastness of the ocean, the setting sun in the horizon, and the small details of people walking across the sands. Joshua can almost feel the warm sand beneath his bare feet and the salty tang of the air on his tongue.

He flips through the next few pages. A bustling city street, a lone bird perched on a branch, its feathers so finely detailed they seem to shimmer in the sunlight, a child's laughter echoing through a park, portrayed in a burst of joyful strokes.

Joshua feels a lump rise in his throat. He looks up at you, eyes wide with admiration and something else he can't quite define.

“Wow, these are incredible,” he manages to say. “You're so talented.”

You smile shyly, feeling the heat crawl up your cheeks as Joshua flips to the last page. In an instant, he feels his heart drop, but not in a bad way𑁋it's a page significant with the brown stain at the corner, but it's the way you seem to use the stain as a part of the sketch, blending it into the colours of the sky and the warm tones of the café.

“I was worried about your sketchbook,” he confesses, looking back at you. “I thought I would have to buy you a new one. But... I'm glad it's okay.”

He hands you back the sketchbook, his fingers brushing yours once again as the exchange is made, and you both continue your way down the sidewalk.

And then, you reach the museum.

Joshua turns towards you, and you're already looking at him. Then you pull out your phone once more, typing in a message, before showing it to him.

Thank you for walking with me

“It's𑁋You don't have to thank me,” Joshua acknowledges, his eyes reflecting sincerity. “I enjoyed it. Besides, it's the least I could do after the, uh... incident.”

You both stand a distance away from the museum entrance, knowing that you have to part ways, yet there's some hesitation in there. Joshua peers at the museum building, taking in its appearance, trying to ignore the bubbling reluctance in his chest.

“Maybe I can see you around…” But when Joshua brings his eyes back to you, you're already trailing towards the museum entrance. The embarrassment catches in his throat. He stands there for a moment with his gaze following you, clutching the can of soda, feeling the warmth radiating from it seeping into his palm.

Joshua sees you stop short in front of the entrance, turn back to him, and offer a small wave of your hand, your eyes locked with his for a brief moment. He reciprocates with a reluctant wave of his own, watching as you disappear into the museum.

He lets out a breath he didn't notice he was holding as he turns away, drinking the last sips of disappointment down his throat before throwing the empty can into a recycling bin nearby.

And while on his way to the café, the thought of you tugs at the corner of his lips.

Joshua pulls one more time on the door to the café, the keys dangling in his hand clinging loudly together as he makes sure it's all locked. When he does, he adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder, letting out a deep exhale coming straight from the core of his chest.

The sounds of fallen, dried-up leaves crunch below with every step he takes. Joshua wearily casts his eyes around, watching as surrounding local shops and other cafés switch their lights off for the night. A bus rushes past him as he continues walking down the street, bringing with it a gust of wind that ruffles his hair. The city is slowly settling into its nighttime rhythm, and Joshua can feel the shift in energy around him.

As he walks, his attention is drawn to a figure up ahead. It appears to be an elderly lady, a large box in her grasp, her movements slow and careful. The box looks heavy, with whatever inside threatening to spill over the top with every wobbling step she takes. Joshua quickens his pace immediately, concern knitting at his brows.

“Wait, ma’am! Let me help you.” Once he arrives at her side, he shifts his backpack down to the ground and reaches out to steady the box. The elderly lady looks up at him with surprise and relief.

“Ah, thank you, young man,” she says, voice quivering slightly as Joshua hoists a hold of the entire box, a groan leaving him at the unexpected heaviness.

“Where are we heading to?” he asks.

“Just… into there.” The older lady motions with a slender finger to the tiny store tucked between a closed dry cleaner and a flower shop.

He can’t really see where he was going, but he hears the ding of a door opening and the old woman’s voice gently guiding him inside. He carefully navigates through the narrow doorway as the smell of old books, musty paper, and something faintly sweet hits him as soon as he steps inside. When he feels his foot seemingly hit the leg of a table, he cautiously sets the box on top of it, making sure it's stable before straightening back up.

“There we go,” he mutters, huffing out a tired breath. “Is there anything else that you need help with?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” The elderly woman shifts past him to examine the box, before reaching over for a pair of scissors to begin tearing into it. “These old bones can’t do much anymore these days.”

Joshua laughs faintly at that, setting his hands on his hips as he takes a look around the bookstore. It’s noticeably tiny, with only a few tall shelves taking up more than half of the space and a cluttered counter at the front with stacks of books waiting to be set out.

He swipes a random book off the shelf, some dust particles hitting his nose and causing him to sneeze. He chuckles softly, feeling a bit sheepish. The elderly lady looks up at him, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Bless you,” she says kindly. “Not many people find their way here these days. It's nice to see a young face.”

“Really?” he questions. “It’s very vintage. I bet there’s a lot of history here.”

“For sure,” the lady responds wistfully. “You should head home now. Sleeping early is good for your health.”

Joshua places the book back on the shelf before heading his way back to the front. The elderly woman hands him back his backpack, wiping away some grime and dust that may have settled on it in the meantime. She continues to shower him with thanks even after he steps past the door. He bids her a wave and a good night before beginning to head his way back home.

However, a sudden thought crosses his head, and he doesn’t give the way his feet turn back around much hesitation at all.

He pushes the door open to the bookstore, swallows a lump in his throat, and lets his eyes meet back with the curious old lady.

“Actually,” he starts, smiling somewhat bashfully. “Do you happen to have any books on sign language?”

“Did you finish totaling it up?”

“Hmm, yeah. Give me a second.” Joshua quickly flips through the bills in his hand, splitting it up as evenly as he could, before handing the rest to Seokmin. “294 dollars.”

Seokmin chuckles, grabbing the money from Joshua before unplugging the microphone. “Not too bad, to be honest, and it's on the worser days of the week.”

“It did help that you were here today. I owe you for that,” Joshua admits cheekily, packing up his guitar inside the case and zipping it up. “Got time for a meal later? My treat.”

Seokmin clicks his tongue, shaking his head while wrapping the microphone cord around the stand. “Maybe next time? I have plans.”

Joshua raises an eyebrow, picking his head up to look at Seokmin. Oh, he knows what's going on, and Seokmin isn't really the best at hiding his facial expressions, or anything really at all. The older man just rolls his eyes, chucking a small pebble in his direction, making Seokmin let out a loud yelp as he dodges it.

“Alright, alright. I get it. Go enjoy your date.”

Seokmin's face reddens, and he huffs, “It's not a date! We're just getting dinner, that's all.”

“Sure, sure,” Joshua continues to tease, standing up and slinging his guitar case over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, buttercup. Have fun, though.”

Seokmin just shoots him a playful glare, grabbing a bag of his own belongings and the microphone stand before heading off, promising another day to catch up, and leaving Joshua alone in the quiet square.

Letting out a sigh, Joshua glances down at his watch, noticing the late time displayed. He contemplates whether he should head back to the café to help Jeonghan with closing, head straight back to the apartment, or stop by somewhere to grab some food, and the thought of food makes his stomach rumble𑁋he decides on making a quick stop at a convenience store.

The convenience store is a familiar sight, one that he goes to often and tucked away in a quiet corner of the street, its bright lights illuminating the surroundings outside and the wet streets. There's a slight drizzle that starts as Joshua enters inside, the door letting out a soft chime. The cashier welcomes him with a nod as he starts to stroll through the aisles.

Joshua wanders through the narrow aisles, scanning the shelves for a quick bite to eat. His gaze lands on a shelf filled with instant noodles, and he grabs a couple of cup noodles (and a can of beer for good measure), figuring they would be enough for a simple dinner. As he makes his way to the cashier, the door rings once more, and he turns to spot a familiar face entering inside𑁋you.

Your eyes meet in an instant as Joshua fumbles with the stuff in his hands, the cup noodles and can of beer suddenly feeling heavier than a sack of bricks. His guitar nearly slides off his shoulder too.

You stare at him for a moment as if in confusion or contemplation. Joshua thinks he sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes. Then your lips curve into a hesitant smile, and the world seems to tilt on its axis. You hadn't expected to see him again, not so soon, but the sight of him fills you with a sense of... comfort, perhaps.

A bashful look washes over your face, and you offer a small wave, your fingers curling into a silent hello. Joshua returns the gesture, his own smile hesitant but clearly genuine.

The silence hangs between you, awkward but strangely filled with something, both of you seemingly unsure of what to say.

Joshua shuffles the abominable weight in his feet, the cup noodles in his grasp feeling like ridiculous boulders.

“Hey,” he mutters out, struggling for words, mentally slapping himself in the face. “I was just about to grab some dinner.”

You watch him, gaze tracing over the lines of his face, the gentle curve of his lips, the nervous glint in his eyes. You feel a sudden urge to reach out and somehow wipe away the worry engraving his features, but your hands remain clasped at your side.

He catches your gaze, and his cheeks flush with a faint blush.

“Would you like to join me?”

The offer floats in the air, hanging between the two of you like a question mark. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, and Joshua fidgets nervously, almost regretfully, while waiting for your response.

Yet unusually, there's something about this that feels... right. Perhaps it's the familiarity of his presence, or something else entirely. You've never really been asked this before, and it feels weird and a bit intimidating, but for some reason, you don't exactly want to step away. The thought of sharing a meal with someone𑁋with him𑁋shoots a bullet of curiosity through you.

Whatever it is, you want to trust it.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your gaze to meet his. Then you give him a shy smile, one not quite reaching your eyes, and nod ever so slightly.

The cashier looks between the two of you as Joshua places the cup noodles and can of beer on the counter. The chime of the cash register rings out as he pays, and you soon follow after with your own food, placing your own items on the counter, then you both head towards a nearby seating area together.

A growing tapping of rain hits the earth outside as the two of you pick a spot in front of the windows. Joshua sets down his leather bag and guitar, and you place your own painter-splattered canvas tote right next to it.

Joshua feels a tap on his shoulder while aimlessly stirring through his ramen, and he watches as you sign him something with your hands. He doesn't entirely understand what you were signing, but he picks up the motion of a guitar, and he brightens up.

“Guitar?” He gestures to the guitar case nestled at his leg, and he watches as you nod and point at him. “Me? Guitar?”

You give a thumbs-up, and Joshua chuckles, feeling proud for picking up on your words.

“Yeah, I... I've been playing since I was young,” he answers, and you read his lips carefully. “Just as a hobby though, not professionally.”

Your mouth opens in awe, then you lift your hands up again, making a swinging motion with one arm and motioning at him, and Joshua tilts his head curiously.

“Book?” he questions, and you shake your head. He thinks again, repeating your movements. “Oh! Music? Do I make music?”

When you nod again, his heart flutters with victory.

“I play and sing sometimes. Just... small gigs and stuff, nothing too fancy,” he admits meekly. “I've written a few songs too. I guess it's a way to express myself, you know?”

You soak in his words, your eyes focusing on his lips and the subtle shifts in his facial expressions. Joshua swears he feels himself shrink under your gaze, but it feels almost relieving to tell this to you.

You bring your hands up, signing something, and Joshua watches intently, attempting to replicate your movements himself while trying to catch the meaning behind the gestures.

“You... like music?” he ventures, and you give him a small nod.

Joshua smiles at this, before it falters slightly. He opens his mouth up to speak, and you perk up, but then he closes it quickly. He feels the anxiety blooming within him, not knowing how to approach the question without making you uncomfortable.

“Can I…” he starts, feeling regretful already. “Can I ask... how do you…”

You notice the hesitation in Joshua's eyes, seeing how he's trying to ask as delicately as possible without crossing a line. But you already know what he's trying to ask, and you feel yourself willing to answer.

You reach for your phone, and Joshua observes as you type out your words, eyes lingering on the features of your side-profile for a few moments. You show him the message:

Sheet music, song lyrics, vibrations, chords, memories of sounds

“Vibrations, chords…” he leisurely reads out aloud to himself, feeling a mix of understanding and admiration course through him. And when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes widen and seem to burn brighter than the city lights outside. He understands. He gets it.

Silence stretches between you again, but it's no longer awkward; it's more comfortable now. Joshua finishes the rest of his ramen, his gaze occasionally darting towards you, and he catches the way you seem to be staring outside as the rain pours down.

He stares outside too, listening to the rain crashing loudly against the window and the occasional burst of thunder that rumbles in the distance. But then when he looks at you, all of those sounds seem to fade away.

He can't tell if you're lost in thought or simply taking in the scene, but there's a quiet comfort in your stillness that seems to draw him in.

As you watch the raindrops dance on the windowpane, a soft smile plays on your lips, and Joshua catches it. He watches you for a moment, then a sudden thought occurs to him. Slowly, he brings his hands up to his ears, covering them completely, and stares back outside. The muffled sounds of the rain and the faint hum of the convenience store fade into the distant background. It's more peaceful this way.

He likes this quietness, especially if it's with you.

You face him, tapping lightly on his forearm. Joshua brings his arms down and veers his attention back to you as you draw your hands up, separate and curl your fingers like a claw, before doing a downward motion. He finds himself repeating it as well, head tilted slightly, and then it clicks.

“Rain?” he guesses, motioning to the rain outside before signing it again. “This means rain, right?”

Your eyes widen in victory, a grin curving at your lips, giving him an approving nod. Joshua feels something catch in his throat, but you turn back to the window before he can say anything.

“Rain,” he mutters to himself, unconsciously signing the word right next to you. Then he brings his hand up again, shooting a glance toward you𑁋you're still staring out the window, and the look of content on your face makes his heart flutter a bit more𑁋before slowly fanning his hand across his face, as if to sign the word, “Beautiful.”

“I've seen you do better than this.”

The look of disappointment to your art teacher's face is unchanging as he signs to you. You feel your hands mold into each other under the desk, fingers fidgeting as you try to process the criticism. The words bounce off the walls in your mind, and the weight of them settles in your chest.

It's not that your painting is bad𑁋it's just not living up to the potential he knows you possess. The colours lack vibrancy, the brushstrokes lack emotion. He leans in, his face mere inches from the canvas, inspecting every detail.

“If you're ever going to put your work in an exhibition, it has to tell a story,” he assures sternly while continuing to sign. “Your art should speak, not just visually, but emotionally. I know you can do better.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod in understanding, though the disappointment lingers. You've been wrestling with this painting for weeks, trying to capture a fleeting emotion, a moment in time that you believed would speak to others, yet you realise you don't have a clear answer. He observes your reaction, and though his expression softens just the slightest, the expectation lingers.

“He’s probably just in a mood,” Wheein reassures you, hands flying in the air as she signs. “You know how he is with deadlines.”

“I can beat his ass for you,” Seungkwan chimes in, emphasizing a punching motion with his hands, which makes you let out a quiet laugh.

Wheein playfully shoves the younger boy in the shoulders, before snatching away the cup of iced coffee in his hands.

Seungkwan pouts in mock disappointment as Wheein steals a sip of his coffee, but the playful banter manages to lighten the mood a bit.

Wheein hands back the coffee to Seungkwan and gives you a few pats on the back. “You'll get it right, you always do. Just take a step back, clear your mind, and try again, okay?”

Her words make you faintly smile. It's not a secret that you've been experiencing a lot of pressure for this upcoming exhibition competition at the museum, an opportunity for you to finally get your art out there in the world. But the thing is that there are plenty of other artists also fighting for the spot as well, and never in your life have you felt so stuck, so drained of inspiration, so dried out of colour.

You feel a little lighter from the reassurance from your friends, but at the same time, you feel like it isn't quite enough. There's still a part of you that feels heavy inside𑁋what if you're not meant for exhibitions, if your art can't truly convey the emotions you want to express? What if you're just not meant for this? What if your art isn't enough to convey the emotions you want to share with the world?

The thought lingers as Wheein and Seungkwan dismiss themselves for the evening, and you're left alone roaming the quiet streets on your way back home. The city's lights begin to flicker to life, casting a warm glow on the dewy pavement, the streets a bit more barren than what you are used to. You try to shake off the doubt at the back of your mind, but it clings to you like the raindrops on the leaves.

As you stop at the pedestrian crossing, you shoot your eyes across the street.

A figure stands tall under the glow of a streetlamp, his features highlighted by the warm light. He's also looking across too in your direction, though it doesn't take long for his gaze to drift and land on you, and suddenly, he's waving at you.

It takes a moment for recognition to dawn on you, but when it does, time seems to stand still𑁋it's Joshua. He's standing there with his guitar case slung over his shoulder, waving at you. At first you look behind you to see if it was meant for someone else, but when you realise there's no one else around, you feel an odd pull tugging at your heart.

Because he looks... happy to see you.

Hesitantly, you raise a hand and give him a small wave back. You notice some contemplation wash over his face, and then you observe as he brings his hands up.

“Nice to see you. How are you?” he signs, albeit clumsily and a bit slow, but the effort is cute, and you find yourself lowering your gaze for a moment to bite back a chuckle.

“Tired,” You sign in response, and mimic the gesture of rubbing your eyes, a small grin playing on your lips.

Joshua's eyes crinkle at the corners, and a soft chuckle escapes his mouth as he watches your playful sign. He follows suit, pretending to yawn and miming the act of stretching, exaggerating the movements comically. It's a simple exchange, but it breaks the ice, and you find yourself smiling more genuinely now.

He ushers a hand up to his cheek. “Home?”

When you give a nod, the signal light turns green, you make your way across the street, noticing Joshua waiting for you on the other side. As you approach him, you catch the nerves in his eyes. He shifts his guitar case on his shoulder, seemingly caught between wanting to say something and waiting for your lead.

With a small tilt of your head, you gesture down the road, asking if he's headed in the same direction as you. But he shakes his head apologetically, signaling that he's heading the opposite way. For a moment, you lift a brow in question, but then Joshua points to himself and then in the direction you're heading.

“Can I…” Your eyes focus on his hands and lips. “walk... you home?”

Your breath catches in your throat, but not from any fear or apprehension. A flutter of nerves dances in your stomach, but is quickly overshadowed by a warm feeling that spreads through you.

Hesitation lingers in the air for a moment, a tiny voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the uncertainties. You didn't want him to take a detour just to walk you home, especially since he was heading in the opposite direction. But then you see the nervous tremor in his hands that mirrors your own, and how his hopeful and vulnerable gaze holds yours as if afraid he had crossed a boundary, and the doubt seems to melt away.

And so, with a soft smile, you sign, “Okay.”

As the two of you set off, the silence that follows feels different than the heavy weight of earlier. It's comfortable, expectant, like a blank canvas waiting for the first splash of colour. You steal glances at him, admiring the way the dim streetlights play on his features, the gentle twinkle that shines in his eyes, how cutely comfortable he appears wearing an oversized jean jacket that almost seems to swallow him whole. And then your eyes set on his guitar case, and curiosity fills you.

You gesture a hand at his guitar, and Joshua raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, I…” He lets out a nervous, airy laugh, fiddling with his hands as he attempts to sign and explain, “I had to get some guitar strings replaced. One of them snapped on me earlier, so I stopped by the repair shop.”

You flash him a worried look, motioning a finger at his skin.

Joshua just shakes his head, signing back comfortingly, “I'm okay.”

He watches as you tilt your head just slightly, as if in amusement, like you had caught him saying something suspicious.

You type out something on your phone before showing it to him.

The way you sign is funny

Joshua giggles quietly, and he playfully pouts, a small laugh escaping his lips. “That's mean.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest at his reaction, like a tiny seed of affection sprouting. It's almost like he's attempting to paint with his hands, and the shade isn't quite right, yet it blends in perfectly with just a few more strokes.

There are many people you’ve encountered in life who have communicated with you through sign language, and you noticed that they all have their own unique way of signing. Whether it was Seungkwan with his more expressive and sharp gestures, Wheein with her dainty and flowy style, or Joshua with his uncertain yet gentle movements, you liked they were all different.

Not being able to hear doesn't bother you anymore, not like it used to when you were younger. It used to build walls around you and separate you from the world. Yet now, you've learned to read sounds with your eyes, hear the voices that emit from a simple smile, a frown, an arch of the brow, because there are a lot more people who can hear than those who can’t.

But out of all those people, someone was the one to wave first across the street.

Joshua finds himself staring up at the intimidating brick façade of your apartment building. When you turn back to him, you offer him a tentative smile, and there's something different about it that makes his chest tighten.

Finally, you muster the courage, your fingers slowly dancing in the air.

“Thank you,” You sign to him.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, eyes softening. “How do I sign ‘goodnight?’”

You nearly hesitate for a second before bringing out both of your hands. You could feel Joshua watching you carefully at the way you bring your right hand up to your chin and then back down to meet the palm of your other hand, signing the word good. Then you flip your left hand so that it’s facing down, and your other hand brushes over it like the sun is setting over the horizon, signing the word night.

Joshua watches at the way your hands move gracefully. He follows your movements carefully, a faint smile spreading across his face as he tries to mimic your gestures.

“Good... night,” he repeats slowly, the miniscule dust particles whirling around his fingers as he traces the air. His eyes meet yours, and he could possibly see the flicker of proudness in them. It's a simple exchange, but at this moment right now, it feels significant.

As you unlock the door to your apartment, you turn to look back at him, and he shoots you another wave. Joshua stands there for a moment, watching your door close, before taking in a deep breath to relax the racing of his heart.

Three years ago, Joshua Hong moved away from his family in the hopes of pursuing a music career. It most certainly wasn't an easy decision, leaving behind the familiarity of his hometown and the warmth of his loved ones.

Almost three years later, he might have realised how damn stupid of a choice that might have been.

It's a bit lonely, to put it lightly.

The gigs are sparse, the pay is minimal, and the dreams he once held so tightly in his grasp seem to be slowly slipping away as the days pass.

The journey has been anything but smooth, filled with constant rejections, financial struggles, and moments of self-doubt; and lately these lows seem to be overpowering the highs more than ever. Yet, despite all this, he still chooses to cling to this passion as if it's the air he breathes, because it's something that he loves to do.

Music is the voice he uses when his own isn't enough. He's constantly surrounded by noise, whether it's from the strumming of his own guitar, the sounds of the bustling city, or conversations from strangers that he accidentally overhears when crossing the street.

But then there's the silence𑁋the kind that settles in the spaces between chords, in the moments when he puts the instrument down and the world seems to hum a little quieter. It's in these moments that the loneliness can be deafening.

And then there was you.

The melody playing in his mind for the past week is... hesitant, unsure, much like his own feelings. He isn't sure what it is yet𑁋this feeling that tugs at his chest and paints his cheeks with a faint blush. He only knows that it's connected to you, to the way your eyes narrow in focus when your fingers dance so graciously in the air, and the warmth that spread through him when you thanked him for walking you home the other night.

It was just a simple offer to walk you home, why is it playing on repeat in his mind?

A sigh leaves him as he runs a loose hand through his hair. He tosses away the dirty rag in his hand and stores the cafe's cleaning supplies back and under the counter. The colours of the sun setting outside filters through the large windows, casting orange and red hues on the wooden tables and floor of the empty café.

“You look like you need a drink,” Jeonghan's voice rings out teasingly, and Joshua could only scoff. “You still got that gig later this weekend, right?”

Joshua nips at his bottom lip, releasing a sigh. “I've been feeling a little under the weather, honestly, and I don't really have anything prepared.” I feel like I'm losing my touch.

Jeonghan arches a knowing brow. “Since when do you back down from a gig? Just go up there and pour your heart out. It's what you do best.”

“I'm just not feeling it right now, I guess,” Joshua replies with a half-hearted smile, shoulders only taking on a shrug. He pushes himself away from the counter, and just as Jeonghan is about to crawl under his skin, the bell above the door chimes. “Welcome in…”

He should really learn how to control his stomach from flipping when seeing you𑁋the familiar sight of your paint-smudged canvas tote, the comfort you seem to radiate𑁋but it's not just you alone. There's a girl who he doesn't recognise there too, with her arm linked with yours, and another boy he swears he's seen a few times... Seungkyung? Seungwan? Seungkwan?

Joshua lets his gaze drift to you, and there's a gloom to your face that he can't quite decipher, a certain apprehension that he notices when your eyes make the smallest of contact. He attempts to get your attention by bringing one of his hands up, and you catch sight of it.

“Same?” he signs, as if asking if you want to order the usual drink that you get.

You meet his eyes, and despite the lingering doubts that have been plaguing you, there's a sense of comfort in the familiarity of him. You nod, and that's all it takes for him to brighten up, his smile breaking through the clouds that seem to hang in the air. He watches as you exchange a few words in sign language with Wheein and Seungkwan, then Seungkwan comes over to the counter to place the order.

Maybe he's just seeing things, or maybe it's his mind overthinking for him𑁋there's an undeniable shadow around your eyes that he notices when he brings a tray full of fruit smoothies and iced teas to your table. He sets the drinks down carefully, unable to ignore the way your gaze seems to linger on him for a fraction of a second before flitting away again.

You don't seem to be entirely present in conversation, often drifting off before Wheein or Seungkwan would have to nudge you back into reality. Then a ghost of a smile would draw over your lips, attempting to engage in the conversation with your hands, but all the words seem to disintegrate into ashes.

Another tap at your wrist makes you blink, and you turn to see both Seungkwan and Wheein peering at you with worried expressions on their faces.

“Are you okay?” Wheein mouths quietly, signing lightly with her hands.

Seungkwan turns his head slightly, eyeing something behind him, a scowl to his expression before it curves into a slight smirk; his back was facing where Joshua stood behind the counter, taking in orders for another group of people.

“Café boy?” he mouths to you.

You follow Seungkwan's line of sight, and sure enough, Joshua is there behind the counter𑁋mop of dark hair falling in his eyes, a polite smile playing on his lips𑁋taking and preparing orders with casual ease. You feel a gentle tug in your chest, and for a moment, your gaze locks with his. There's a flicker of concern in his eyes as he watches you, before the corners of his mouth tugs upwards, and you quickly avert your gaze, fingers playing with the straw in your drink.

“He's cuter than I thought,” Seungkwan signs jokingly to you, lifting a teasing brow. “I'd have a crush on him too𑁋ow!”

He's met with Wheein's sharp elbow to his side, making him let out a squeaky wince that might have gained the attention of the entire café, and she scolds him with a shake of her head and a finger to her lips, but it manages to crack a small smile to your face. Seungkwan only grins in victory, tapping his wrist against his heart and giving a thumbs-up as if satisfied with the response he got out of you.

Ah, the benefits of sign language and being friends with two absolute idiots... No one really knows what the hell you're talking about.

“You do think he's cute though, right?” Wheein scrunches up her face cheekily, and you could only let a finger drift across the icy surface of your cup, the cold offering little comfort against the sudden warmth blooming in your cheeks to her words.

You roll your eyes, though your face seems to betray you even more.

“You're not denying it,” Seungkwan adds in, narrowing his eyes at you in a smirk. “Just say you have a crush on him.”

You form a mock-scissor gesture with your fingers, and the threat earns a burst of laughter to leave Seungkwan. The playful jab cuts through the tension, but the truth is, your heart aches a little at his words.

Crush? The word felt alien, yet somehow, it fits. The way your heart skips a beat whenever his gaze met yours, the way his smile warms you from the inside out, the way his clumsy attempts at sign language makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time𑁋these were all signs of something, weren't they?

The atmosphere at the table lightens a bit. It feels nice, spending time with your friends and momentarily pushing aside the doubts of your artistic soul and worries of everything else that have been flying in and out of your head.

Eventually, the rest of the afternoon wears on, and you somehow manage to survive through Seungkwan and Wheein's (mainly Seungkwan though, unsurprisingly) overbearing and teasing attempts to get you to spill your thoughts on café boy. They give up by the end of it, saying their goodbyes with a tight squeeze of a hug and urging you to keep your chin up. Seriously, you wouldn't know where you would be right now if it weren't for them.

At the back, when Joshua steps out of the restroom, a sudden slap at the wall next to his head startles him back.

“So I see.” Jeonghan circles a finger in front of his face. “You're feeling under the weather, aren't you?”

Joshua groans. “Don't you say it𑁋”

“Under the weather of love𑁋”

“You're having more customers than before because of me. Don't ruin that.”

“Then stop looking like a lovesick puppy and ask them out already, idiot.” Jeonghan shoves the boy forward with a not-so-gentle push to the back. “or at least invite them to your gig. Maybe you won't feel under the weather then.”

Joshua opens his mouth to retort. “Dude, I can't just𑁋”

But before he can finish his sentence, Jeonghan has already disappeared in the back, leaving Joshua standing there in a puddle of embarrassment. He glances towards the table where you were sitting earlier, seeing that you and your friends have already left, and panic shoots through him.

He's never been good at taking risks, but maybe, just maybe, it's time to change that.

Racing out the door, the cool evening air greets Joshua as he steps outside, quickly scanning the surroundings for a glimpse of your familiar figure. He spots you not too far away, heading down the sidewalk, before quickening his strides. He doesn't know what's driving him, but there's a sudden urgency to catch up with you𑁋to not let you slip away just this once.

And when he finally manages to catch up to you approaching the pedestrian light, he finds himself breathless in front of you, heart pounding in his chest and cheeks flushed, still wearing the café apron around his body. When he looks up to you, clearly startled by his sudden appearance, he feels the heat crawl up his neck.

“I, um…” he starts, voice coming out way more flat to his ears. Then you watch as he brings his hands up to sign. “Question?”

You feel your heart pick up its pace. He ran all the way out here to ask you a question?

“I have a performance…" His face lights up when he signs the right word. Cute. "...this weekend. I was wondering if you’d like to watch it?”

You swear you can see the city lights blinking in anticipation around you, your own eyes fluttering in surprise to his question. He's... inviting you to watch him perform? He knows you won't be able to fully understand him, to hear him, yet he's offering you anyway?

Part of you wants to immediately say yes. The thought of watching him sends a wave of thrills through you, a glimmer of excitement warming the chill wrapped around your heart since leaving the café. But the other part𑁋the cautious and guarded part that has learned to retreat behind walls of silence𑁋is reluctant.

Hesitation flickers across your features, and Joshua's hands fly in apology.

“You don't𑁋if you're uncomfortable or if you have plans, it's okay," Joshua reassures quickly, speaking almost too fast for you to catch everything tumbling off his lips. “I could give you my number and text the details if you decide to come. Just... think about it, okay?”

The streetlight casts a soft glow on Joshua's features as he waits for your response. You glance up to the pedestrian signal, noticing that time is ticking down before you would have to leave, before bringing your gaze back to him.

You swallow a lump down your throat, and give a nod. A faint grin breaks across his face. Joshua fumbles with his phone, pulling it out of his pocket and offering it to you. You swiftly type in your phone number, then hand the phone back to him, and then the pedestrian signal switches to green. It's your time to go. Each footstep you take feels heavier and heavier.

Joshua watches you go, but not before you both exchange your habitual waves to each other.

He can get used to that, he thinks.

The colours on your palette just look absolutely wrong.

It may just be the lighting playing tricks on your eyes and the exhaustion hanging on your eyelids, but it all looks slightly off-shade, the teeniest tiniest bit cooler or warmer. You frown, dipping your brush into the paint, attempting to mix them until they match the image you have in your mind. But it's like trying to catch sunlight with your bare hands𑁋the more you try, the more it slips away.

You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in your chair, and your gaze wanders to the canvas. The painting stares back at you tauntingly. It's like a stranger's work, not your own. A sense of defeat washes over you.

Groaning, you hop to your feet, untangling the apron around your waist and letting it fall to the ground before taking your paint brushes to the sink in your bathroom. You wash off the paint with a bit too much force, the bristles scraping against the porcelain, almost as if you were trying to scrub away your own frustration. The paint swirls down the drain, the colours blending together into an ugly, murky green before ultimately disappearing.

You chug down an entire glass of water from your kitchen, then shut off the light hanging above your canvas. Sprawling on top of your bed, you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that the walls could cave in and swallow you whole, if only for a moment.

When you reach behind to fish for your phone annoyedly, your eyes nearly bulge out of its skull.

You don’t even have to read out the entire message for you to jump up from your bed. Your eyes dart from the time displayed at the top of your phone, and to the words jumping at you from the screen.

[06:26PM | joshua hong] Hey it's Joshua! Sorry I know it's a bit last minute, but my performance is supposed to start in about 15 [06:29PM | joshua hong] But I totally understand if you aren't able to attend. It's no problem at all :)

And perhaps it's the adrenaline from reading the message knowing it’s from Joshua, because you’re suddenly standing up and racing to the bathroom. You don’t understand how you look more disheveled than before, and you can hardly do much to touch yourself up before you’re shrugging, grabbing a jacket, and leaving.

You nearly trip on the way out the door, and you could already feel the multitude of curses echoing through your head.

Gosh, you can hardly believe how much time has slipped away from you. The stress coming from painting and deadlines has been gnawing at you day by day. It’s been the only thing pulling you back from doing anything else. Yet with every stroke you bring to the canvas, it feels empty. You feel empty.

The streets of the city feel busier than usual, the air thick of your already deteriorating patience, and an unnerving anxiety gnaws at your insides.

You don't have to attend𑁋you know it's a choice you could make, but why does the thought of not seeing him perform make your heart clench? Why does the thought of simply not seeing him make your steps quicken even more?

The doors to the bus ahead slam shut the second you stride up to it, and your hand comes up to pound at the heavy metal surface in anger. With a huff, you step back from the edge of the street, ignoring the stares being shot towards you by passersby while watching as the bus pulls away, leaving you standing uselessly on the sidewalk.

A person almost bumps into you once you turn around. Every taxi that you attempt to grab is immediately taken. You blink back some heat in your eyes, arms wrapping around your body as if trying to mask away the sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. You brush past a sea of shoulders and weave through the bustling streets of the city. Seriously, why the hell is it so busy right now?

But even as you continue to float your way through the crowded streets, you could feel all the hope at getting to Joshua’s performance deflate. The day really wasn’t all on your side right now, and it all seems to rain down weights at your feet, slowing you down with every step you take.

Why does it matter? You ask yourself inwardly, skepticism knitting at your brows. Why does his performance matter so much?

A sharp nudge at your shoulder blade makes you wince. And when you bring your eyes back up, you suddenly realise you’re the only one left standing at the pedestrian light, watching as the sea of people ahead of you cross without any worry. The other side seems so close yet so far.

Your gaze flickers up at the seconds counting down, your thoughts thinking back to Joshua, and you suddenly find yourself darting across the street.

Joshua's brow twitches faintly when his calloused fingers strum at his guitar strings.

It’s a bit warmer this evening, the air feeling strangely muggier than usual. The note that leaves his guitar sounds slightly off-tune, but he doesn’t get himself to fix it. Instead, he hunches over to aimlessly grab at his guitar case right at his feet, snatching the coins he may have missed picking up before beginning to pack everything up.

Joshua glances around the beautifully lit-up busking area, eyes scanning over the dwindling crowd. It’s a relatively small, circular area making up the heart of a tiny social sphere surrounded by local markets and restaurants. Despite that, there’s an emptiness lingering around him, one that feels awfully familiar yet more noticeable than ever before. He gazes back down and pockets the coins with a practiced shrug, a movement that barely hides the disappointment nagging at him.

When a coin slips out of his grasp, he bends down to retrieve it. But as he’s about to come back up, a shadow seems to loom above him, and the outsole of a shoe nearly steps on his fingers.

Joshua picks his head back up, half-expecting for it to be a complete stranger and totally not half-hoping that it would be… you, hunched over and out of breath.

“Y/N?” he asks, swiftly putting the coin away. “You came.”

You only give an imperceptible, apologetic nod at his words. Joshua glances around for a moment, before looking down at his guitar, and back to you.

He scratches the back of his neck bashfully. “You just missed it.”

A thin line forms at your lips as you sign, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry.” Joshua waves dismissively with his hands in a slight panic. “You must have been busy, right?”

You smile faintly at that, nodding once more, before taking out your phone to type:

I wanted to come

Once Joshua reads it, you see the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. “You did?”

The curve at your lips lifts even more, but just barely. Joshua’s head falls down for a minute as he peers down at his feet, attempting to hide away a grin threatening at his own face, before looking back up at you and clearing basically nothing in his throat. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, a sweet, appreciative tone to his words. You can’t hear it but you can see it in the way his eyes seem to smile as wide as his lips. “I was… kind of hoping you would show up. Not… not in a weird way or anything! I just𑁋I think I would have felt a little more confident if you were here. A face that I know.”

Your face scrunches together in a bit of worry and a pinch of surprise, but Joshua just shakes his head and chuckles it off.

The two of you stand there for a few moments. It’s really your first time being right in the centre of the busking square. Fairy lights hang on the few trees that dot around the area. You could see some small and large groups of people huddling nearby, presumably watching other performers performing, but you and Joshua just stood adrift in your own little bubble, like two stars separate from their own galaxies.

The fairy lights cast a warm glow on Joshua's face, highlighting his hair that was floofed out in soft wisps around his forehead. You watch the way he runs his hand through it before taking a deep breath and returning to packing up his guitar. You casually wander close, looming over as you observe him in curiosity.

Once Joshua slings his guitar back over his shoulder, he turns back to you.

“Are you…” he starts to ask while signing. “...going back home now?”

You glance down at the time on your phone, pursing your lips together lousily. You should probably head home to start back on your painting, but that’s not what your thoughts are telling you to do, nor your heart. Or maybe your entire body, in fact.

“If you are,” Joshua’s hands catch your attention again, then you focus in on his lips. “can I walk you home again? Like last time? It’s the least I could do since you ran all the way here. I have to give some worth to your effort, right?”

You almost swear you could read the playfulness on his features, like the way his eyes crinkle subtly at the corners, or even in the way his head is tilted unnoticeably.

You can get used to that side of him, possibly.

You only abruptly turn around, leaving Joshua puzzled for a second, before he’s snatching the rest of his belongings and jogging to catch up to you. Then the two of you are walking side by side just as all the times before, the distance between you closing naturally.

The world you’re used to is already quiet, silent even, but it’s different now. Joshua’s presence is loud, not in sound, but in the way it seems to comfortably fill the space around you. You don’t really know how to describe it without sounding awfully obvious that… you like when he’s around you; or, you like when you’re around him.

His guitar case occasionally bumps your hip at his side, and his every attempt to create more space only seems to bring him back to the tiny amount of distance between you two anyway. Then Joshua switches carrying the case from one shoulder to the other, and as he does, his free hand briefly brushes against yours. The touch is fleeting, but enough to send a jump to your stomach. He quickly looks at you with a sheepish grin, muttering an apology that you can't hear but can easily read in his expression.

The night air is cooler now, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead and causing them to fall to the ground like feathers at your feet.

Joshua feels a light tap at his arm, and he turns to see you showing him a message on your phone.

Did your performance go well?

He smiles nimbly at that, but you can tell in the way his eyes seem to cast a shadow over his face that he's not entirely satisfied. He only nods slightly, a noncommittal gesture.

“It was alright,” he says while signing, fingers moving reluctantly. “The crowd was small, and I wasn’t at my best. But it’s okay.”

You frown a little, and the way he casts his head down to the ground makes your chest squeeze.

“Maybe it was good that you didn’t come,” Joshua mumbles under his breath, and you hardly catch what he was saying, but you could sense the diffidence emitting from him. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you either.”

Both of your footsteps slow down ever so slightly as you approach a familiar street corner, the dim glow of a lamppost shining down on the two of you. Joshua notices the pensive expression to your features as your fingers dance across your phone screen.

You hesitate for a moment before showing him.

You tried your best. That’s all that matters

Then you’re abrupt to take your phone away before Joshua could process your words, typing something else again before flipping your phone around for him to read.

You wouldn’t have disappointed me

Joshua stares at the simple message. A hearty sound seems to bubble out of his chest, then another, and another, before it turns into a brief fit of coughs and a mix of laughter altogether. You can’t help but giggle at his reaction. It's light and airy, like wind chimes dancing in the breeze, and it feels like breaking a sound barrier you didn't even know existed between the two of you.

When he returns his gaze to you, he grins again, beaming even, a sliver of teeth expressing relief and a newfound confidence.

“Thank you,” he tells you. “That means a lot to me.”

You nod your head coyly, and before Joshua can say anything else, you’re already turning around and beginning to walk. Yet just after the first few steps, a boom of thunder echoes in the distance, and a raindrop lands at the top of your head.

You stop and turn to see Joshua racing after you, and he stops right next to you.

“Rain,” he simply signs. “It’s raining.”

And then, the two of you don’t even have to say anything before you’re running through the incoming rain together. You try to run as fast as you can without looking back because you know that Joshua is behind you, the rain beginning to fall down heavier and heavier as you dart through the streets and into the area where your apartment is located.

Joshua stops right at the entrance, the same place where he had stopped last time. He watches as you continue to dash away from him, before coming to a halt, and turning around to notice him standing there under the pouring rain.

Raindrops plaster in your hair and clothes as you face Joshua standing at the entrance of your apartment building. His hair is damp and matted to his forehead, damp clothes clinging to his frame as the rain running in rivulets down his face. Despite the downpour, his eyes meet yours with an unwavering gaze.

“Are you alright?” he signs nearly frantically, and you squint your eyes to be able to see him more clearly.

While catching your breath, you motion for Joshua to come closer, shielding yourself under the small awning of your apartment building. He hesitates for a moment, glancing around as if assessing the situation, but then he’s jogging up to you, joining you under the small shelter of your building that could probably only fit two people.

Both of you stand there as you watch the rain pour down to the earth in front of you. Then you glance at Joshua, and then at your apartment, then back outside again. He can’t go home in this rain right now without a singular bit of protection.

A tug at Joshua’s sleeves makes him turn to face you, softening at the way you look so concerned yet… cute in your own little way.

Without any thinking, you gesture towards your apartment, as if silently offering him an invitation.

The surprise on Joshua's face is clear. His eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open slightly. He glances back at the downpouring rain, then back at you with uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod again, even opening the door for him and waiting for him to step inside. He hesitates again, but the apparent adamancy on your features brings some warmth to blossom through his chest. He fixes his guitar case on his shoulder and steps past you into the dry hallway, water from his hair and clothes dripping down to the ground.

Joshua follows you down the narrow hallway toward your apartment door, his shoes squeaking slightly on the tiled floor below, a slip of nervousness with every step he takes. The hallway is dimly lit, with a faint aroma of incense lingering in the air. You unlock the door and hold it open for him, gesturing for him to enter first. And as he steps past you, he’s immediately greeted with the warmth of your place.

You take off your own shoes right after him as he stands somewhat awkwardly in the middle of your apartment. It’s smaller than he imagined, but it’s enough for him to recognise glimpses of your personality scattered around. It’s cozy, minimalist, yet it’s home to you, and that’s all that matters to him.

You appear back in front of him with a towel in your hands, and you hold it out to Joshua, who takes it from your grasp gratefully. He starts to dry his hair and face, the towel absorbing the rainwater and providing some warmth against his skin. As he does so, he steals glances around your apartment, catching sight of an easel holding up a large canvas.

There are other paintings on your walls too. He smiles to himself as he steps closer towards the canvas, the painting appearing unfinished and a bit weathered with all of its strokes, but nevertheless eye-catching, filling him with wonder about what the finished product may look like.

You emerge from your bedroom and scan around the room, and when your eyes land on Joshua, you find him peering down at your unfinished painting, a thoughtful expression on his face as he cards through his hair with the towel. He turns to you, eyes widening at the sight of you in a set of new, dry clothes, then shifts his gaze to what you're holding.

It’s an oversized, grey hoodie, and it proudly displays the name of the museum that you frequent. You hold it out to Joshua with a shy look. He sets the towel aside and takes the hoodie from your hands. Immediately, you take a deep breath and face yourself away to let him change, and Joshua watches as you disappear into the small kitchen area, giving him a moment of privacy.

After propping his guitar case next to your easel, he strips off his wet shirt, replacing it with the dry, oversized hoodie. It’s warm and extremely comfortable, smelling like it’s been freshly washed with a scent hinting at lavender, and instantly offers the relief he needed after running through the rain earlier.

Then Joshua gazes around your apartment again. There’s a bookshelf lined with art books and tiny succulents, a small couch with a knitted blanket draped over its arm, and a table with a collection of paintbrushes, unused palettes, and an endless collection of bottles of paint. It’s a different sight than what he’s used to, that’s for certain𑁋he’s used to microphone chords being tangled together, the worn leather of his guitar case at his fingertips, and the hum of music drifting through his life.

The sound of your footsteps echoes softly from the kitchen, drawing Joshua's attention away from his thoughts. You're holding two mugs in your hands, steam curling up from the brims, and the scent of herbal tea wafts through the air. You carefully hand one to him, before settling on the couch, snugly tucking your legs underneath yourself. Joshua follows suit right after, sitting down right next to you while taking a steady sip from the warm tea. He feels the warmth seep into his fingers as he cradles the mug in his hands.

He glances at you, noticing how relaxed you seem all curled up on the couch, the soft light casting a gentle glow on your face.

Joshua leans down to set the mug back on the table, catching your attention.

“Thank you,” he mouths quietly, signing to you.

You offer a small nod in response, then take out your phone to type:

Is it still raining hard outside?

Joshua leans back on the couch to listen, narrowing his eyes intently. He still hears the rain outside, but it seems to have calmed down quite a bit. Yet the thought of him staying longer in your place makes his ears burn hotter than the steaming cup of tea in his hands.

He turns back at you and nods his head, knowing it’s a bit of a white lie but deciding that it’s worth staying just a little longer with you. He watches the way your face shifts into a contemplative look.

Your fingers dance along with your screen once more.

You can stay until it stops

“Are you sure?” Joshua questions incredulously. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

You shake your head firmly, the smile playing on your lips widening just a touch. It's clear in your eyes that you’re genuinely telling him it’s okay, and that assurance softens something in Joshua's chest. He glances down at his mug on the table, staring at the way the steam curls up into the air like delicate wisps.

It feels almost natural to do this𑁋to sit here under the excuse of sheltering away from the rain, but really, it's a bit more than that, more obvious than what you both assume. For some reason, it’s easier to be around each other than sitting alone in your separate worlds of sound and art.

When Joshua drinks the rest of his tea, he catches a glimpse of his guitar case standing right next to your easel, and a light flickers on his head.

“Since you missed my performance,” he starts to say, signing a bit flimsily and unconfidently. “I was wondering if I could… maybe sing for you?”

You cock your head to the side, curiosity piqued. “Sing?”

“Sing.” Joshua copies right after you. He remembers when you mentioned that even though you can’t hear, you can still feel the vibrations, read the chords and lyrics, and enjoy the music like others.

And while he feels nervous, the way his heart flutters at the thought of you listening to him sing makes him feel a bit… hopeful, confident, like he told you before. He likes to think that your presence alone is much more comforting and reassuring than a group of strangers gathered around him in the busking area.

Joshua takes a deep breath, before standing up and fetching his guitar gently from its case, resting the instrument on his knee. The rich scent of wood fills the air as he tunes it, deftly plucking each string with practiced fingers until it comes to the correct note. You could only watch in awe, glancing between the guitar and his focused expression. His brows knit together tightly and his eyes come to a close for a few moments𑁋you can’t seem to tear your own gaze off him.

When he finishes tuning, he opens his eyes, seemingly noticing how attentive you’re to his every move. A faint blush creeps up his neck, and he casts his eyes down for a moment before meeting yours again. He clears his throat awkwardly, adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder.

“Can I…” he begins to ask, holding out his hand towards you. You peer down at it, noticing how it hovers expectantly between you.

As your hand is about to brush against his, Joshua gently takes your hand with his own, his calloused fingertips meeting your soft ones briefly. He guides your hand on the body of his guitar. Your fingers rest lightly against the smooth wood, feeling the vibrations as he strums a few chords softly.

Your eyes widen as you look back up at him, surprised at how vivid the sensation is right at the ends of your fingers.

“You can read my lips too.” Then he pauses, before continuing, “if you want to, at least.”

With that, he plays a few chords, the vibrations running through the guitar and to your hand, even down your body. And when his lips start to move, you try to focus on his every word, watching the shape of his mouth as he sings.

For years, you’re used to reading sound with your eyes. Sure, you’ve touched instruments, like the piano in the music room during elementary school or the drumset you would see backstage before a school concert. But no one ever played them𑁋nobody ever played for you.

So when you read from your eyes, there’s always that second of disconnect when you blink, and the inner anxiety that you could miss even the tiniest detail of the music. However, everytime you blink now, you could feel Joshua singing and playing right at the ends of your fingertips, as if he was telling you that it’s okay to keep your eyes closed without worrying, simply because he was right there.

This is what passion looks like on someone else, and for some reason seeing all that unfold before you makes it all more beautiful.

You notice Joshua closes his eyes or peers down sometimes when he gets more focused, yet it doesn’t take anything away from his singing. The way his fingers effortlessly glide over the strings of his guitar, or the subtle lift to his lips when he’s singing𑁋you know that his heart is completely in it.

It’s beautiful. He’s… beautiful.

The song ends before you hardly notice. You keep your hand resting on the guitar, the vibrations still buzzing ever so slightly on your fingertips after Joshua strums the final set of chords.

Joshua shifts uncomfortably for a moment, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the guitar in his lap. He scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

“Did you... like it?” he asks tentatively while searching your face, signing the words as he speaks.

You merely blink up at him too, as if you’re still stuck processing everything and nothing all at once, before nodding reassuringly.

Joshua's expression softens with relief, his shoulders relaxing visibly as he lets out a quiet sigh. He glances down at your hand still resting on his guitar, a certain warmth spreading through his chest at the way you're looking at him.

“You felt it, didn't you?” he asks quietly. “The vibrations?”

You consider nodding again, but instead, you reach back for your phone to type.

It was beautiful. I haven’t felt music like that in a long time

Joshua can’t help but smile to himself, and there’s no point in trying to hide it anymore when he does. He likes knowing that he’s happy around you, likes feeling himself be happy around you. It’s a feeling that feels easy, natural, like he doesn't have to try too hard.

He gently places his guitar back in its case, the soft click of the latch echoing in the quiet room. You notice his fingers linger on the case for a moment, before he turns back to you.

“I think that I was right about what I said earlier,” he affirms, and there seems to be content hinting on his features. “about feeling more confident… when you’re around. I just wanted to thank you for that.”

Of course, he was nervous, anxious if anything𑁋but in between all that nerves was the comfort of someone who listened to him more intently than any audience ever could.

Joshua clears his throat and peers around after setting his case back down, trying to brush off the fact that you’re sitting way more closer to him than before. You’re typing something on your phone again, the bright screen emitting on your face and making you bat your eyelashes together.

You lightly tap on his shoulder to get his attention, showing your message:

You can always practice here, if you want

“Practice? Here? You want𑁋I can practice here?” The disbelief in his face makes you purse your lips together endearingly. “I hardly ever have the chance to practice because Jeonghan𑁋my roommate𑁋is sick of me being loud, at this point. I’ve been saving up to move out, but it’s been hard.”

When he realises how fast he spoke and the way you’re watching him closely, all he does is smile faintly.

“I’ll be sure to use the opportunity wisely,” he assures you, and there’s that lightheartedness back on his face again.

Your knee rubs against his when you stand up to put away the empty mugs back in the kitchen. It gives Joshua the chance to look around your place again, and his eyes settle on your unfinished painting on the other side of the room.

“Could you…” he starts to ask once you’re walking back to the couch, his fingers moving unsurely in the air. “Could you tell me about your paintings?”

At first, there’s a bit of hesitancy in your movements. But the genuinity you see in his gaze seems to tug at your heartstrings more than ever. You show him a message on your phone:

As long as you tell me about your songs

Joshua’s eyes light up at your message, a grin spreading across his face.

“It’s a deal,” he says.

You could probably count the individual dust specks floating in the sunbeams pouring inside the classroom.

Warm water trickles down your hands and into the sink below as you rinse off some paint brushes, before placing them in a discoloured, paint-covered bucket right beside you.

The museum has a variety of art classes, mostly for people who aspire to get their artwork shown in exhibitions. You aren’t any different from them𑁋you all seek the same goal, which is to be heard and recognised for your work; this small inkling to be known or even vaguely known by someone.

Once you finish cleaning up, you dry your hands on a rag and take a moment to look around the desolate classroom. The smell of paint and the sight of easels and canvases everywhere feels like home, but lately you’ve been questioning if it’s actually home, or just a temporary refuge. The question nags at you as you gather your belongings to put in your worn-out tote bag.

Stepping out of the classroom, you start to walk through the nearly empty museum, passing by hallways with art ranging from contemporary, to modern, to as far back as the classics. You’ve probably been through these halls a countless number of times𑁋retaining everything from the title of the piece to the artist’s name and technique𑁋and you would still be in utter awe.

However, just as you reach the main area of the museum, a figure peering up at a painting catches your eyes. The guitar case that hung on his shoulder stuck out like a sore thumb among every other person in the room, and the sight makes you chuckle to yourself because you recognise Joshua instantly.

You stand there for a moment, observing him from a distance as he studies the painting with a thoughtful expression. His fingers tap lightly against the strap of his guitar case, and you feel like if you focus even more, you could possibly see the thoughts wrapping around his head.

Joshua glances at his phone for a millisecond before turning around, abruptly stopping when he sees the sight of you standing not that far away from him. The corners of his lips lift into a gentle smile upon seeing you, or his face seems to almost brighten up entirely, you can hardly tell. He brushes a hand through his hair before offering you a small wave, which you reciprocate back with one of your own without any hesitation.

There’s a rush of warmth that flows through you as he approaches up to you.

You stare at him quizzically as you lift your hands up to sign, “What are you doing here?”

Joshua shoots a bashful look down at his own feet before picking himself back up.

“I wanted to see you,” he says quietly while signing, and his hand movements are as shy as his words.

His words hardly process for a few moments, and Joshua thinks he might have overstepped. The hopeful glint in his eyes dims subtly, replaced by a shy apology already forming in his hands at the shock to your features. Maybe wanting to see you was a bit too forward of him.

But it’s the way your hands nearly come in contact with his own to dismiss his worries that stops him mid-apology. You shake your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I…” You start, then pause, because Joshua’s focused, unwavering, yet patient gaze tugs at something inside of you. Gathering your thoughts, you continue signing slowly, “I thought about seeing you too.”

A surprised, somewhat choked laugh escapes Joshua's lips, a sound as light and unexpected as what you just said. Relief washes over him, clear as the day outside and the sunlight streaming through the museum windows. He seems to hold his breath for a moment before a grin splits his face apart.

“Really?” he signs back, and it’s cute seeing how expressive he is when he’s surprised.

“Yes,” You reply back firmly, hopefully being able to emphasize it enough with your fisted hand.

Joshua rubs at his nose nervously, and even the gesture being so small feels charming somehow. The weight of your art supplies feels lighter in your bag than they have in a while.

“I have some time before practice though,” he shares, pondering lightly. “Would you like to grab a bite to eat first?”

Your lips lift at the offer, and you scramble a hand in your bag to retrieve your phone. But your fingers fumble, encountering only paint brushes and sketchbooks. Panic starts to rise in your chest as you frantically dig deeper within your bag. Your phone. It's not there. It’s probably back in the classroom.

You shoot an innocent look at Joshua, catching sight of his worried, furrowed brows. You try to explain to him with your hands, but your movements are hurried and you could tell he didn’t entirely understand. So you settle with a helpless shrug and a motion towards a deeper part of the museum, and he seems to catch on.

Joshua feels the hesitation in his step when he sees you turn around and begin walking away. Considering for a second, he catches up to you quickly, the sounds of his shoes bouncing off the museum floors.

He follows right next to you quietly, taking in the museum’s atmosphere as you navigate through the familiar halls. When the two of you reach a room, you hold the door open for him, and Joshua swears he hasn’t really seen anything like this before.

The room is large and very open, the natural lighting from the outside flowing in from the windows. Unused easels and canvases stood at the corners of the room. There’s a long, wooden table perched in the middle of the room, and a whiteboard that takes up a small portion of the wall. Joshua takes the time to look around as you dash to the cleaning station where you were putting up the supplies, and there was your phone𑁋sitting idly with a few drops of water on its screen that you wipe away.

Joshua is standing with his arms crossed at the whiteboard, eyes squinting as if he was trying to discern the faded markings. You stand right next to him once you come up, bringing your gaze also to the whiteboard.

He turns to you, seemingly inquisitive. “Is this an art class?”

You manage a nod. But you feel like it isn’t enough of an answer and decide to pull out your phone instead.

It’s an art class for the deaf, and for those who want to show their work in the exhibitions here

Joshua’s mouth opens in awe as he reads the words on your screen. A flicker of understanding lights up his eyes as he processes the information.

“That's amazing,” he tells you while signing back, expression visibly softening. “I had no idea they had classes like this here. How long have you been coming?”

He watches as you look back down to type on your phone, taking the few seconds as a chance for his eyes to drift over your features, silently taking in the concentration etched on your face. When you finish typing, you show him the screen.

Just for the past year. There’s only a few of us in the class. Sometimes I’m the only person who shows up though

“Ah,” Joshua only hums contemplatively. He glances around once more, as if trying to see the room through your perspective. “That must feel lonely sometimes.”

You nod, letting out a low sigh as you type out your next message:

It can be. But it's also peaceful. Gives me time to think and create without any distractions

“I get it.” Joshua nods with a small smile. “You’re dedicated. I admire that.”

Your heart swells a little at his words. It's always a vulnerable thing𑁋sharing a piece of your world with someone else, but Joshua’s presence seems to make it all a little less daunting, a little more comfortable.

Joshua’s eyes settle on a corner where a few canvases lean against the wall, seemingly forgotten or awaiting their turn under someone’s hand. He steps closer to it, running his fingers lightly over the rough edges of one of the frames, then turns back to you.

“Do you have any of your work shown here in the museum?” he asks curiously.

A rush of emotions floods through you, a frown caressing your face—pride sprinkled with uncertainty, hope clouded by doubt. You've always dreamed of showcasing your work, to be recognised and understood through your art. However, you feel a twinge of self-consciousness creeping in, because the dream of one day having your work displayed alongside the masterpieces lining the museum walls feels both distant and impossibly close at the same time.

Sensing your shift in mood, Joshua raises his eyebrows in question. You fumble with your phone again, typing out a response and showing it to him.

I’m not sure if my work is good enough for that

Joshua's expression softens even further. “But you wouldn't keep creating it if you didn't believe in it, would you?”

Oh, he’s got you there, you think. A certain warmth starts to spread through you at his perceptiveness, a twitch at your lips from a suppressed smile trying to break free.

“And even if you don’t believe in it right now,” Joshua starts, placing himself right next to you gazing down at the empty canvases waiting to be touched. “I believe in you. I mean it.”

You exhale softly, a weight lifting off your shoulders as you absorb his words. For the first time in a while, you begin to see your art through a different lens—not just as smears on a canvas, but as a reminder that this is something you love.

It’s been a while since someone’s said that they believe in you, and it hits you right in the heart.

“Is the painting in your place the one you want to finish for the museum?”

You nod in response to that, though the sullen look to your face doesn’t seem to exactly agree.

There’s an exhibition being held just a few weeks from now, which is also the deadline for submitting your painting, which was being judged. The pressure has been getting to you, admittedly, and it feels like time is slipping away faster than you can paint. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll get back home later today and pick up your paint brush without it feeling like a burden to hold.

Joshua says something you don’t catch quick enough when you face back to him, and you tilt your head in question.

“I’m not sure if I did the sign right.” And then he brings his hands up, signing to you, “Good luck.”

Heat crawls up your neck to his words, and a smile fights its way through the lingering uncertainties and stretches shamelessly across your face.

His hand comes awfully close to yours when he brings them down to the side.

You draw yourself away when you feel your phone vibrate in your hand, only seeing that it was some useless notification. Joshua fixes himself up as well, turning to you fully, and you both exchange shy grins.

“Food?” He brings his hand up to his mouth, almost mimicking like he was putting a piece of food there.

You adjust the strap of your bag and double-check to make sure you have your phone with you, before nodding. The two of you head out of the classroom together.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re both basically dating.”

The way your face scrunches up in visible disgust to Seungkwan’s words has Wheein shoving the younger boy with a daggered stare, nearly making the stick of tanghulu fall from his grasp.

“You can’t just claim that,” Wheein retorts back.

“He walks Y/N home! He’s been inside their place! He wants to see them! Y/N doesn’t even let us come inside their place these days and yet here’s this guy waltzing his way into their heart!”

“I can’t tell if you’re insulting him or thanking him,” Wheein points out playfully, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“I'm not doing either,” Seungkwan protests, feigning a snarky look. “I'm just stating the facts. If it walks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it's probably a duck.”

At this point, your friends are speaking almost too fast for you to catch everything being said, but all you could do is bring your head down and gaze to your footsteps, a subtle, amused grin playing to your lips. They’re arguing about your life, and yet it makes you feel… acknowledged, seen, heard, because your world before seemed to revolve solely around you and your art only for the longest you can recall.

An adamant tap lands on your shoulder, and you bring your head back up to face Wheein.

“Isn’t the exhibition next week?” she asks, signing with a sense of urgency in her expression.

Your face falls a little, and the thought of the deadline and exhibition seems to loom over you like a dark storm cloud. It feels like yesterday you were just staring at a blank canvas, and now every inch of it is covered in a mess of colours that is undeniably far from what you can consider a masterpiece.

Wheein and Seungkwan could already tell by the weak nod that you give that you’re feeling the pressure of it all. The two of them exchange a knowing look with each other, and it isn’t long before you feel another tap at your shoulder. Wheein motions to something up ahead, and as you face forward in order to see what it was, a hand grabs at your sleeve and you find yourself being dragged forward by your two best friends.

You can hardly control where your feet are landing in front of you, and the only thing you could catch ahead is a crowd and the familiar sight of what appears to be the busking centre. There must be some kind of performance going on, and it peaks your interest.

The faces surrounding you are all bleeding out enjoyment, with their wide eyes and mouths blossomed into large grins. Their hands are all clapping in unison, some even mouthing the words to lyrics you can hardly make out.

You don’t recognise the small band that’s performing. But then you imagine Joshua being the one at the centre of the crowd, playing his heart out, captivating the audience just like how he captivated you, and the disappointment melts away.

You find yourself standing at almost the core of the crowd, with Wheein and Seungkwan clapping and cheering animatedly on either side of you. In an odd way, this position feels familiar, as if you’ve stood from this exact same angle before.

You're close enough to see the raw energy pouring off the musicians, the way their instruments become extensions of themselves𑁋the same as Joshua sitting across from you on the couch with his guitar in lap, eyes closed in concentration, and fingers dancing effortlessly along the strings. The memory of that night floods your mind, and you can almost feel the vibrations of his music under your fingertips once again.

It all brings a smile to your face.

As the music surrounds you, you can see the passion radiating from each band member’s face, carrying away the weight of the upcoming exhibition and the pressures you've been feeling. In this moment of respite, it's just you, your friends, and the music.

When you get back home to your apartment that night, you find yourself focusing on clicking through the photos on your camera roll, almost like you were searching for a particular one.

And then you find it𑁋the photo you took at the busking square all those weeks ago, the photo you took of that man singing and strumming along his guitar…

…the photo that you took of Joshua Hong, where you didn’t know his name at the time. And now, he’s standing in the middle of your thoughts, and singing directly to your heart.

It’s almost suffocating to be sitting in this chair right now. Your posture is stiff as a rock, legs shaking underneath your hands that were folded on your lap, other people𑁋other artists just like you𑁋surrounding you like flies.

You feel excruciatingly hot in your outfit, a formal one that you picked from the depths of your wardrobe that still somehow fits your body still. It’s been a while since you put this much effort into your appearance𑁋you can hardly remember the last time you dressed up like this, honestly𑁋and the unfamiliarity of it all prickles at your skin.

The day of the exhibition is more chaotic than you expected for it to be. It’s practically held to the public, where almost anyone can walk in and watch the event for themselves.

Across the vast room, you catch glimpses of other artists, seeing their diverse styles of clothing. There’s a woman with a shaved head and a tattoo snaking down her arm; at the far end, a man in a crisp suit, frown etched at his face, large glasses, with a neatly trimmed beard.

The walls are covered with various works of art, each piece representing the countless hours of dedication and passion of the artists. It’s a grand showcase, bigger than any small ones you’ve seen. The large hall that you’re standing in has been temporarily transformed into a visual showcase where curators and critics would walk around and judge the pieces. By the end of the night, only about half of the submissions would be considered to be permanently displayed in the museum. The thought makes your stomach churn with anxiety.

Joshua had sent you a simple Good luck! You’ll do amazing :) text before you arrived at the museum. It comforts you a little bit, but not entirely𑁋you feel like you’d feel better if he could be here with you in person. He couldn’t come because he had to look after the café. Wheein was also here somewhere too participating in the exhibition, clearly not anywhere near where you were placed in the vast hall.

The exhibition begins with a formal speech from the museum's director, who talks about the importance of art in society and how this exhibition aims to bring fresh perspectives to the world. As the speech concludes, curators and critics start moving around the large room, closely examining each piece and approaching all the other artists.

Your eyes follow a few as they approach your painting. They stand before it, whispering among themselves, their expressions indecipherable. You wish you could hear their thoughts, but instead, you focus on their body language𑁋the subtle nods, the thoughtful gazes. Some of them barely have their lips moving for you to be able to read them, while others are simply not speaking at all. At the corner of your eyes, you’re able to make out a few artists speaking with confidence to the curators, explaining their creative process and the message behind their pieces. Disappointment claws anxiously at your chest.

The sign language interpreter that is supposed to accompany you doesn’t show up until after a few crucial moments with curators have passed. By the time she arrives, introducing herself and quickly apologising for the long delay, you’re already feeling a sense of defeat settling in, struggling to muster the enthusiasm in your hands as you greet her back.

You have a hard time connecting with some of the visitors who stop by, heart sinking even more when they pass by your painting without pausing. Their attention is clearly drawn elsewhere𑁋that’s all you can think about as you watch them move on; their indifference is practically slicing through the air like a knife.

It’s like you’re invisible.

In the back of your mind, you figured this would happen. It wasn’t entirely your best work, or the best you’ve put your efforts in. For some reason painting didn’t come as naturally to you as it did before. If anything, it felt forced. The pressure to create something worthy had left you with a piece that felt uninspiring, meaningless.

You aren’t meant for this. This grand exhibition hall, the feeling of being judged𑁋it all felt like a journey’s away from the joy you used to find in simply creating. The other artists around you seem to belong in this environment more than you do. They stood proudly beside their work, and all you could do right now was let the lump in your throat tighten even more.

You aren’t meant for this.

By the time the big announcement comes, you catch a glimpse of the evening sky outside the large windows of the museum. A hush falls over the room as the museum director steps back forward. Even as you let your eyes drift between the director and your interpreter right next to you, you already knew deep within you that the night wasn’t ending in your favour.

“We congratulate all the artists whose works have been chosen,” the director says warmly, listing off names that resonate through the hall. Each name being called is met with applause and cheers.

Your name isn't called. You would know if it was if the expression on your interpreter’s face wasn’t so solemn, the meek curve at her lips that she wears doing hardly anything to ease you. Despite the sinking feeling, you send her a small, acknowledging nod, offering a tight-lipped smile of your own.

Wheein finds you when the evening starts winding down and the museum begins to clear away. She taps lightly at your shoulder as you’re packing your belongings, yet the eager look on her face is quick to fade once she sees the dejection painted all over yours.

“You’re not going to stay for a while?” Wheein asks, signing with concern, her brows furrowing as she watches you continue to pack your things. “I heard there’s an after dinner event later on, and they’re letting anyone join. Maybe you could meet some of the other artists!”

Letting out a quiet exhale, you shake your head, the movement small and defeated as you sign back, “Going to head home. Tired.”

“Are you sure?” Wheein insists. “I was planning to introduce you to some people𑁋”

“It’s okay,” You sign quickly, interjecting her words. But the pout and puppy-eyes that she gives makes you roll your eyes. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.”

A grin is swift to cross her face, and a few seconds later she’s wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. You return the hug back, feeling a bit of your disappointment melt away in the face of your genuine happiness.

“I'll text you later,” Wheein signs after pulling back. “Please get home safe, okay? I love you!”

The dramatic kisses she blows in your direction make you laugh despite yourself, and you nod, giving her a small wave as you head out of the museum.

The cool night air nips at your cheek when you step outside, and you feel way less constricted in your clothes than being inside the museum. As you walk briskly down the street, you let the night clear away your muddled thoughts. Your feet seem to guide you, almost on autopilot, not quite ready to head home and face the solitude that’s waiting for you.

You pass by a few late-night cafés, convenience stores, and small shops, their warm lights spilling out onto the pavement.

The sight reminds you of Joshua.

And for some reason, that’s all it takes for your feet to pick up its pace. There’s almost determination you can feel in each step that you take, the thoughts of the exhibition pressing farther and farther into the back of your mind. If there’s anything that could make you forget everything that has happened today, it’s just seeing him for a moment. A singular moment.

The lights of the café switch off when you’re coming up to it. You come to a halt in your tracks, and your gaze lands on a lone figure stepping outside with its back turned towards you.

After a minute or two, the figure turns slowly, and you recognise Joshua's face illuminated by the fading light of the café's sign. There's a moment of hesitation before he notices you standing there just a couple of steps away, and when he does, his features seem to light up even brighter than the flickering stars above. But it’s quick to melt away when he watches the way you’re trudging up to him.

His eyes flicker over your face for a moment. “What happened?”

You could see the worry in the way he signs to you, his eyes searching your tired ones. He peers at you so softly that it nearly makes your heart ache. But there’s a comfort there that you desperately find yourself wanting to cling to.

Without a word, you simply lean your body forward, letting your head fall onto Joshua’s shoulder. His presence emits a warmth that brings you back from the high of cloudy thoughts and back down to the surface of safety.

Joshua’s eyes widen imperceptibly for a second, before a quiet understanding washes over his face. His arms twitch at the weight of you leaning on him, and then almost hesitantly, he slowly wraps them around you, fingers brushing against the small of your back tentatively, delicately, as if unsure its welcome.

His warmth seeps through your clothes and settles comfortably within the hollow spaces of your chest. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, against your ribs, and smell the lingering scent of coffee on his shirt. A sigh escapes your lips, a soft exhale that contains the tension and worries accumulated throughout the day.

Joshua doesn’t press you. He can feel everything you feel in his embrace, everything you wish to let out. He can feel your dejection, your disappointment, knowing that your efforts, all the blood, sweat, and tears you put into your art had fallen short of your dreams. But he doesn’t pry or question. He simply holds you, and perhaps that’s all that matters right now𑁋he can’t let you fall apart. Not in his arms, anyway.

You don’t know how long the two of you stand there, right under the dim café light that casts down on your figures. When Joshua feels you shift in his hold, he loosens his grip ever so slightly, gaze caressing over your face for a few moments. His eyes hold a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

There’s a reluctance in your movements as you start to peel yourself away from him. Joshua slowly lets his arms unfold from around you, but his hands linger for a moment, as if hesitant to fully let you go just yet. His expression remains gentle, silently asking if you’re okay; if there’s anything more he can do.

“It didn’t go well, did it?” Joshua asks warily. “The exhibition?”

All you do is shake your head, and a small resigned sigh tumbles out of you.

Joshua purses his lips together, brows knitting together in worry. He knows the sting of rejection all too well and how deep it could cut.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, fingers moving with a grace through the air that matches the empathy in his eyes. He’s been getting more confident recently in his signing. “But it doesn’t mean your art isn’t worth anything. You tried your best, and maybe that’s what matters. Remember what I told you before?”

You tilt your head in question, waiting for him to continue.

Then, all Joshua does is smile faintly, before picking his hands up to sign. He starts by putting his hand in a fist and sticking his pinky finger upward. Then he points his index finger to his forehead, before bringing it down into his open hand. Next he fixes his right hand downward, forming the other one into a cup shape, and dips the fingers of his right hand into it.

And finally, he points to you.

“I believe in you.”

The words fly off his fingers and wrap around you like a blanket. The proud look that he captures on his face is washed away in a fit of timidity, and you can’t help but chuckle, a genuine, warm sound that fills the night air, even if you didn’t notice how loud it is. It's the first real laugh you've had all night. And when Joshua hears it, a blush creeps up his neck, reaching to his cheeks. A relieved smile spreads across his lips.

When you gaze back up at him, the weight of the day feels a little lighter. Slowly, you lift your hands up to sign, ensuring each movement is clear and deliberate.

“I missed you.”

Joshua’s expression softens even further. He watches your hands, then meets your eyes, understanding completely. He lifts his hands to respond, fingers moving tenderly through the air, and responding with his voice,

“I missed you too.”

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bluehwale · 2 years ago

Text

unconventional first encounters with ateez

part one // part two

pairing. ateez x reader (specifically fem! reader for seonghwa's & jongho's)

genre. fluff, humor, this is a headcanon with a teensy bit of thriller and fantasy (and maybe sci-fi)

warning(s). a creepy man stalking u (san's part), swearing, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of murder without actual murder, a crazy toxic ex (jongho's part), mingi had a one night stand, mentions of nudity without actual nudity, this is not proofread, seonghwa’s scenes are inspired by the kdrama “youth of may”

word count. 8.7k (sorry in advance)

note. i’ve created a monster… the 3k words headcanon suddenly snowballed into almost 9k oops i think i had too much fun writing this,, anyways please tell me ur favorites! mine would be seonghwa’s, wooyoung’s, and yunho’s bc it may or may not be inspired by a true story,,, (if u notice me reusing a trope in this hc,,,,, no u don’t)

masterlist

kim hongjoong

you're in a skateboard park

"why did you follow me here?"mingi slurps on his juicebox as he steps on the nose of his skateboard, "you don't even skate."

you turn to look at him and cheekily grin

"is it wrong to want to spend time with my bestfriend?"

mingi raises a brow

okay fine

he's right

you don't skate and you basically see mingi everyday at campus so you're actually kind of sick of him (don't tell him that)

so you're not really here for him

"just go do your thing," you make shooing gestures at the boy with pink hair as you turn to plop down on the side walk

"i'll sit here and watch."

:-D

sit and watch one of the most attractive guys you've ever seen skateboard

kim hongjoong

and there he is

laughing with his friends and doing little skateboard tricks that you can't name

everytime you look at him you hear sk8ter boi by avril lavigne playing as the background music

it's not a crush btw you just think he's super cool

you're falling in love with him

mingi blinks twice at you and proceeds to follow your line of sight

"oh c'mon."

"what??" you huff, trying to avoid his judgemental glare, "i just think he's cute, okay???"

"yeah but i thought whatever phase you had over him would be over by now."

well u thought wrong !!!!! >:-D

"instead of ogling over him, you should try skating."

mingi throws away his empty juicebox in a nearby trash can and drops his board before gently kicking it in your direction

the board hits your feet

"you're trying to kill me?" you deadpan before kicking the board back to his direction

"oh come on!" mingi flails his arms around as he whines "it'll be fun!!!!!"

"fun for you," you snort while trying to look over his gigantic ass that's currently blocking your view, "i'll probably end up with a broken arm."

mingi suddenly grabs onto your hands and pull you up

"nonsense! i'm right here-" he adjusts you on his skateboard and makes sure both your feet are planted firmly on it, "- i won't let anything happen to you :-D"

the thing is

you love your best friend

but you absolutely cannot trust him in situations like this

you were about to hop off his board and make a run for it

but mingi starts rolling you forward gently

"dUDE!" you yelp, immediately holding tight on his arms that are still gripping you as you both move around the park

"bro calm down, we're going at like 5 kilometers per hour"

and you both kinda go at it for awhile

and oh

oHHH!

wait a minute

this is actually pretty fun !!!!!! :-D

mingi laughs at your excited grin

"see! i told you it's fun!!!!"

okay yeah he's right about this one

"now you try on your own !!!!!"

sometimes mingi forgets that not everyone can do what he does

he releases his hold on you and gives you a push

your eyes widen

your best friend hollers when the board starts going faster

"MINGI I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP THIS THING"

"WAIT Y/N WATCH OUT! THERE'S A--"

you shriek as you hurdle to the ground and the skateboard kinda just tumbles behind you

"a pothole that hasn't been fixed," mingi winces before slowly walking over towards you

but someone beats him to it

"hey are you okay? that was a pretty rough fall"

you look up to see a boy with half of his short hair dyed blonde and the other half black, his wide eyes pooling with concern

cue sk8ter boi by avril lavigne

if he's here........ that means he must've seen you embarrassingly fall flat on your face and basically eat the ground

okay, your dramatic ass actually didn't even fall face first to the ground but,,

you somehow ended up with having your palms and knees on the ground

and the kim hongjoong is right in front of you

..........you had to resist the urge to curl up and die

"i-i'm fine-- ouch," you hiss as you move to push off the ground

exposing your now bloody knees and scratched up palms

apparently you're not fine

"oh no," hongjoong frowns, gently cradling one of your bleeding hands in both of his and you kinda have to muffle back your scream because oMG

he lets go of your hand and kinda digs around in his pants' pocket to pull out what looks like an antiseptic spray thing and a

and a box of pink disney princesses band aids

you didn't know skater boys can be this cute?????? HE'S SO CUTE???????

"i got just the right things to fix you up!" he exclaims and looks over at you for permission, "is it okay if i do it for you?"

you can only nod

meanwhile, mingi's just kinda standing awkwardly on the sidelines while watching the boy disinfect your wounds with the spray

and he sees that hongjoong immediately strikes you into a conversation in an attempt to distract you from the pain once he sees you flinching

and he's just inwardly going wooooo yeah !!!!!! go gET IT Y/N!!!!!!

hongjoong was starting to open the box of bandaids when he notices that you're staring a hole into his busy hands

"don't judge me for these, i just picked up the first ones i see," he says, thinking that you're probably staring at the bandaids because you're thinking of how weird it is for an emo-looking guy like him to have pink bandaids, "i think they're pretty cool anyways."

"yeah, they are cool," you scoot closer to him, "i was just hoping you have either tiana or rapunzel. they're my favorite princesses."

well

hongjoong thinks that's wildly endearing somehow

if he ends up not having two of the princesses in his remaining band-aid pack, he's definitely running to the nearest drugstore to get a new one

just for you :-D

he chuckles and digs around the box to hopefully see a bandaid with a princess dressed in green or another one dressed in purple

as he finishes placing the band-aids on your injuries, he stood up and offers a hand to pull you up

"i'm hongjoong."

yeah you know

you return his name with your own and he softly smiles when repeating your name under his breath

"y/n, try not to get hurt when i see you next time."

park seonghwa

"let's get married."

you almost spurt out the complimentary water you were drinking

what in the arrranged marriage bullshit????

you finally agreed to go on one of many blind dates your mother has arranged to hopefully marry you off in hopes of merging your family company with another powerful company

to which your personal chef, wooyoung, proposed a plan (that had yeosang, your personal assistant, immediately going on his knees to beg you not to do)

wooyoung calls it operation zombie bride

which roughly translates to 'make yourself an undesirable wife'

but you didn't even get the chance to get your acting game going because this park seonghwa of park enterprises is already asking for your hand in marriage

right after you took a seat across him and managed to take ONE sip of the glass of water prepared on your table

"have you lost your mind??" you sputter while trying to swallow down the bits of water you're currently choking on, "you don't even know me!"

seonghwa raises a brow and opens his mouth, ready to retort back to your challenging remark when a waitress come up to your table

"may i start you both with a drink?"

"yes please," you try to force your hiccups to a stop so you can deadpan at the admittedly handsome man in front of you, "i'll have a bottle of beer."

the waitress visibly tries to stifle her surprise because it's currently 11 am and it's unheard of for people like you in a fancy restaurant like this to order the alcoholic drink

but yeah it's none of her business so she just took both of your orders and leaves :-D

"i guess you like to drink."

it's no question that you both obviously know of each other

having both been raised in similar worlds to be the perfect heir to be handed the family company

but you'll show him just how much he doesn't know you

you can somehow hear wooyoung's evil cackles from here

"yes," you widen your eyes and hope that you look unhinged enough, "i can't live without it. whenever i feel sober, my hands tremble like crazy."

wooyoung would be so proud that you've perfectly recited the first part of the script he wrote

"i see." an intrigued brow raises at your direction as seonghwa calmly leans back into his chair with a-

HOLD ON WHY IS HE SMIRKING??????????

things are not supposed to go this way

he's supposed to be at least slightly irked by your behavior at this point

the amused smirk still plays on his lips and you were about to openly berate him for being a weird idiot before the waitress comes back with your drinks

at the sight of the bottle of beer and a tall glass set beside it on your table, you think of backing out

you absolutely HATE beer

but you don't want to marry a guy you just met!!!!!

so you sucked it up and gulped down the glass of beer after the waitress poured the alcohol in it to the brim

ggaAAH this shit tastes like piss

you slam the now empty glass on the table before letting out a loud aHHH~ as you smack your lips obnoxiously

and you feel the side of your lip twitch upwards when you see his surprised face

(ﾉ>ω<)ﾉ :｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ wooyoung's plan is wooooorking~!

"may i have a sip?"

record scratch. the earth stops rotating. pause.

"it's just, you make it look so delicious," seonghwa nods at the bottle before pushing down the cuffs of his grey suit and you swear you see his mirthful eyes twinkle when they meet your own gobsmacked ones

without waiting for an answer, he grabs the remaining beer in the bottle and lets the drink tip into his mouth as he knocks his head back to avoid touching his lips to the bottle

you kinda wish they did- AYYYOO?? U DID NOT THINK THAT NO U DIDN'T YOU DON'T FIND THIS MAN ATTRACTIVE AT ALL--

seonghwa lets out a rasped guttural sigh before he hums out, "now this is some nice beer." as he twirls the bottle in hands to look at its label before returning it back beside your glass

you do not find this man drinking alcohol attractive. you repeat, you do not find this man drinking alcohol attractive.

he sends another smirk your way

time to resort to the second half of the script

you rest your elbows on the table and lean closer to the man in front of you as your eyes narrow, "i've been told that i'm picky when it comes to who i date."

you wait for him to start spewing out random nonsense about some bullshit or the "nice guys always finish last" rant but he surprisingly stays silent and motions a hand for you to elaborate

"i don't want a man that expects me to cook or clean," you tilt your head back and give him a smirk of your own, "i'm not the type to stay home and cook for my husband. my career is more important."

he stays silent, and you can't help but feel a tad bit disappointed that maybe he's just like any other man-

"i like it."

ngl you almost went apeshit after hearing that

"my ideal type is an ambitious woman."

maybe your heart went pitter patter hearing that but no!!! you're not getting married!!!!

"i'll never want to have kids!" you grasp at straws, blindingly saying anything that will hopefully give him the ick because mhm yeah he definitely looks like a guy who want kids of his own yeah you got this

but he shrugs it off with a wave of his hand, "that's up to the woman, of course. i won't force you to do anything."

you're fucked.

"you're not as picky as i thought," seonghwa hums as another smirk, this time teasing, curls up on his face

you kinda want to smack it off

he matches your stance as he too, leans closer to you, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear

"i guess we're pretty compatible, future wife."

jeong yunho

tonight is THE night

your finals are finally over and honestly you don't know if you did a good job at it

but that's for future yn to think about

because present yn is gonna go party it up tonight!!!!

yuh B-)

a new club just opened nearby and it looks pretty cool so you and your friends decided to go there

you have on your cutest outfit with your hair and makeup done

and you're sO excited !! >:-D

"y/n."

"hm?" you turn to face wooyoung, one of your best friends, who currently has his arms crossed and a serious look on his face

cue your cheeky grin and your not so innocent batting eyes

before every outings that involves drinking, wooyoung always gives you the talk because... well,,

one time, none of your friends couldn't find you anywhere in the club because you ended up in a nearby seafood restaurant with your whole face inside one of the aquariums (you don't know how you ended up there and yes it was gross and yes wooyoung had to pay for all the damages)

but the thing is, even though wooyoung threatens reminds you every single time before you drink to not get too crazy, it happens anyway

you don't know why he even bother

(he's handcuffed himself to you once and the night ended with both of his hands cuffed together while you were nowhere to be found)

so yeah aha

"you know the drill," wooyoung deadpans, "it's extra crowded tonight so i want you to be within my sight at all times."

that should be easy

you give him a mock salute, "got it, dad!"

you do feel bad for your friends who have to take care of you whenever you're drunk so you're gonna limit yourself to only 3 shots tonight

yeah you can do that !!! :-D

.........

turns out,,, you can't limit your insatiable drinking habits

you lost count over how many glasses you've had and oh my god wooyoung's gonna be so pissed!!!!

you don't even know where he is

you're just lazing around in between the swarm of bodies on the dance floor

you've gotten to the point where the high to dance waded off and now you just want to sit down and relax

and that's exactly what you were gonna do

until you accidentally stumbled out of the club

"woah!"

everything seems to fall into slow motion

next thing you know, you're engulfed into a pair of arms, your face crashing against a warm pair of tiddies chest that cushions your landing after you drunkenly fling yourself out of the club's exit

a pair of large and warm hands cup around your waist to steady you

your dazed eyes look up to see a man with sleepy doe eyes that blinks in surprise and soft chocolate hair that's slightly tousled

he looks adorable (this is you speaking)

and hot (this is your drunken alter ego speaking)

and you're pretty sure you're gaping like a fish

mom i want him

you wrap your previously flailing arms around his waist, unconsciously pulling him closer as you happily croon

"yooou look like myh future boyfriend!"

the handsome man in your embrace lets out a deep chuckle as amusement crosses his face before concern pools in his eyes once he belatedly realizes the state that you're in

if you weren't so drunk right now, you'd probably swoon over how respectful his hand placements are; his hands lift to linger above your waist as he tries to keep you steady-- not touching you but also making sure he'd be able to catch you in case you topple off him

the bare minimum but it's still cute ok

"hi," he softly greets and you have to bend your neck all the way up because tHIS MAN IS TALL just so you can continue staring at his face in awe

"you're sooo tall !!oof-" you drunkenly stumble more into him as you loudly remark on his height, gaining attention to the both of you

he protectively pulls you in just a little bit closer to him, eyes taking in the amount of iffy strangers that have their eyes lingering on you for too long

"do you know where your friends are?" he softly hums, gently brushing away the sweaty strands of hair that stuck to your face so he can look at you properly

yunho knows he can't leave you alone, not with how your eyes are drooping and your speech slurring even though he desperately wants to catch up on more sleep after he did a little snack run to the convenience store

and it's currently 4 hours before he has to wake up for his morning class :-(

he knows he'll regret not getting enough sleep for his class but,,,

he'll regret it even more if he just leave you all alone

"they're all inside!" you giggle while your finger points to the entrance of the club

a bout of chilly wind suddenly breezes past you and you shiver because oH NO you left your purse and coat in the lockers!!!!!-

a warm jacket that smells of vanilla and steamed milk suddenly sits atop your shoulders

"are you cold?" the boy in front of you frowns as he adjusts his grey jacket over your body, "you should call your friends and ask them to come get you."

you didn't even notice when he gently pried your arms off him so he can shrug off the jacket he's wearing to give to you

hE'S SO-

the boy yelps when a shoe is suddenly hurled in his direction and nearly whacks him in the face, "what the fu-"

"hEY !!!!!!!"

you both turn at the sound of the high pitched shriek to see a tiny boy with red hair and smoke coming out of his ears while holding a purse and two coats with one of his socked feet missing a shoe

"gET YOUR HANDS OFF THEM!" wooyoung dashes at you both with an inhuman speed and launches himself to grab you by the wrist and tuck you behind him

"sorry man," the kind stranger lifts both of his arms into the air to show that he means no harm, "i was trying to help them find their way back to their friends."

wooyoung's like oh when he turns back to see you nod in confirmation and his hostility diminishes in an instant

"oh thanks man :-D i guess you're cool :-D what's your name :-D ?"

"it's yunho."

"well, i'm y/n!! and this is my best friend oomph- wooyoung!!!!!!"

and wooyoung's like c'mon y/n we have to get you back to the dorms and you're like waIT A MINUTE I HAVE TO RETURN THIS JACKET-

"no it's okay you can keep it," yunho assures you with a shy smile

"you look better in it anyway."

he's so- ahaue@$#@3ahgru

"take out your phone." you hiccup and yunho shoots you a confused look but obeys anyway

"listen carefully," you cutely hiccup again with your hands on your waist and yunho has to stifle a laugh at your endearing antics, "i'm gonna recite my number for you."

at that, yunho's eyes comically widen and he fumbles to quickly pull up the phone app

"i'm listening!!!"

kang yeosang

when you ordered for an android that will help you around your apartment, you did not expect this

"delivery for y/n?"

you excitedly peer at the tall box that was wheeled in by the delivery man after thanking him

only faltering once you notice something odd

the label on the box reads KYS-1117

hmmmmmmm

you're sure that you made an order for PSH-1024, an android that's promised to be a clean freak and will keep your housing as neat as possible

pshhhh there's no way a highly renowned tech company that sells expensive androids could make a simple mistake like that right? :-D

yeah ! :-D

so you grab your exacto knife and get to the best part of receiving packages -- unboxing !!!!!

you excitedly dive into ripping the box apart, mindlessly flinging away the handbook that was neatly attached to it because how hard can it be to activate an android?

a very handsome android, it turns out

you peer through the glass window of the white pod that houses a blonde boy laying so peacefully you almost didn't want to wake him up

you fumble around and managed to press a button that lifts the lid of the pod, emanating trendils of mist to reveal a clearer vision of the boy with golden blonde hair, eyes closed as if in a deep sleep

"woah," you murmur, bringing your head closer to take a better look at the android. you somehow expected a normal looking one instead of an android who looks like he just won a beauty peagant but hey,,, you're not complaining :3

you crawl across your living room, grabbing the handbook you set aside and immediately flip open to the first page

how to turn on your android: a guide

aha! here we go

you reach out to poke around the android's neck to press on the disguised button to power him up, ignoring the flame scorching your cheeks at the thinning distance between you and his face

his eyelashes flutter as his eyes slowly open and falls on you as you back away from his personal space

you just kinda stay on your knees (not in that way!!!) in front of his pod, because well..... you don't know what to say to him.....

he's slowly blinking, seemingly fighting sleep, as he trains his gaze on you

this is awkward........ (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

the silence stretches for another minute before the blonde beauty finally speaks

"There must be something wrong with my eyes."

"huh??" you panic, quickly turning back to the handbook in your hands and flipping the pages frantically. "what's wrong?? does it hurt??? maybe there's something about that in here--"

"... Because I can't take them off you."

:-D ....

you're ... gobsmacked

"uHHH ahhahahHHahHa, nice joke?????"

you really don't know what to say

he smiles, effectively blinding you because, holy shit, this man is too good looking to be an android cleaner wtf, and he gracefully steps out of his pod and crouches down in front of you to tuck your hair behind your ear WHAT IS HAPPENING

"What's your name, doll?"

d-d-doll ????

"uh,,,, it's y/n"

"It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm KYS-1117, you can call me Yeosang."

he flashes another charming smile and oop yeah that's all it takes

if you weren't kneeling on the floor, you'd probably pass out

but wait a minute,,,, did he say-

"huh,,,, they did get the order wrong," you mumble to yourself

you don't notice yeosang's face contorting in confusion

"Am I not to your liking?"

your eyes snap back to his warm brown eyes that flashes a hint of hurt before disappearing all too quick

oh no

you managed to hurt an android's feelings (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

"no no !!!! there's nothing wrong on your part !!" you vigorously shake both of your hands in front of you. "it's just,, i think they sent me.... uh, the wrong ..... android."

"Oh."

yeah...... oh

"Would you like me to contact our customer service? You'll be guaranteed to receive your correct order and compensation, of course."

yeosang lowers his head to face the floor while his voice falls flat; a stark contrast to the charismatic lilt he greeted with you previously

you don't need a degree in psychology to tell that he's visibly upset at the fact that you're gonna return him

it makes you feel worse because no !! this isn't your fault

and you can't ignore the fact that he looks absolutely human right now

okay, you do have to give props to the tech company who, despite messing up your order, did a good job at making their androids realistic

maybe a bit too good because,,, you're getting swayed by him rn

which is weird because aren't androids supposed to NOT have emotions?????

you sigh to yourself

"can you clean?"

the blonde snaps his head to look at you. "I'm sorry?"

woop here it goes

"i'm not returning you," you shrug. "i bet that's gonna take another 2 months to process and i don't see why i should do that when i have you."

you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to process what you just said

you give him a small smile that you hope is comforting and that it somehow tells him that he's not going back to (you presume) a lab that's probably a hellhole

he perks up at your words, his body rocking back and forth as he excitedly informs you, "I'm not specifically programmed to be a cleaner android, but I can learn! I'm known to be a fast learner!"

"okay,,,,, that's settled then!" you happily reply

this is great, a win-win solution! maybe you should also ask yeosang to get compensation for the mistake they made without returning him

in that way,, you won't have to wait for ages to get another android and you get money !!!!!!

phew

"if you don't mind me asking, what are you specifically programmed to do?"

"Oh! I'm a boyfriend android!"

what did he SAY (o_O) !

bonus

... "yeosang,, why do you talk like that?"

"Ah. Is the way I talk not to your liking?"

you shake your head frantically, "no!! no!!!! it's nothing like that! just that you kinda talk like you use proper capitalization and punctuation all the time aha"

yeosang blinks

"Am I not supposed to?"

"no!!! it's perfectly fine,, i was just hoping you could be more relaxed around me :-D"

relax. yeosang tilts his head at that word

"I am. Relaxed."

you stare at him

his ramrod straight back against your couch, feet planted perfectly side by side on your floor and his hands placed politely on his lap

meanwhile, your figure sprawls messily on the spot next to him

"yeah,,,, okay"

choi san

you felt it once you stepped foot outside the 24 hours supermarket

that feeling of someone watching you

you try to quench it down, thinking that it's just paranoia creeping on you because it's almost 3 am and eerily dark outside

but then you hear it

footsteps.

not too loud, as if the person does not want to be heard, and you realize that their footfalls match yours

they're keeping up with your pace

you feel your heart rapidly race as you curse yourself for leaving your phone because it's charging back home

is it a good idea to run?

you discreetly turn your head to the side, seeing a man way bigger than you with his hood up in your peripheral vision

and his dark gaze straight on you

shit

you attempt your best at nonchalantly flicking your head back forward, hoping that he doesn't realize that you know that he's following you

the streets and sidewalk both remain empty, rows of closed shops greeting you instead of any taxis or people that could help you

you're completely on your own

you inwardly sigh, making a detour to head towards the main street because there's no way in hell you're leading this creep straight back to where you live and if you can be in a busier street, that would be much better

after walking for what felt like hours, you notice the unmistaken colorful lights that shine red, orange, and green from a convenience store's banner

omg

!!! a convenience store !!!!!!

you quickly pick up your pace, not caring over how the man behind you also start to fasten their steps, and you immediately swing open the glass door once your fingers grasp at the handle

your eyes fall to the cashier, a teenager, probably, who looks like he's not older than 18, and at the brink of dozing off into a deep sleep

tears prick your eyes as you feel the panic finally start to overwhelm you because you don't think this kid can do anything besides being scared with you if you drag him into this

but you kinda have no choice

as you step further inside the convenience store, ready to approach him, you notice a mop of messy raven hair near the cold drinks aisle

you feel the presence of the creepy man looming behind you, ready to step into the convenience store as well

you gulp, shivers running down your spine at the thought of being in a close proximity with the stalker

hell no

the cashier's way too close to the entrance

you need to move somewhere further away

you make a beeline for the raven haired boy at the back of the store grabbing two small sized cartons of milk, tightly lacing your arms around his side, your groceries in a bag swishing wildly against him as he looks at you in surprise

"hi, babe!" you loudly greet the stranger, making sure the man who just rang the bell atop the convenience store door as he enters heard you

you shoot wide eyed glances that hopefully screams 'help!' at your temporary pretend boyfriend

who happens to be very handsome btw

"i'm sorry i took so long, you must've been waiting for me," you continue, eyes roaming around the store and quickly spotting the man in front of the aisle you're both in, quietly listening on to your conversation. "the grocery store was so far away! i shouldn't have insisted on going out alone."

the boy you're latching onto must've gotten the memo (at speed record too!) as he quickly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and he lets out a chuckle

"it's okay, baby. let me just pay for these, yeah? mingi and wooyoung are waiting for us in the car outside."

he purposefully raises his voice at the last sentence, making sure that the creep he noticed won't stop staring at you would understand that it'll be a 3 against 1 if he tries anything

gently tugging you by your waist to the other side of the store, away from the man's prying eyes, the boy takes you in with concern furrowing his brows

"are you okay?" he softly whispers, grasping the two cartons of milk in one hand as his other move from your waist to settle comfortingly on your shoulder to soothe you

"yeah," comes your shaky reply, eyes still glancing warily towards the front of the store. "just need to get him off me."

"do you want me to drive you home?" he asks, face quickly grimacing at his insensitivity and he scrambles to replace his offer. "ah, that probably sounds scary. do you want me to call you a cab instead?"

you thank the universe for gracing you with the kindness of this stranger

"sure, that sounds good."

you both finally arrive to the cashier after circling the store, waking up the cashier who begins to lazily ring up the boy's items

his arm wraps around your waist again once he notices the man lingering too close to the both of you and he quickly grabs his paid items after muttering a small 'thank you' before dashing out the door with you by his side

you look behind you, freezing when you see the man with his eyes still on you beyond the glass doors

"the passenger seat's empty, you can sit here first while waiting for your cab, if you want," the raven haired boy offers, opening the passenger seat door of the car parked right outside the store

you enter the car, letting the boy shut the door beside you as you settle down and try to calm your racing heart

"hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii !!!!!!-- uhmm, who are you?"

you turn to the backseat to see a redhead with a nosy expression, his limbs tangled with a blonde boy's own limbs who also sports the same expression, although his looks more confused than nosy

"some creep was following them on their way home," said the raven haired boy, already settling down on his own seat and shutting the door as you look over to the driver's side

"what?" an angry yell sounds from behind, the blonde seemingly trying to untangle himself from the redhead as he desperately tries to claw the car window. "that fucker!"

"mingi!" reprimands his friend in the driver's seat, his head shaking at his friend's antics and he looks at you with an apologetic look. "sorry about him, they both had a little too much to drink. i'm san, by the way"

"san," you repeat his name, and told him yours. "thank you for helping me back there."

"of course," san gives you a dimpled smile, pulling out a pack of mint chewing gum out of the plastic bag and offering it to you. "i heard chewing gum helps when you're nervous."

you must've been too focused on the man near you while he was paying that you didn't notice him grabbing it

and you know that you're not supposed to accept candy from a stranger but you kinda need it ok

"oh, thank you so much," you shyly thank him as you grab the pack. "you didn't have to."

"yeah, but i wanted to," he says, giving you another smile before grabbing the two cartons of milk and tossing them to his friends

"oUUUCH!!!!!! san you hit my head!!" the redhead wails, grabbing his head with both hands in dramaticized agony after the boxed milk bounces off his head while the blonde angrily yells that he does not want milk!!!!!!!

"a bunch of kids, both of you," san tiredly sighs and you almost giggle at his funny expression that resembles an exhausted dad dealing with his two rowdy toddlers

"drink the milk! you need to neutralize!"

"I DON'T WANT TO!!!!!!!"

"MINGI SHUT UP YOU'RE MAKING MY HEAD HURT EVEN MORE"

what a cute friend group

you ended up asking san to drive you home because somehow, you feel like you can trust him

(he drove you home safely with his two drunken friends singing 2000s hits all the way home and you both exchanged numbers)

song mingi

the biggest regret of your life is moving in to a shared apartment that was listed on craiglist

yeah.... you don't know what you were thinking

your roommate is literally a descendant from hell

and not in the cool sexy demon way

but in the 'i've made it my job to make your life a living hell' kinda way

besides the fact that:

a) she never cleans up after herself (whether it be dishes, laundry, or anything, really) and,

b) she acts like you're the bane of her existence,,,

it feels like she has a guy over every night

and honestly, you have no qualms about her getting dicked down because good for her

but the walls are PAPER THIN

you really wonder how she never got a noise complaint over how loud she is

and you have to applaud her for her stamina because they would go for hoouuurs and you'd end up watching the sun rise without getting a wink of sleep everytime

it's gotten to the point where your friends are concerned because you'd show up to class or hangouts with eyebags and a murderous look on your face

your sleep schedule is so messed up

you'd do all your assignments during the night with your headphones in, go to classes during the day, then pass out right after your classes end

all of your friends are kinda on edge around you because they're scared you're gonna Snap™ one day lmao

anyways, you were just chilling one night with your headphones in (which you immediately put on after hearing the unmistakable high pitched noises coming from your roommate's room), waiting for it to be 8 am so you can go to your morning class

when your laptop suddenly lost connection to your wifi

and you hate working on your google docs offline !!!! >:-(

so you forced yourself to get up and go to the living room to see what's going on with your wifi router

only to find a butt naked man hovering over it

eeEEK

"what the fuck!!!" you scream, grabbing the nearest thing to you (a throw pillow on the couch) and launching it on the stranger who's very much naked in your living room

"what--" the man cries out, looking back to see you with your eyes closed just as the pillow bounces off his head. "who the fuck are you??"

you wish you kept your eyes open just to let him see your eyeroll but you quickly scratch that thought because you really don't want to see a stranger's dick at 7 in the morning

your nostrils flare at the nerve of whoever this guy is at your apartment

"excuse me??? who the fuck are you?"

turns out, his name is mingi, and you came to know of it after he got appropriately dressed, turned on and off your wifi router, and sat down across you to enjoy his breakfast that you made

you also came to learn that he's the one who made your roommate sound like a literal pornstar last night

"so, uhh.." the blonde awkwardly starts, gripping his cutlery as he pathetically tries to strike up a conversation while you're busy wolfing down your breakfast. "you cook often?"

the simple question turns into a long conversation that you surprisingly find yourself enjoying

not only is he super cute,,,, but he's also so fun to tease

you move to clear away both of your plates and mingi looks up to you in awe, "that was the best breakfast i've ever had."

you smile, "sure, and that will be $53."

"huh?"

your raise a brow, "you think i'm giving you free breakfast?"

you laugh when you see him scramble to pull out his phone and ask you for your venmo

"dude, i was just kidding," you reassure him, "but please give me a heads up if you're coming over to fuck my roommate again. i couldn't get a wink of sleep last night."

mingi turns a bright shade of red

jung wooyoung

you can't believe it

never in your life would you think you'd be a witness to MURDER

you were just calmly walking back home after meeting up with your friends when you spot a guy with both of his arms pointed to the sky

you had a "little bit" of soju during your monthly bbq hangouts with your friends, so your tipsy self took some time to openly judge and even snort at the stupid looking stranger

that is until, a golden bow materialises into his hold

what in the hunger games lmao

.... you scratch your eyes, hoping to clear your vision

his right hand reaches into the air again, seemingly pulling out two golden arrows with their tips dipped in crimson out of nowhere

wtf did someone lace your soju

and then he nocks them, one above the other, and draws the string back

is he about to shoot someone??????

he releases the arrows in the direction of two people conversing with each other in a playground's swing set not too far away from you and-- holy sHIT HE'S SHOOTING TWO PEOPLE AT ONCE

you hear the wind rip as the arrows zips through the air before embedding deep into the unsuspecting targets' chests

it took point three seconds for you to realize what the suspicscious man did

and that's when you scream

very loudly

but wait a minute

......... there's nothing

there's no blood, no dead bodies dropping to the floor, and the arrows that struck their chests somehow vanished into thin air

in fact, the two people he shot looks happier now

that's weird

but you continue to scream anyway

the boy whips his head to see you; a little tipsy and screaming your head off, and when your eyes lock with one another, his eyes go impossibly wider

he swiftly dashes off into your direction after carelessly throwing his bow into the air and wait,,,, did the bow just dissappear??? it was right there--

a hand suddenly clamps over your mouth

"stop screaming."

.................

you proceed to scream even louder

the boy lets out an annoyed grunt, somehow dragging you into an alley with his hand still clamped over your mouth and the other gripping the back of your head tightly

"look i need you to calm down, okay?" he lets out a huff, nervous hands running through his red hair -- a detail you just noticed with the moonlight shining on him

you finally stop screaming and he immedieately sighs in relief, loosening his grip on you

you take a good look at him

he's beautiful

"thank you," the boy nonchalantly replies, too distracted with looking out the alley to make sure no one saw you struggling against a body of air into an alley. "just to be clear, i didn't kill them okay? they're perfectly fine"

but you're not even listening to him

"you can read my mind?!"

"yes i can but that's not the point," the redhead squints. "i need you to understand that i didn't kill them and that you're not supposed to be able to see me"

you swallow

this guy might be cute but,,,,, you definitely wouldn't risk it because he's weird weird

"umm okay, mr. i'm-not-a-murderer,, what else would you be doing with a bow and arrow besides killing someone??? running your cupid errands or something haha????"

he knocks his head to the side, taking quick steps to near you that has you pinned against the wall as his eyes rake over you in scrutiny

"who sent you?"

pffft LMAOOO ｡ﾟ(TヮT)

"what are you on???" you breathe, having to take in a large gulp of air after literally laughing your ass off because of how ridicilous he sounds

there's an offended tick to the boy's brow, his stare drilling at you

you wipe tears from your eyes, "you're saying you're the cupid? or eros? or uh,,, whatever his name is"

the boy rolls his eyes, placing his hands in the pockets of his pants as he moves to lean against the brick wall beside you. "yeah,, cupid or eros works. but i prefer wooyoung."

your jaw slackens. this guy can't be serious

"okay, wooyoung. how do i know you're not lying?"

the same golden bow you saw earlier materializes in front of you out of nowhere, its grip in a firm grasp within wooyoung's hand

huh,,,, seems pretty legit

mhm okay you're sold, you guess you can tick off meeting someone supernatural off your bucketlist!

wooyoung chuckles, he must've read your mind again, and he turns to look at you at his side, mouth still gaping in awe at his glowing bow

"glad you finally believe i'm real," he smugly grins, flinging his bow to the side where it magically vanishes in mid-air

"although, you're really not supposed to be able to see me. you're the first mortal to ever do so."

you see curiosity lighting up his eyes but you also see something else

relief

"you're the first mortal to ever do so."

he probably has uh godly friends up there but,, you can't imagine how lonely it must feel to walk on earth without anyone acknowledging you,,,, as if you don't exist

everyone should have someone around!!! D-:

"let's be friends!"

"what?" his eyes fall back to its usual indifferent gaze, this time, with a tinge of nervousness. "i don't even know your name, how are we supposed to be friends??"

"hush, i know you know my name from the beginning. you probably read it off my mind," (you're right), "now come on! you have to show me some more of your katniss everdeen side!!"

"katnip what??" he yelps in disbelief, figure remaining still despite the incessant tugs on his wrist by your attempt of pulling him out of the alley

"and i don't need friends!"

he was about to go off more about how people would think you're batshit crazy because they won't be able to see him and- oop his back is off the wall now, yeap he's moving out the alley with you successfully pulling him

"yes you do!" you turn to look at him and made a stop once you both are out of the alley, a grin makes it way on your face. "i can't believe it!!!! i'm cupid's first friend!!!"

a faint smile almost places itself on wooyoung's face because hey, being friends with you doesn't seem too bad

but he tramples it down with all his might, rolling his eyes and letting out a huff instead

"just follow me and keep your mouth shut."

guess he's stuck with you then

(he's a little bit happy about that. just a little.)

choi jongho

you knew you should've trusted your gut feeling on not going to the frat party

“but ynnnnnnnn,” one of your best friends, yuna, whines, “it’s been forever since you partied with us!!! just this one time please please !!!!!”

and you being the easily moved person you are reluctantly agreed after some more convincing

“don’t worry babe,” ryujin, another one of your best friends, reassures you while applying lip gloss in her vanity, “i’ll personally kick your ex’s ass if he tries anything on you.”

right, your ex

he’s the prime reason why you would not step foot in any more college parties because trust yourself when you say that he will be in every available party

but you know what

you’re kinda siCK of that !!!

so even though your ex is borderline crazy and threatens you to get back together even if you don’t want to

you’re gonna go to the party :-D

with your five besties protecting you

<333

“let’s go!!!” chaeryeong whoops with her head out the opened car window as yeji, the designated driver of the night, parks the car in front of the already blaring frat house

“now girls,” lia starts, “make sure your phones are always on okay?? and make sure at least one of us knows where you are—”

she’s interrupted by the door slamming open and oh yup there they go—

ryujin, chaeryeong, and yuna are already sprinting across the lawn to get to the house

you all exchange looks as lia lets out a sigh

it’s gonna be a long night

turns out, it’s gonna be an even longer night

specifically just for you

you were just in the kitchen trying to pour some vodka into your red solo cup when you lock eyes with him

your ex, stood in front of the opened fridge

woops what, vodka?? yeah i don’t need that because i’m getting outta here bye

“y/n, wait.”

you briskly walk to the living room slash dance floor with your eyes desperately trying to find your fiery friend who promised to kick the ass of the man currently following you as he tries to call after you

to no avail

you’re kIND of panicking now!!!!!

just then, a figurative lightbulb flickers above your head when your eyes land on a guy with dark brown hair with a cup of his own perched on a corner alone

you’re hoping this works

you practically sprint to him and he looks like his heart is about to pop off his chest at the sight of someone barrelling towards him at full speed

“i’m so sorry but i have a crazy ex who’s following me literally right now so can you please be my boyfriend for like 5 seconds?”

the words jumbled out of you in a haste— too quick for jongho to catch anything else besides ‘crazy ex’ and ‘be my boyfriend’ but he knows from your panicked eyes that you’re asking for help

and of course he will

jongho’s eyes scan around the living room, finally seeing the guy who he can tell is your ex by the determined steps he’s taking towards you along with his eyes set on you

ok yeah jongho agrees with you

because damn this guy does look like he’s crazy

he figures there’s nothing to lose

“yeah, sure.”

jongho expects you to probably just linger near him in hopes of your ex leaving or maybe he’d have to play the role of the protective “boyfriend” by landing a punch on your ex if he tries to pick on a fight

what he didn’t expect was your lips meeting his own

if jongho is an android, the wires in his head would've short circuit

your arms move to wrap at the back of his neck and you slightly tip toe so you can reach him better

he almost faltered on the kiss because he finds that so cute

only after you initiated the touch does he place his hands on your waist to pull you even closer as he surprisingly deepens the kiss into a sweet kiss

his soft lips slowly guide you into a slower tempo, smoothly taking charge by moving a hand to softly grasp your cheek while the other rubs comforting circles on your exposed waist

YOU’RE TRYING SO HARD NOT TO BLUSH

“what the fuck– get off my girl man!”

you’re forcefully separated from the boy with a breathless gasp as your ex pins him against the wall

despite your ex shouting obscenities at him with a hand wrapped on the collar of his shirt, the brunette doesn’t look scared at all

in fact, he kinda looks bored

his eyes lazily rake over your ex and he indignantly smirks before letting out a deep chuckle that silences the boy in front of him

“how pathetic.”

his big shoulders effortlessly knocks your ex to the side as he shoots a glare at him

this time, he’s the one standing in front of your ex with his intimidatingly large figure towering over him

“if you ever touch her or even fucking try to look at her, i’ll make sure to let everyone in this house know to beat the shit out of you whenever we see you.”

that’s when realization seeps into your ex and his body immediately froze

“oh shit, jongho, i-i’m sorry man,” your ex stammers, silently cursing himself for blindly messing with one of the frat members in their own party, “i didn’t know that she’s yours.”

“she’s not a thing you can own,” jongho rolls his eyes, roughly pushing your ex off the wall and harshly slapping his hand on his back to force him towards the door’s direction, “now get out of here.”

as your ex scrambles out the door, you turn to face jongho with your head slightly muddled by the fact that

a) you kissed a frat boy

b) he’s hot

c) oh and have you mentioned that he’s hot?

“you good?”

you scramble out of your thoughts to see him looking over you carefully, “yeah…. thank you for that.”

a gummy smile lights up his face and you’re kinda confused because this guy does not resemble the intimidation he showed earlier at all, “no problem.”

ok go off duality king

“wanna get out of here?”

this is the first time you met a frat boy who’s not really interested in the party he’s in

but you like that :-D

you smile, “sounds good.”

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez headcanons #ateez ff #ateez humor #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader

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